


Elfangor's Folly

by KimHoppy



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 498,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimHoppy/pseuds/KimHoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the crash landing, Elfangor finds himself on Earth, alone, the only ones knowing of his presence being the five children who saw him crash. Confronted with the choice to fight or to hide, he chooses to continue the battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Elfangor lands and makes a choice.

All it takes is one moment, one small distraction, and you can be lost in a battle.  I’ve said it to all of my _arisths_ that train under me.  The first rule: always keep your main eyes on _your_ opponent; use your stalks to monitor others, your surroundings.  And I had broken it.  No, worse, my distraction had led to me to take _all_ of my eyes off my opponents, to be so thoroughly _distracted_.  In my defense, it had most decidedly _not_ been small – _the Dome, Aximili! No!_ – but that is almost no excuse.  In that split moment – a moment that spanned an eternity as I saw the beams target the Dome’s stabilizers, watched them be destroyed – my ship had been hit, badly.

Badly for me, I mean, as the Controller would think his hit had been very good, I thought dimly as I was thrown away from the console at the explosion.  The ship spun wildly for a moment and I crashed to the floor in a jumble of limbs and pain and blood.  For a moment I could only lie dazed, dwelling on the language semantics before realizing I was distracting myself even more when I could ill-afford to be!

I staggered to my hooves and made my way to the controls, looked out the view screen to seen my enemies targeting me, and even without my experience I could tell it was situation that was quickly becoming mortal.  The controls – still sparking, melted, useless – were slow or inoperative.  Maneuverability was down significantly, altitude and attitude confused. I realized the ship had been too badly damaged for me to keep in this fight.  (I also had been too badly damaged, seeing the gaping wound created in my side, felt the dripping blood and pain.)

Looking around I could see our numbers dwindling, the Yeerks growing, the Dome ship looming, our ship faltering.  It was lost.  … Earth was lost.

‹NO!› I thought sharply.  No! I would not let Earth fall. 

I thought desperately, quickly.  I had to save this world, its people.  I had to … the _Time Matrix_!

I flew the damaged flyer, dispatching what Yeerks I could, looked down on the familiar world, looked for the familiar outline of the continent.  There.  Down, down, descent.

I could save Earth.  Aximili.  The Ship.  Even myself, but most importantly, the first three.  Yes.  I just had to get to it!  There was time – and then there would be more than enough time.

Speeding through the atmosphere, I neared the location.  Neared it, made it.  Could see the lights that made up the human world – headlights, skyscrapers, signs, so many.  I zoomed in on the coordinates.  Saw the location.

No, no, it was wrong.  It was suppose to be forest, not these skeleton buildings.  No, no …

And then, through the fog of my pain and desperation and hope, then I realized the truth, the irony.  Though I was going to get unlimited time, there was _no time_ to get it!  I buried it too deeply.  And I could not seek it, could not let the Yeerks find me in the middle of getting it, could not let them be aware that there was something.  Not with Yeerks here, not with a Blade ship in orbit, not with a Visser.

No, I couldn’t let the Yeerks get such power.

It was too late to turn back, though.  Sensors showed the Yeerks were winning the battle, the number of Andalite fighters dwindling down to just me.  They would be here soon.  I could not hope to make a safe escape from so low in the atmosphere, could not hope to even escape to make a good fight to stop the Yeerks.  I was crippled, both in body and in ship.

Though it turned my blade to flee, there was no true choice.  If I could not escape via the air, I would seek the ground. 

I would land.

It wasn’t one of my better landings.  However, on the bright side, it wasn’t a crash.  At the moment, it was the only glimmer of light in this utterly dismal black hole.  The ship, Aximili –

‹No!  Focus, Elfangor.  Now is not the time!› I scolded myself, staggering over to the medical kits.  With shaky hands I emptied the epinephrine hypo and then the pain relief one, neither probably in the medically approved area.  Hopefully they would be enough to let me get to safety.  The Yeerks were certain to follow my ship and would be here at any moment.  No time to morph to heal and demorph to escape.  Only time to run.

The hypos were already affecting me, making me jittery and numb.  I grabbed a bag and threw in anything I could think.  The Shredder, not that it were going to last long, I noted grimly.   Some officer had neglected to recharge it.  Still, I packed the weapon.  A small computer pad.  The rest of the medical kit.  The _Escafil_ device, knocked from its compartment and resting on the panel.  Whomever thought it would be a wonderful idea to give me the responsibility to give the ability to the _aristh_ s at the academy better hope to never meet my tail. There had been nothing worse than facing those … those children, hopeful and proud and utterly scared and knowing that more than half of them were going to die.  I am glad I had not been the one to have given it to Aximili …. 

No, do not think of Aximili now.  Not now.

No one knew I still had the device, as I was supposed to have left it in my quarters on the homeworld.  I’d had to rush to make the departing ship and hadn’t paid attention to what I packed. I didn’t learn of my mistake until we had already left.  Slightly panicked, I hid it in the fighter and waited for the subtle message that never arrived.  Either they hadn’t noticed – unlikely, because how many _Escafil_ devices did they have? – or they hadn’t wished to offend me by suggesting I had stolen it – not that I had stolen it.  It had been an accident. 

I cast my eyes around.  Anything else?  No.

‹Computer.  Self-destruct.  Fifteen minutes.›  That should give me enough time to get away, and enough for Yeerks to find it and hopefully join its fate.

I limped over to the door and pressed my hand to the panel, and then started to descend.  However, I had to pull up short at the beings approaching me, though I couldn’t make out their details.  My tail was already at the ready.

Slowly, though, my eyes accustomed and I saw them.  Humans.  Children, hardly older than Loren had been those long years ago. They were skittish, scared, and awed.  Not Controllers.

‹Do not be frightened,› I said softly.  I let my tone be calm, soothing, let them realize I meant no harm.  And they relaxed and smiled, and I smiled back slightly.

We might have stood as such had I not recalled my ship was going to explode in thirteen minutes.

‹We must leave here.  Immediately.  My ship is to self-destruct.›  I limped down the ramp and they must have seen my injury.  I myself had been avoiding looking at it.

“You’re injured!” a female gasped.

‹Yes.  I may die.›  There was no reason to lie.  ‹Please, leave.  Return home.  Speak of this to no one.›

“No, we can help you,” another girl said.

“Hello, did you not hear him say his ship is going to explode!  Let’s get out of here!” a male said.

“Marco’s right.  We have to go.”

“We can’t just leave him.   He needs help!”

I had a feeling these human children were going to be troublesome. Troublesome beings always talk about you as if you’re not present.   ‹I shall be fine!  Leave now or you will all be in danger.  The Yeerks will be here soon!›

“Who are the Yeerks?” a boy asked.  I gasped at his face.  I would remember it anywhere, even having never seen it before.  It was so obviously Loren.

‹They are here to destroy you,› I said lowly.  ‹Now, go, run, and if you value your lives, you will tell no one of our meeting.  They can be anyone.  Your parents, your friends.  Trust no one.  GO!›

They were surprised at my order and some were already obeying, running a few steps.

But Loren’s son stopped.  “Who are you?  Will we see you again?”

“You have to tell us about the Yeerks!” the first female said.  “Someone has to know!”

I stared at them.  ‹My name is Prince Elfangor.  And, if I live, I will be honored to meet you again.  Now, please, we must leave.›  I rushed away.

“But you don’t even know who we are!  How will we find you?” Loren’s son – my son – demanded. 

My eyes saw the streaks in the sky.  ‹They come!  Run!  Go home, now!›

And I ran, dashing through the area that was once forest, my hooves hitting dirt that buried the secret _Time Matrix_.

I had come full circle.

 ****

The city had changed.  Of course it had.  I had been away eighteen years.  Still, I had always imaged it to be unchanging.  Not exactly stagnant, with all the negative connotations, but in the distant preserved form I kept in my memory.

I had escaped, ducking into the alleys and scaring the homeless, running as fast as I could until I met the forest.  By then my body was weakening, my side oozing blood and pain.  I collapsed and forced myself to morph, as weak as I was.  The kafit bird, so I could fly and see what was happening.  However, if I was going to be stranded on Earth – again – I was going to require more natural morphs. 

I hid my bag into the bushes and under debris before I started, and then I morphed, growing even more tired until I was the many-winged bird.  It had been years since I morphed it and I took to the sky. 

In the air, I dimly saw the Controllers centering near the area where my ship had landed.  It had already exploded.  There were police, and, I saw, Hork-Bajir and Taxxons.  I made note of the faces, not that I would remember or see them easily again.  Humans are like ants, many, and they all look alike to me, again.  I was going to have to become in the practice of telling them apart. 

The kafit bird is not for night, so I returned, praying the children heeded my words, were safe.  Back in the forest I returned to my true form and gathered my bag, heading deep into the forest.  I had to hide, to think about what would happen.

But first, I had to mourn.  Mourn the lost of the ship, its warriors, my little brother.

Aximili.  I cursed myself.  I had ordered him to the Dome for his safety, and it led to his death!  He had been helpless and they shot the Dome down, crashing it to Earth.

It had been then when I had been hit, wounded, distracted with the death of my little brother.  My responsibility to keep safe.  My _aristh_. 

What would Mother say?  And Father?  How could I face them again, after such failure? 

Wearily I walked until I could walk no more, and I solemnly did the rituals of death for my lost ones. 

Afterwards, instead of sleeping, I thought of what I must do.  I was on Earth, quite likely alone.  Earth was already under Yeerk infiltration, and a Blade ship was in orbit.  A Visser was stationed on this world. 

There were no fighters.  I was in unfamiliar battle situations.  I was a fighter pilot, not a ground troop, not guerilla force. 

I had no weapons, no one to assist me.

I had two options : I could fight or I could hide. 

But I would not hide.  Not again.  I would not let them take Earth.  I would not let them harm my son.  My wife.

Loren.  I would find my Loren, see how she fared in her life without me.  She had to be in the city still, if our son was.  I could see how they lived.  They would be together, my family that never knew me, that I was never part of.

I smiled.  Why else had I been so eager to accept this mission, to volunteer?  Oh, yes, to defeat the Yeerks and all that propaganda, but to see Earth again, to see my long-lost, never forgotten family.  My hidden pride. 

Yes.  I would fight.  I may not be as effective as I had been in a fighter, but I would live up to my epithet the Yeerks called me.  I would be their _Beast_.

And, as I recalled, Earth had quite a few beasts for me to become.

I looked around, foolishly, because I was alone, and closed my eyes.  Morphed again, to the form I never allowed myself to morph in all these years.  For all I knew, the Ellimist could have removed it from my arsenal, but no, no, I knew he hadn’t.  I could feel it in me, buried deep, my hidden self.  And, in a second, I felt the changes.

My spine shortening, my stalks disappearing, front legs dwindling.  Becoming stockier, stronger, weaker.  I fell forward and caught myself with my hands, the sticks and dirt stinging my skin.  The chill in the air suddenly hit my bare skin, and hair fell in front of my eyes.  My mouth opened.

Naked, I sat on the ground and stared at my human hands, strong, five-fingered.  Felt my arms, my feet and legs.  My hair tangles and the planes of my face. 

I laughed, quietly.  “Hello, Alan Fangor.  Welcome back.”

 ****


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children involve themselves more than Elfangor would like, he does research, and makes another choice that will have repercussions for everyone.

I stole clothing.  It fit poorly, and I only wore it long enough to wire an ATM – after disabling the camera – to give me five hundred dollars so I could buy proper clothes and shoes.  I gathered more money from various ATMs and other sources, started to get my necessary human paper work.  Social security number.  Birth certificate.  Drivers’ license.  I opened a bank account and started depositing money in it, got a credit card, sent all the paperwork to a PO Box. 

It all came back to me, being human.  Of course, I had forgotten how difficult it was to walk only on two legs, how over-powering taste was.  There had already been a minor incident with that.  Starbucks should be prohibited.  Thankfully, they had merely thought me a caffeine addict.

It was a busy week later that I finally tried to find the children that had seen me land.  I was worried, concerned that they had been taken.

It was easy to find them.  They were young children, and it was late September.  They had to go to school.  Flying with my seagull morph – obtained by stunning the donor one night at the beach – I found them easily, learned their names.  Jake.  Marco.  Rachel.  Cassie.  Tobias.  My son.

I followed each home, and I will not lie, I was shocked to learn that my son did not live with my Loren, but with I man I did not know.  An uncle of neither my (obviously) nor Loren’s relation.  A slovenly man, a drunk.

Where was my Loren?  Why was she not with our son, raising him?  Had she died?

Panicked, I hacked into his records, searched out my wife.  I did not get far, as I was using public venues and they do not let those be easily assessable.  But my hearts had stopped.  Had she been dead these many years?  I had always imagined her alive, well, living as we had been.  Happy.  With our son. True, sometimes in my despair I would recall that she was with another mate, someone who was not me, but she – they had always been happy, idyllic, innocent. My illusion was shattering, because, however my son had lived, it had not been happily.

One day, after school they went to Cassie’s home.  She lived in the country, at an animal rescue center.  I had made note of it and had already acquired several of the animals her family had been treating.  They were speaking and I deemed it safe to let them know I was all right.  I had, after all, promised – though not it so many words, not even in words, more like implied – that I was going to meet them again.

They were below me.  ‹Hello, children.›

They were all surprised and gave yells, looked wildly around. 

“Did everyone else hear that?” Marco demanded.

Jake nodded.  “Oh, yeah.”

“It’s him!” my son said excitably.

“Where are you?” Rachel demanded.

“Are you all right?” Cassie asked.

‹I am fine.  I am above you.  Are all of you all right?›

“Where are you?  Are you invisible?” Rachel demanded.

I sighed in both amusement and exasperation.  ‹If I had the ability to become invisible, I would have done so when I left my ship, Rachel.›

“It knows your name!” Macro exclaimed.

My feathers ruffled at the unintended insult.  ‹I am a him, Marco.›  He squeaked.  ‹Not an it, and I know all of your names.  I have been watching you.›

“You’re the bird, the seagull, aren’t you?” Cassie asked quietly.

I was impressed that she had managed to determine the general direction of my thought-speak, a difficult talent for one unexposed.  ‹Yes.  Unless my true form frightens you, I shall demorph.›  Obviously, they did not understand how I meant demorph.  As I was the first alien they had knowingly met, they may think it a natural ability.  Of course, none of this truly mattered, and I flew down.  The children moved away, skittish, and I started to demorph.

Morphing is not an exact science, and it is not pleasant to watch.  Dimly I could see their faces of horror and sickness, but on all there was some glimmer of awe.

Finally I stood as my true self in front of them, the children huddled close together.  They weren’t terrified, but they were scared.  I have very little experience in meeting new aliens – friendly ones, at any rate, because I constantly meet new Yeerks – so I, after a moment, lowered my tail so it would be less threatening – not true, because from this position it was just as dangerous, but they were humans and did not know that – and said, ‹Hello again, children.›

They dimly chorused hello back.  And then my son said, “You’re not hurt anymore.”

‹No.  The morphing healed my wounds.  I am well now.  Thank you for your concern.›

“We were worried,” Cassie said.  “I mean, it looked really bad, and we saw those other ships land and those things –”

‹They did not see you, did they?› I demanded.

“They didn’t see me,” Marco said.

“Because you ran like the little chicken you are,” Rachel said.

“No, they didn’t see us, Prince Elfangor.  At least, we don’t think so,” Jake said slowly.  “I know someone chased me, but I lost them.  I think someone chased me anyway.”

I was not exactly pleased to hear such things, but it was no more than I could have expected.

“All right, who exactly are you and what Yeerks?” Rachel asked.  “And how did you find us?”

Amused at her attempt to take charge, to not appear frightened, I said, ‹I did read the reports about Earth customs.›  Okay, I lied.  I did start to read them, curious to what our intelligence had to say about Earth, but they were so boring and incorrect that I gave up.  ‹You are adolescent humans, which implies that you should be in school.  I only had to monitor the schools in the area to see which you attended.  Finding one of you would greatly favor that the others attended the same institution, and I merely observed you to learn your names and your homes.  And which lessons you slept through.›

“All of them, if you didn’t notice,” Marco put in a bit proudly.  “Except gym.”

“What exactly are you?” Jake asked.  “I mean, you’re an alien, but, I mean, well …” He trailed off helplessly.

Marco grinned.  “You don’t exactly look like a Klingon, is what Jake is trying to say.”

I chuckled, which I think surprised them.  ‹I think you’ll find most beings don’t bear too much resemblance to humans with a bit of putty on their face.  My name is Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul,› I said, bowing slightly.  ‹I am a Prince in the Andalite military, assigned to your planet to halt the Yeerk threat.›

“So, you’re royalty?” Tobias asked.

For a moment, I was confused until I remembered the Earth titles.  ‹No, I am merely a warrior.  My rank is War-Prince, which could be seen as Captain or Commander in your language.›

“And Andalite, that’s what you are?” Cassie said.

I nodded, the habit coming back to me.  It had taken me time to quit the practice when I rejoined Andalites, as we did not nod our heads to confer agreement.  Indeed, I had to stop because the ships’ doctors kept thinking the fluid in my inner ears was destroying my balance, and if I wished to not spend time in the infirmary, the habit had to be given up.

“And what are Yeerks?”

‹They are beings that have come to destroy you.›  My pronouncement startled them, and I started going through the facts of the Yeerks.  What they were, how they operated. 

“So you’re here to fight them, to save Earth?” Tobias asked.

“How can we even trust you?” Marco countered.  “For all we know, you could be the ones trying to take us over.”

I was insulted.  ‹Andalites do not take over other species.›

“Marco’s right.  How do we know?” Rachel said.

“He could have killed us already, if he wanted to,” Cassie argued.

‹Indeed.  However, there is no way I can actually prove my claim. In any case, saving your planet has become difficult.›

“Why?” Jake asked.

I sighed and felt the familiar despair rising.  ‹The Andalite Dome ship I was on is no more.  A Blade ship hidden in your orbit surprised us.  All … all of our fighters and warriors were destroyed and killed.  As far as I know, I am the only one who survived.›

“We’re sorry,” Cassie said quietly, after a long pause.

‹They died honorably,› I intoned, careful to keep my emotions in check.  It wouldn’t do to accidentally broadcast like a child.  ‹In any case, I had only wished to inform you I was well, to see that you were well.  I should depart.›

“Can’t we help?” Tobias asked, and, I’ll admit, I felt a swell of pride.  How humans would feel, I know not, but it is a noble trait to wish to protect another, for an Andalte.  No doubt it sprang from our early roots, when one had to protect the herd over all else.  “If Earth is under attack, we should do something.

“Are you insane?! We could get killed!” Marco exclaimed.

And suddenly, they were all arguing, ignoring me.  Humans would never cease to amaze me.

‹No, I will not allow you to assist me,› I interrupted.  ‹This is not a game.  Marco is right.  You may all die.  I cannot allow that.›  Because as noble as their cause was, I would not enlist children, not as I had with those Andalite children.

“Hey, Earth in under attack, and you expect us to do nothing?” Rachel snapped.  “It’s our planet!”

“Why can’t you just go to like, the President and tell him or something?” Cassie asked.

I tried to patiently explain that I couldn’t know if the President or someone around him was a Controller, the ramifications of my actions would have to the Yeerk invasion, and everything.  However, humans are stubborn creatures.

‹I cannot ask you to place yourselves in danger.  You do not understand the dangers, and if you are taken, it is a fate worse than death.  Your capture will lead to the rest of you being taken, to the danger of myself being killed.  It is too high of a risk.›

“So you just tell us all this and leave?” Rachel said, not a little angry.  “Leave us helpless.”

Humans were, if I had learned anything, far from helpless.  ‹Forewarned is forearmed.›

“What if we find out something?  How can we tell you?” Tobias asked, slightly desperately.  “You’ve got to let us help you some way.”

I stared at them.  Even Marco was silent.  ‹Very well.›  I closed my eyes and thought.  ‹You may find me in the forest surrounding this place.  There is a meadow.›  And I deposited the information on how to get there to them.  ‹Now, I must depart.  Please, keep yourselves safe, and have a pleasant day.›

I bowed and returned to my wings before taking to the air, heading back to the city.  I had to look into this club.  Something called _The Sharing_. 

 ****

I checked my map of the city, carefully outlining known Yeerk pool entrances, before sighing.  I shouldn’t have been so surprised that it was large.  It was a Yeerk pool, after all.  They only came in one size – too big.

The School, the Mall, the McDonalds.  Who could tell how much farther?

‹Elfangor, you are over-whelmed and out of your league.›  A Dome full of Andalite warriors destined for ground fight would probably not be enough, although it would be more helpful.

My initial assessment of _The Sharing_ had proved promising.  There were definitely Yeerks leading it, though I couldn’t be sure if _The Sharing_ was started because of the Yeerks or if the Yeerks were merely using an honest club for their goals.  I hoped it was the former, for it would be more damaging to the Yeerks if the club went away.  (Though I hadn’t figured out how I was going to accomplish that.  It was the rather glaring hole in my plans.) If they were merely following their parasitic nature on the club, it meant they had actions elsewhere, and, wherever those were, I had not found them. 

I had not yet made my presence known to the Yeerks.  Until that time, they would be relaxed, careless.  I knew, once I exposed myself, the relative safety I currently had would disintegrate from the Dracon fire that would suddenly be aimed at me.  

Another problem was that, despite what the High Command said, Yeerks are not stupid.  They would soon realize I was operating alone and could plan accordingly.  I knew my limits, and if they exceeded them, all would be lost.

It was utterly depressing.  I needed something to eat.

Something human, I mean.  I was becoming in the habit of eating at least once a day at a human establishment.  The temptation was too great not to, as were the rewards. 

After putting the supplies in a small cave I had found, I took to the air with my northern goshawk morph, a wallet in my talons.  I did not keep my human clothing in the forest.  Ironically, the construction site proved useful in that purpose.  I had a variety of outfits hidden around the location in case a homeless person or troublesome youth found one.

Circling the area showed no persons lurking, so I dived down into the skeletal structures and prepared to demorph and dress.  Once that was completed I slipped out onto the street and headed towards the mall.

I never really liked the mall, but my dislike would be waylaid because of the many options for food.  Entering, I was still uncomfortable with the crowds and walls, but I made do, heading towards the food court, guided by the delicious smells.

Options!  Marvelous options!  My mouth was already salivating.  What to choose, what to choose?

In the end, I decided to go simple, basic.  Nothing too much.  A double quarter pounder with cheese with large fries and a chocolate shake and a double chocolate fudge-brownie and a side order of onion rings and chicken nuggets and a fish sandwich and an apple turnover, please. 

… Yes, that would be for one. 

Sometimes humans ask very foolish questions.

Once I had my order – which made for a very full tray – I migrated myself to a corner by a window and tree.  Carefully I set the tray down, as if it were lined with explosives, sat just as gingerly, and took a deep quelling breath.  I could not lose my head.  Had to remain perfectly calm and in control.

Five minutes later, I was left with half the fries, a few chicken nuggets, and a lot of wrappers, which I was not going to eat!  And a mild stomachache.  I forced myself to eat slower.  I didn’t want to vomit.  Carefully I nibbled on the nuggets and allowed my other senses to come to the front.

There were a few comments about my eating, a few stares, but I ignored them.  I studied the people around me, the families, the young adults.  Any one of them could be a Controller.  Well, perhaps not the sleeping newborn.  Or the two-year-old in the midst of a temper tantrum, demanding a balloon.  But everyone else.

On a nearby table someone had left a newspaper, and with a bit of effort I managed to snag it and start to peruse the news.  There was nothing of special consequence.  It wasn’t like they proclaimed Yeerk activities, however helpful that would have been to me, and I soon grew bored with human news. 

One thing that troubled me was the current year.  I had been off Earth eighteen years.  However, my son was several years off that age, and, if going by the current year, I would have left Earth after I had even barely arrived, before my son could have been conceived. My Andalite mind could not comprehend how I could have been present with my Loren and conceive a child when the times did not match up.  Certainly I had been present on Earth, hadn’t I?  I had a human morph.  No one merely remembered.  I had been absent from the Andalite military, while not as long as my remembered presense on Earth, for a reasonable time, and I believed the Ellimist must have fudged with the time stream, placing me in the past.  Yet none of it lined up, even with that allowance.  How could it have been arranged, so that my presence was here at the required conception of my son, at a time when I certainly was not?

It was a Möbius strip of logic, Ellimist logic, and I could not think of an answer without getting a headache.  I had to remain confident that the Trickster hadn’t lied to me when he said Tobias was my son.

As I contemplated cause and effect and time, I was surprised to see Jake, Marco, and Tobias walk into the food court and take a seat, not next to me, but close enough that, if I strained, I could eavesdrop.  Soon after their arrival, Cassie and Rachel appeared, the latter holding several shopping bags, apparently saw them, and made their way over.  My eyes narrowed at the contrived naturalness of this meeting. 

I couldn’t quite make out their conversation.  They were speaking in whispers, but I think I caught enough.  They were speaking of possible Controllers, as apparently they felt they should be on the lookout for alien invaders.  I struggled not to jump and hiss at them to not speak in such a public venue.  If I could overhear them, what about the Controllers?

I sat, watching them and eating the reminder of my food, making sure no one seemed to hear them.  However, once I finished, had a reason to stand, I took the tray and walked to their table purposefully.  Marco noticed me first, and he motioned the others to be quiet, and they watched me.  I stepped closer, and they leaned back.

“I told you children to not become involved in this,” I said quietly, angrily.

They gasped.  “Prin—” Cassie started.

I shushed her, frowning severely.  “Excuse me.”  I went to deposit my refuse and then returned, sitting at the table alongside them.  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

“We’re shopping.” Rachel said.  I didn’t believe her.  I had married a woman who used shopping as an excuse to get out of doing things.  I may have had a healthy appetite as a human, but Loren certainly didn’t have to shop three times a week for groceries.  For whatever reason, she had never wished to discuss the interactions of the quantum particles that make up a system as such that the probability of them being anywhere is never certain, but based upon the statistics the location could be assumed as such, and therefore …. She tended to run to her car by then.  It was, actually, very amusing.

“So I see.  Just do me the favor and do not speak of issues of universal import where anyone can overhear you.”  I stood and prepared to leave.

“Don’t you want to know what we found out?” my son asked.

I sighed.  I could not pass up possible Intel.  Even if it was poor, it may be better than what I had.  “Not here.  Tomorrow.  Come to the meadow after your lessons.”

 ****

 After patiently listening to the children’s report, I felt compelled to tell them when they spoke correctly.

“I knew it!” Marco crowed.  “The teachers, the vice-principal, there’s a reason they’re all evil.”

“Marco, this isn’t a joke.  What about Melissa?” Rachel snapped.  “She’s in danger if her parents are under their control.”

‹Be as that may be, there is nothing you can do,› I said firmly.

Rachel looked at me angrily. “She’s my fiend!  I have to do something.”

“Like what?” Jake asked.  “Anything you do might put her in more danger.”

‹Tell me about this club, _The Sharing_ ,› I requested, wishing to leave this conversation.  Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, and I was willing to let this Melissa be one of them.  Perhaps it was cold, but she held no ties to me, and I had sacrificed those far closer.

“Why?” Marco asked suspiciously. 

“You know something about it!” Rachel accused.

‹Please, tell me.›

“It’s a family group thing.  They do a lot of activities and everything,” Cassie explained.  “Jake’s brother, Tom, is in it.” 

I did not even glance at Jake.

“So was my mom,” Marco added.  “Although, gee, who runs it now?”

“Chapman,” Rachel stated.

“That could just be a coincidence,” Tobias put it.

“Oh, come on.  Everyone we said was somehow connected to _The Sharing_ ,” Marco said, and he apparently missed the subtle signals.

“Tom’s not a Controller,” Jake said firmly, with all the conviction of someone who has no proof, and he looked ready to personally defend the stance.

“We’re not saying he is,” Cassie said quickly, setting a hand on his arm.

‹It is a connection not to be taken lightly,› I said not unkindly.  ‹Being in such an organization might very well increase someone’s chance to be taken involuntarily, or to be coaxed to be voluntary.›

“There are voluntary controllers?” Tobias questioned.

‹Many Taxxons are voluntary.  There are always some who are too weak to stand against the Yeerks, who agree with them, or who side for material benefits.›

“Tom wouldn’t,” Jake said stoutly.

I decided to play Devil’s advocate, merely to point out that he could not be sure.  ‹Even if, by his being infested, your parents and you would remain safe?  Of course, I do not believe a Yeerk’s word, but they would promise it.  Many parents would freely give themselves to save their children.›

At my words, Jake looked troubled.  I hoped it would be enough for him not to confront his brother or be otherwise suspicious.

‹You should return home before your parents worry,› I said to them.  ‹And do not do anything foolish.›

Slowly, they left, except Tobias, who hovered near the edge.  While amused, I was also touched.

‹Is there something else, Tobias?›

“No, not really.”

‹Should you not return home?›

Tobias shrugged.  “My uncle wouldn’t know if I was there or not.”

I felt a jab of anger at the human, at any creature that could not realize the importance of their young.  Andalites are especially protective of our own.  ‹I am sorry to learn that,› I said softly.  I paused, and suddenly the curiosity was too much.  I had to know.  ‹Your mother … tell me about your mother, Tobias.  Your family.›

He was surprised at my request.  And troubled.  He avoided my gaze.  “She … disappeared.  When I was just little.  I don’t know what happened.  I guess she died.  People say she just left because she was messed up.  They said she never got over my father.  I don’t know.  But I know she has to be dead because she’d never have just left me.  No matter what.  But maybe that’s what I told myself.  I don’t exactly have a family.”  He seemed ashamed at such an admission. 

It was a fresh stab to my hearts.  I wondered if she never got over me, however foolish it was to ponder, however selfish. I would rather have her to forget me than to be in pain because of my memory, so she could have stayed with our son with a peaceful heart.  Of course, I would rather be in pain with her memory than without.   I wished to know more, but I could not ask.  It was not done, and maybe my son did not know the full story.  ‹Sometimes family is not what you have been born into,› I said softly. 

“What about you?  Do you have family?”

‹I have my parents.›  I stopped and closed my eyes.  ‹I also had a little brother, but he has moved on.›

“What happened to him?” Tobias asked tepidly.

‹He was stationed on the same Dome ship as I.  He was a new _aristh_ , a cadet.  It was his first mission.  During the attack, I ordered him to the Dome, as he was too young, too inexperienced to fly.  It was shot down into the ocean by the Blade ship.›

“It wasn’t your fault.”

My eyes opened and I saw Tobias giving me a concerned look.  I smiled.  ‹Perhaps.  Perhaps not.›

“What was his name?”

‹Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.  I believe he would have enjoyed meeting you.  He was around your age.›

Tobias smiled.  “We would have liked to have met him.”

I had meant Aximili meeting Tobias, not all of the children, but I didn’t correct the mistake.

“We were surprised to see you … well, you know, at the mall,” Tobias said.  “Can you become anything you want?”

‹I may become anything I can acquire.  Morphing is not a natural Andalite ability,› I explained.  ‹Our scientists engineered the ability at around your nineteen-sixties.  Provided I can acquire a DNA sequence, I may morph into whatever I wish for two hours.›

“Why only two hours?”

‹After that, the change is permanent, and I would become a _nothlit_ , unable to return to my true form or ever regain the morphing technology.›

“Does it hurt, morphing?  It looks awful.”

I smiled.  ‹It is quite painless, thankfully, although I will admit some of the sensations are disturbing.›

“I’ll bet.”

My son stayed only a few minutes longer before I suggested he leave before it got dark.

 **** 

The trouble with being stranded on Earth is the decided lack of anything technologically advanced.  Or at least advanced enough that I could obtain without getting shot at by Yeerk fire or drawing unwanted attention to myself.  Purchasing several large satellites to orbit the planet was certainly out of the question.

Besides, then I’d have to buy or, more correctly, create the fuel to somehow get them up in space.

I swore quietly at my failed communications device.  What good was something that only picked up Skrit Na music?  No doubt it would sometimes pick up the odd Yeerk news, but it was not going to assist me in contacting the homeworld.

Before you dare think I cannot put together a simple communication array, let me assure you I certainly passed that course with flying colors.  However, in my current defense, that class assumed I’d have access to things more advanced than – to put it politely – materials that were only a bit more useful than rocks.

With a frustrated huff I turned off the device – and atrocious music – and knew it was no use.  If I wanted any sort of contact, I was going to have to steal, if not a Yeerk communicator, Yeerk parts.  At least those I could manipulate.

Honestly, I knew the endeavor was doomed to failure before I started.  However, one has to at least try, and I did greatly desire the High Command to send Dome Ships to Earth rather quickly.  I had been against sending only one to begin with.  Of course I am protective of Earth, but I thought it was a bit bold to send only one in the first place. 

Popular gossip would have one believe a single Dome ship is superior against a Yeerk Blade ship.  In general, let me state quite firmly, that is true.  Andalite Dome ships are superior to Yeerk Blade ships.  However, superiority does not guarantee success.  And I thought it irresponsible to send a single Dome ship to a planet where there were Yeerks, where there was evidence that we would need to be a sustained presence for an undetermined amount of time when the nearest for assistance could be days – if we were lucky – away.  Of course, I understand our resources are limited, but it was foolish.  It wasn’t like we were being sent to monitor something with little risk.

Perhaps my foresight to the Dome’s destruction might have its roots in what the Ellimist had shown me those years ago, before I returned to the war.  I’d always known I had a son, that he would meet with the other children.  At the time, I had assumed my brother would have met them as well.  I wasn’t sure if that was trickery or misunderstanding on my part.  I had seen the lines join … should not my little brother be by my side now, alive?  Or was it merely by Aximili being present, so close in space to these children that from the distant I was at it looked like the lines had merged, that this chain of “noninterference” was created?  I could not be certain.  All I knew is that, for some reason, these children’s lives were important.

Was it because they had seen me land?

Was I really being foolish, believing them to be of importance?  They were human children.  Had my eye been drawn to them because I had seen my son, who met with my brother, and these four other lines joined, and there truly was nothing of import in their meeting?

I sighed and tapped my hoof.  Sometimes I used to try to remember those lines I had seen, how the universe looked from such a perspective.  I cannot recall it anymore.  It is too far in the past and too great for me to understand.

That is enough for the pointless mind wanderings, Elfangor, I scolded myself.  You have Yeerks to torment. 

So far my activities on that front were barely a blip on their radar, as the humans say.  I was still being cautious, looking more to find information than to actually stop them.  My list of extremely probable Yeerks grew and turned into certainties, though part of me wondered what I could do for the next step.  I was no assassin, and going out to kill them in cold-blood set me on edge.  It was one thing to kill in battle; another to murder.  Added to that would be the trouble.  One Controller killed the Yeerks might over-look, but two or three or four would make them suspicious and on their guard.  I had to be careful, for more than one reason.

I’ve always lived under the assumption that the Yeerks would sooner kill than capture me, lived with relief.  I knew too much, about Andalite secrets, my secrets, the _Time Matrix_ , and now the _Escafil_ Device.  However, I wasn’t so careless to realize that should some Yeerk wish to grow in power, I would make a good host if it could happen.  In Prince Alloran’s body, Visser Three was the only Yeerk with an Andalite body.  It gave the Abomination his edge, no doubt, and I didn’t wish to give another Yeerk such a privilege.  If I were to taken, it would be a blow to my people, both in reality and in spirit.  I was not ignorant of my prestige, though I did my best to ignore it, and my capture – perhaps even my death – would hurt morale. 

Of course, my own death or capture would damage my morale as well, but such concerns are secondary in concern to the homeworld.

I took care to hide my mechanics in the hollow tree, thinking as I did so that I might have to purchase a house just so I have somewhere to put everything I would need for my tasks.  Of course, to buy a house, I would need to obtain more money, and I dimly decided that some untraceable financial tapping was in order.  I might as well steal from my list of known Yeerk operations.  Every bit of damage counted.

One of my main goals was to figure out which Visser was stationed on Earth.  Knowing that could give me an idea of how their plans would progress, based on the information our spies had gathered.  Of course, of the maybe forty-two Vissers, reliable knowledge is only known for about half.  Part of me hoped I knew whomever the Visser turned out to be was; another hoped not, because, while I could have the advantage of knowledge, it meant they had a reason to be known.  In this war, there is never a good reason why we know a Yeerk.  It is the savage, the dangerous ones we learn of, the successful ones.  The quiet ones – even if they are successful – draw little attention.

To aid in my endeavor to learn the Visser, I was attending _Sharing_ meetings, the top-members-only ones, in a small mouse morph.  I figured, eventually, the Yeerk would have to speak to his or her committee.  So far, the direct number hadn’t been spoken – of course, I had only attended two meetings at this time – but I recognized enough to know this wasn’t one of the nicer Vissers. 

I will admit, this Yeerk, whomever he or she is, I would kill even when not in battle.  The death would rattle the ranks and cause much needed confusion.  It is my current plan.  All I needed was to know what the Controller looked like.  Hiding up in the Blade ship may work for now, but once I knew the human – I’m rather confident a human would have been taken, or will be, because Earth is still under infiltration, and Vissers always like to visit the operations – I could bide my time and attack, kill. 

It is not a very honorable plan, I admit, but understand it is only the Visser I wish to attack in the manner.  And it is for the good of Earth.  Humans.  Andalites.  The Universe.

It also did not trouble my sleep too much. 

I have done much worse that I am ashamed of.

 ****

I am not superstitious.  I’ve never been taken in by either Andalite or Human beliefs of ill omens.  Comets were comets, and broken mirrors were broken mirrors.  However, that did not mean I was immune to feeling nervous about situations, that I ignored my intuition when it told me things boded unwell.  From the tips of my stalks down to my hooves, I felt as if something was going to happen.  Almost needless to say, it felt like something unpleasant.

I cannot justly explain it.  The feeling had been with me from when I woke to now, where I stood in shadows on a roof watching Yeerk proceedings.  I could not stop my eyes from darting, my tail from twitching, from shifting my weight from hoof to hoof.  Nervous energy coursed through me, and more than anything it annoyed me.  I was acting like a fresh _aristh_ on his first mission. 

Even though I was annoyed, I didn’t ignore the feeling.  My instincts had served me well these years, and I could hardly afford to throw away something that could very well save my life.

Of course, it was just as likely to get me killed, so I would just have to temper instinct with common sense. 

Looking down at the meeting, through the glass in the window at an angle that would be difficult to see me, I waited.  The Controllers were arriving, parking their hosts’ vehicles and making chitchat.  From my view, I thought they looked nervous as well.  More nervous than a normal meeting should warrant. 

I felt the hair down my backbone rise. 

The meeting soon started, and my eyes widened as a hatch opened from the floor, as an elevator rose up.

No, no, it couldn’t be!  Not him.

But it was, as the shadows showed the blue fur, the stance, as the aura was emitted.  Now that I knew, it hit me even harder, the malice and over-confidence and power.  I felt myself shaking, not out of fear, but of anger.

How dare he be on this planet?  How dare he defile this innocent world with his filth?

I admit it, I lost myself.  I wasn’t prepared to find Visser Three on Earth, and my feelings escaped.  And he sensed them, and I saw his stalks swivel to look up.  I didn’t move in time, for I heard him scream, ‹There is something on the roof!  See what it is!›

Well, at least he hadn’t seen me.  But he had sensed me, he was on guard.  He might end up believing it could have been an Earth animal, but the part that occupied Prince Alloran, the Andalite, would recognize another Andalite’s psychic imprint.

Quickly I morphed into my owl and took to the sky, leaping to the air as the first Controller reached the roof.  I flew home.  There was no reason for me to stay. 

I learned what I had needed.

Visser Three.  Could this possibly get any worse?  Aside from being alone on this primitive planet, I had to deal with the _Abomination_.  Visser Three – aside from inhabiting an Andalite – is one of the worst Vissers.  He is cruel and impatient and violent, who prefers a full snap-blade attack to the throat instead of crippling nicks.

It came to me suddenly that he must have been recently assigned here.  The current infestation was far too subtle for Visser Three.  I wondered if he was brought here as punishment or reward, or if his talents were needed.  There were too many possibilities.

Flying back to the woods, I could not help but mutter about the coincidence that he would be here, that I would be here, on Earth.  It was almost our start.

I wondered if it would be our end.

 ****                                

“Are you all right?” Tobias asked, sitting on the log.  He had been watching me for some time.  For the past few days, he’d coincidentally wander by this meadow.  The first few times, I hadn’t been around, but then I had seen him from my sky view.  I started being present, coincidentally as well. 

It was foolish of me to take time out to spend time with a human child, but, I said to myself, it wasn’t foolish to spend time with my son. 

Tobias was still more in awe of me than anything else.  I was not so blind as to have not seen this.  I was still _an alien_ , a strange one by human beliefs.  (To be honest, I am used to being held in awe, to be surrounded by others who are too shocked to speak.  Other warriors, especially young ones and _arisths_ , barely managed to speak two thoughts to me.) But, eventually, he spoke more freely, albeit still carefully.

I was in shock about what he said about his life.  It was a simpering shock.  How … how could his “relatives” treat him as such?

(How could _I_ have left him to be treated so?)

His school life seemed little better.

Sometimes I tried to steer the conversation towards his mother, but never so much that it would make him overly curious.  It was a fruitless, for it seemed Loren had left his life when he was hardly a year old.  His “father” had died before his birth.  (In a way, this was true.)

In turnabout, Tobias hesitantly asked me about my family.  I told him simple things.  What my parents did.  Mother’s never-ending goal to make me take a mate.  Father’s favorite tales, which he seemed to always have to tell me at least one of when I returned home, as if I was still a little one who never left his shadow, and how I humored him.  About Aximili … how I had been so proud he had made it through the Academy.  Worried, yes, guilty, yes, but still so very proud.  Remembering his complete shock, happiness when I told him we would be on the same Dome ship.

In this time, Tobias had learned to read an Andalite’s facial expressions.  He was a quick study, like his mother.

‹Pardon?›

“You seem … upset.”

I gave a small smile.  ‹Last evening I learned something that did not especially please me.  It still does not.›

“What?  If you can tell me.”

‹I discovered the Visser stationed on this world is Visser Three.›

“Is that bad?”

‹It certainly isn’t good.  The Visser and I … we have a long history,› I said, disseminating the truth slightly.  ‹Visser Three is especially reviled by the Andalite people.  He is the only Yeerk who had an Andalite host.›

“Can he morph as well?”

‹Unfortunately, Prince Alloran was a modern warrior and didn’t oppose taking the ability.›  Back then, warriors had the choice.  Now, it is given as part of training.  ‹Such a thing makes Visser Three very dangerous.›

“How long as he been a Controller?” Tobias asked after a while.

‹Over two of your decades.›  I closed my eyes in the guilt. 

“Oh.”  He sounded surprised.  Obviously, it hadn’t occurred to him exactly how long the Yeerks had been attacking.  How long a host would be forced to remain their captive.  “I’m sorry.”

‹So am I.›

“Did he have a family?”

I took a deep breath.  ‹Yes.  A wife and two children.›  They were almost pariahs, from what I understood, by their shame and pain.  ‹These years … it has been hard on them.  But they still hope.›  For his freedom or his death.  After so many years, such states were the same.

Tobias nodded, wrapping his arms around his torso.  He was probably getting cold.  It was getting late.

“When do you think other Andalites will come?”

‹It could be years,› I admitted.  ‹Our Dome ship was supposed to be enough to defend this world.  However, our intelligence was in error.›

“Yeah,” he agreed.

I cast him an eye, not very amused by his agreement.  He gave a sheepish smile.  ‹How are the others?›

Tobias shrugged.  “They’re okay, I guess.  I mean … we’re not that great of friends.”

‹I had thought … never mind.› Was my son so very alone?  I had thought … they had spent time together, I saw it.  Then I realized they had merely bonded because of me.  Such a thing, while it might last, is not enough to make friendship.

“It’s all right,” he said quickly.  “They’re great and everything.  We just don’t hang out.  Rachel and Jake are … well, we’re not on the same social strata.”  He grinned, and his nose wrinkled in a way that reminded me of Loren when she had been amused.  “I have a few classes with them.  I think they just want things to be normal.  Especially Marco.”

‹And you do not?›

He shrugged again.  “Nothing’s so great about normal.”

‹No, I suppose not.  Of course, there is nothing so great about being not normal,› I said sympathetically.

Tobias looked down at his feet and I saw him nod.  “Were you ever not popular in school?”

I set a hand on his shoulder.  ‹I was rather average,› I admitted.  ‹Andalite schools are a bit different than human schools.  When I was very young, I think I could have been described as, how do the humans say, infused with sugar?›  I saw Tobias smile.  ‹It drove my parents crazy.  In the academy, I was the serious student, but I was not especially important in the scheme of the class.  I only became popular, as you say, when I reached my rank.›  I paused.

‹But, there a time before that were I was about as odd as fish in the sky,› I said.  ‹I spent some time in a … in a completely different culture than my Andalite heritage.  It was a learning experience.  I know it is not easy, not being normal.  But it does pass.›

“Not always.”

I laughed kindly.  ‹You are an adolescent.  You think the world will end if you cannot fit in.  Believe me, it does not.  And you will soon find that being normal is decidedly not normal.›

Though he might have appreciated my words, I could tell Tobias didn’t actually believe me.  Of course he wouldn’t.  Children never believe their elders about such facts of life.  I know I hadn’t.  It was, then, impossible to believe anyone so “old” could understand what life was really like.

‹It is growing late.  Return to your home, before it becomes dangerous.›

“All right, Elfangor.”  Even though he sounded reluctant, he left, looking over his shoulder every few steps.

I felt myself slump in defeat when he disappeared. My son, the poor child.  My hearts went out to him. 

These days, I had been going through his files, trying to locate my Loren.  It had been difficult.  I didn’t know how to start.  There was little information.  It was like she had simply dropped off the world.  (I hoped not, because _dropping off the world_ could be a euphemism for being taken as a Controller as well as dead.  I honestly did not know which I would prefer.) 

I did not let myself worry.  Not yet.  I was sure I would find her.  I just had to be patient.  It may be a little cliché, but it was almost like the stories my parents had told me when I was young.  I was returning to her, even after all this time, after all this distance. 

Of course we couldn’t pick up where we left off.  I realized that.

But, other than that, it was a bit like the stories.  I just had to find her.

And I would.

 ****

Ready to take my afternoon meal, I soared over the forest.  I was starving.  However, as I neared, my goshawk hearing could hear my name being screamed across the wood.

‹What the --›  I flapped to pick up speed.

As I neared my meadow, I was surprised to see Marco screaming my name.

‹Marco!  Marco!  I believe everyone in the forest knows my name now!› I snapped, ducking to the branches. 

“It’s Jake!  He’s gone nuts!” Marco screamed at a small squirrel, which wisely scampered into a tree.

‹Marco, I’m the bird above your head.  Now, what about Jake?›

“He’s gone nuts!  Ever since you mentioned _The Sharing_ , he’s been trying to prove Tom’s not a Controller.  Which he isn’t, of course!  But we shouldn’t take chances, should we, when aliens could take us over.”

‹Marco!› I interrupted.  ‹What is Jake doing?›

“He’s sneaking into a _Sharing_ meeting!  I left Rachel and Cassie trying to talk sense into him, but you got to do something!  He’s obsessed!”

My eyes were sharp.  ‹Where is this meeting?›

“That club house thing they have.  You know, on the South Richmond-Oak corner.”

Oh dear.  ‹The one that’s members only?›

“Yes!!”

I could have fallen from the branch if my grip hadn’t tightened.  That boy was going to get us all killed!  ‹Go and help them stop him!  Knock him out, if you must!› I ordered, flapping to another tree.  I started pecking off the loose bark until if fell to the ground, and I dug inside with my talons.

“What are you going t—whoa, don’t shoot me!”

‹GO!› I ordered, gripping the Shredder and flying as fast as I could.

I hoped it was fast enough.

 ****

It wasn’t.

I could see from the roof – the same roof that I had seen Visser Three – the meeting was already in progress.  And I could see Jake’s brother, on the stage, next to the other Controllers, could hear them speaking about things that no one who wasn’t a Controller should hear.

Currently, I was hearing, “—for the Yeerk Empire.”

That was never a good point to come into a conversation. 

My eyes looked around, trying to find the children.  It didn’t take long.  They were hidden, inadequately, behind the panels.  From my view, their spot was poorly chosen, but from the level of the Yeerks, it was obviously good enough.

Jake looked sick, afraid, angry.  Rachel looked just angry.  Cassie had a hand on their shoulders.

‹What are you children doing?!› I hissed.  They jumped and looked around wildly.  ‹No, stay calm and don’t get caught!›

I started to demorph and picked up the Shredder.  This was dumb, but I couldn’t risk them getting caught.

‹When I distract them, you _will_ escape.  You _will not_ mount some stupid, foolish rescue attempt!  Do I make myself clear?› I hissed as my stalks came into view.  ‹You put yourselves and me in danger!  Stupid children!  Stupid!  I can’t believe I thought you trustworthy enough to know anything!  Stupid.›

Finally, I was in my true form.  Let me emphasize my position.

I’m an Andalite.  On the roof a Yeerk meeting hall.  Which was filled with Yeerks.  In broad daylight.  With a Shredder that had maybe ten good shots.  Against Controller that probably had an unlimited supplies of Dracon beams.

To rescue three patently stupid human children!

_And_ this would inform the Yeerks I was on Earth!  I was already an endangered species on this planet!  I didn’t need the Yeerks to make it a goal to make me extinct.

It’s times like these I wonder about my fondness for the human race.  Obviously my sense is severely flawed.

I took a deep calming breath, the Shredder a familiar feel in my hand.  I raised it, looked down the glass. 

‹You will leave in this resulting chaos.›

And I shot at the speaking Controller.  He went down with a very terminal hole in his chest. 

Cries instantly started and I kept firing, and more Controllers dropped to the ground.  But it was less fatal, as the power was running low, running out.  I purposely stood in the skylight, and the Yeerks screamed and pointed at me.

“Andalite!”

As I hoped, the children managed to sneak out with the rush of Yeerks that were no doubt running to the ceiling to kill me.  Hopefully, no one would realize they didn’t belong.

Now to worry about myself. 

The Shredder was drained of power, and I threw it aside.  It was useless now, and it would just slow me down.  I ran down to the roof, bent my legs, and jumped to the next building roof.  Thankfully, it was lower.  Looking back with my stalk, I could see the Controllers pouring into the roof. 

With Dracon beams.

I hated being right.

I jumped down off the building into the alley, knowing it was going to hurt.  And, when my front leg snapped, the bone broke through skin, it did hurt.  But I was already morphing to my rodent form.  I could escape with that.  Morphing a bird was suicide if Yeerks had Dracon beams.

Soon I was small and scampering against the wall, behind the Dumpster, under a fence.  My blood would show I had been there, the small footprints in blood would show I morphed, but finding a specific rat in an alley was a hopeless goal.  All I to do was put distance between us.

Rats aren’t very fast, but I was swift enough, small enough to make my escape.  And I had time.  Carefully – after all, I was a fat rodent, and many feral animals would love to try to make a meal out of me – I made down several streets.  And then, I slipped into the sewers, landing in water I do not want to think about.

It wasn’t deep. 

I demorphed and did my best to not breath, and I closed my hooves to the foulness under them.  The water came up to my knees.

‹I am going to kill them,› I swore quietly, trudging down the passageway.  I don’t know if I meant the Yeerks or the children more at that particular moment.

 ****

The children were silent, not meeting my gaze.  I wouldn’t have met my gaze either.  Fury was rolling off me in waves, and I had to tell myself I couldn’t beat them upside the head with my blade.  Humans are frail, unlike Andalites.

Cassie was biting her lip, obviously trying to not cry.  Rachel was looking furious, her fists clenched.  Marco was avoiding looking at any of them, his eyes constantly darting to my twitching tail.  Jake … Jake was focused on his knees.

A crunch of leaves made them all jump, and they looked up.

“Umm … hey, what’s up?” Tobias asked.  Then he made a face.  “Ehh, what’s that smell?”  I glared at him, and he quickly sensed my answer.  “Oh.  So … ah, what happened?”

‹Some very foolish children decided to eavesdrop on a Yeerk meeting,› I growled, ‹placing all of us in danger.›

His eyes widened and he looked at the others.

“We’re sorry, Prince Elfangor,” Cassie whispered.

‹ _Sorry_ does not undo the dangers you put yourselves and me in!› I snapped.  ‹I have been able to live in anonymity until this foolish stunt!  Now the Yeerks will be looking for me, they will be aware that I could be sabotaging their operations!›

“Look, we’re sorry, okay,” Rachel snapped. “It was dumb, we know, but we had to know.”

‹You should have asked me!›

“Like you would have told us,” she countered, sounding every bit like a child denied a right.

“Rachel, shut up before he takes your head off,” Marco hissed.

“It’s my fault,” Jake mumbled.  Then he looked up at me, and his eyes were wet.  “I … I had to know. Everything you said, it all seemed possible, it was enough, but I had to see it for myself.”  And now he wished he hadn’t.  It was easier to pretend the lie when you didn’t know the truth.

Despite my sympathy, my tone remained sharp.  ‹And you put the others in danger.›

“He’s my cousin!  I had to right to know, too,” Rachel said.

‹And now you know,› I said coldly. 

Jake looked back down as Rachel looked away.  “Yeah.  Yeah,” he nodded.  Then he looked up at me.  “Can’t you do something?  Save him somehow?”

‹And what do you suggest?  Kidnapping him, starving the Yeerk out?  And then what?› I demanded.  ‹Where could your brother go or hide?  They know he’s a Controller!  If he escapes, they’ll either kill or recapture him.  And you want me to risk my life so that if he is recaptured, the Yeerk can drag all the information your brother gathered in his freedom and use it against me?  Is that what you suggest?›

The boy avoided my gaze.

“There’s got to be something we can do to save Tom,” Rachel demanded.

‹Not making yourselves an easy target for the Yeerks would be a good start!›

“Isn’t having Tom a Controller a danger for Jake anyway?” Cassie asked quietly.  “Won’t they try to take the rest of Jake’s family?”

‹It is a possibility,› I conceded.

“Then we have to be able to defend ourselves!  Can’t you give us a ray gun or something,” Rachel suggested.

“Just what Rachel needs, a ray gun,” Marco said.

‹That Shredder was the only weapon I had!  All I have left to fight the Yeerks is a med kit, human electronics, which certainly aren’t going to help me, and the _Escafil_ device!›  Then I stopped and thought about what I just said.

The _Escafil_ device.  I could give them the ability to morph.

No. Only an _idiot_ would give _these_ children that power, especially after the stunt today.

And they were children.  I refuse to bring more children into this war.

“Elfangor, did you think of something?” Tobias asked.

I mentally cursed his ability to read my face.  ‹Yes, I have.  But I don’t think I can trust you with it.  Not after today.›

“We’re sor—”

I stopped Rachel with a glare.  ‹And, if I give it to you, you would irrevocably have to fight the Yeerks.  You could never be taken as hosts, ever.  You would be in danger every day.›

“And we aren’t now?” Marco asked.

‹If I give you this, you would have to fight.›

“And we would!” Rachel said.

‹This is War, Rachel.  This isn’t a game,› I snapped.  ‹You know nothing about this life.  You kill your enemy without remorse, every day.  You risk death, every day.  This isn’t video game where you get unlimited lives!  You can, most likely will, die.›

I stared at them, forcing my feelings into my thoughts, let them subconsciously see and understand what this was about.  I didn’t send images – that would be too cruel – but I sent enough to know that War was not like in the movies.

“Could I save Tom?” Jake asked, looking straight up.  “Could I save my brother?”

I blinked at him.  He was scared, I knew it, but there was something in his eyes.  A passion, a reason.  ‹I cannot promise you that.›

“But there is a chance, right?” he continued, fervently.  “And the rest of my family?”

‹You would have the chance, yes.  But _only_ the chance.›

“That’s all we need!” Rachel said, beating her fist into her other hand.  “We have to save Earth.  You should have heard what they were saying!”

I could imagine.

‹You do not understand what you are asking.  I will not.›

“I have to try and save my brother!” Jake yelled.  “How would you feel if it was your brother who was like that?”

‹My brother is _dead_ because of this war,› I said lowly. 

“But you’d have done anything you could have to protect him, wouldn’t you?” said Cassie’s quiet voice.

I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.  ‹Yes, I would have.›

“Give us that chance,” Rachel demanded.  “We deserve it.”

I looked at all of them.  No, this was too fast.  ‹I will take two days to decide.  For you to decide as well,› I said, looking directly at Jake and Rachel. ‹Understand me, this is war.  If I agree and you agree, I will be your Commander.  I will not be your preschool teacher.  I will be leading you into battles, into danger.  You will get injured, you may die.  You will have more responsibilities than you should ever be forced to endure.  You will do terrible things, you will have nightmares, you will wish you were dead.  But if you take my gift, you will fight.  You will have your chance to protect Earth and your families, but it will be at the risk of your life, cost of your serenity and very possibly your soul.›

They all stared at me.

“The army should use that as a sales pitch.  People’d enlist in droves,” Marco said, trying to laugh, but it was forced.

‹Go and decide.›  I looked at all of them, suddenly feeling weary.  ‹Just go, all of you.  I must bathe.›

 ****

Even though I had said I would take two days to decide, I knew I had already done so.  They had the right to want to protect their families and their home.  If they had been Andalite youths, I would not be as against their wish.  (Yes, I would still not wish it, but I would be more willing to allow it.)  Andalites are a people who are hard-wired to defend their homes and families. 

Maybe … maybe if they hadn’t mentioned Aximili, maybe then I would have been responsible, told them no.  But they brought him up.  Reminded me of familial duty.

Looking up at the sky, I realized what I was going to do. 

I was going to break _Seerow’s Kindness_.  Knowingly.  There could be no defense, no claims of me being out of my senses.  When my people learned the truth, I was going to be disgraced.  I wasn’t going to be a War-Prince anymore.  I very well might not be anything, except a _vecol_.  They could chop off my tail and outcast me.  I would bring shame to everyone in my family. 

But … but I could not let my pride stop me from giving another the right, the ability to protect their own home and herd.  I could not leave Earth defenseless.  It was my second home.

There was only one thing I could think of to do on this night.  I did a ritual for my family.  My parents and brother, asking for their forgiveness.  For their understanding. For their compassion.

Because no other Andalite will ever offer me such things again.

 ****

Marco edged nervously into the meadow.  “Hey, Prince Elfangor?” he said nervously.  “Umm, could you … umm …”

I smiled to myself and turned my main eyes onto the boy.  The children still were uncomfortable when I just focused my stalk eyes on them.  ‹Why are you here?›

“Look, I have to say this. I can’t do it,” he said.  “I just can’t.”

I looked at him.  ‹I understand.›

“No, no you don’t,” he said quickly, desperately.  “It’s not because I’m scared – which I am, by the way.  Thank you very much for that.  I didn’t sleep at all last night thanks you everything you said and what Jake and Rachel and Cassie said those Controllers said and –”

‹Marco, you are rambling,› I interrupted kindly.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look, I know Earth is in danger, but I can’t fight.  I can’t risk … if I died, my dad would fall apart, okay?”

‹I am sure the others’ guardians wish --›

Marco shook his head.  “No, you don’t get it.  It would kill him.”  He paused and tried to gain his equilibrium. “My mom died two years ago.  We … we used to be a great family.  Good house.  My dad had a great job.  But then … now, now … we practically live in the slums.  He can’t keep a job.  He drinks and watches TV and, and I can’t die.  It would kill him.”

I looked at him with all of my eyes.  ‹I am sorry for his suffering.  And yours.›  Because I could see how much this hurt him.  Marco may have only lost his mother physically, but he was losing his father every day.  Part of me was angry at such a parent causing pain to their child in such a fashion, but another part understood what it felt like to lose a dear mate.

Marco attempted to laugh.  “Me, I’m fine.  I just … I didn’t want you to think I was a coward, okay?”

‹I would not think you a coward if you did not wish to fight,› I said.  ‹In fact, I would probably think you a bit smarter than the rest of us.›

He grinned weakly at my jest.  “Hey, I’m a genius.  I … I think, if it was different, I’d fight, but I can’t.  I can’t do that to my dad.”

I looked at him.  ‹Marco, there is just as much courage to fight as there is to let others fight for you.  To realize that to protect someone dear you must risk others.  To pick between saving the world and saving your family.›  I closed my stalk eyes.  That was one part I failed at, though I like to believe that by leaving I was saving my Loren.  It might be true as well, but that does not make it any easier.

“Thanks.  For you know ….  You don’t think I’m a coward?”

‹Marco, why would the opinion of a freaky four-eyed, blue-furred alien matter to you?› I asked, genuinely curious.

He shrugged, embarrassed.  “It just does, I guess.  I mean, _you’re_ trying to save Earth and you’re, well, … you’re sort of cool.”

‹In this weather, I believe I am at a comfortable body temperature, actually.›  I winked when he opened his mouth.  ‹I understand, I suppose.›

“Rachel won’t.  She’ll say I’m a chicken tomorrow, when I’m not here.”

‹Marco, may I ask how many humans generally approach creatures that can remove their heads before a human eye can blink, especially when said creatures are fighting hopeless battles and the human has to explain why they won’t be joining the battle?  Do not let what Rachel says trouble you.›

“Oh, I will,” he said a bit flippantly, but still serious.  And truthful.  I smiled at the fragile male adolescent human ego.

‹I will not.  And I will not allow her to call you such in my presence.  Now return home and take care of your father.›

 ****

Giving the children the ability to morph was easier than I worried it was going to be.  Just a few words, the mental command, and the law was broken.

I was not surprised at Rachel and Jake being present, but at the other two.  Cassie and Tobias both petitioned for the right as well.  I knew Cassie wished to help her friends, perhaps save the Earth.  My son … it was clear he was only doing it to be part of something, to remain close to me.  While part of me relished the sentiments, part of me wished it was for more altruist reasons.

I had already silenced Rachel several times when she spoke about Marco.  I couldn’t understand why she seemed to take personal affront at his not being present.

After telling them the rules of morphing – the time limit, how to acquire, the time limit, the influx of instinct, the time limit, the sensations, and, finally, most important, the time limit – I sent them home with orders to not attempt to use the ability.  (Honestly, I did not think I expected them to obey such an order, but I wasn’t quite thinking.)

I wanted to take some time to, I admit, hold back in training children in the art of war, to hold back on breaking the law even more than I already had.  I had given them the ability; now I had to train them on how to use it.  That was like transferring technology, squared.

The High Command was going to _love_ me.  There was going to a new law, _Elfangor’s Kindness_ , or, if they were feeling original and clever, _Elfangor’s Folly_.

It was going to be difficult to fight in this war with four _arisths_.  Four untrained _arisths_ , at that. 

Do not misunderstand.  I have trained _arisths_ before, but those had attended the Academy.  They had a mediocre bit of training before they came to me.  The children were completely ignorant.  Plus, I was training humans.  I didn’t know the proper psychology on their minds.  As I’ve said, humans are fragile.

Perhaps I could get a book on the subject.

‹Yes, Elfangor, they have books detailing how to train humans to defend their home against parasitic invaders in a hopeless situation,› I said sarcastically.  Then I thought about it. 

‹Maybe in the _Surviving Your Mother-In-Law’s Visit_ section.›

 ****

I was getting a headache.  Actually, it would be more apt to say that I’ve had a headache constantly, it was just getting worse.  I do not know how Andalite professors dealt with students.  I simply do not.

As I expected, none of them waited on acquiring or morphing.  Jake had morphed his pet dog; Tobias, his pet cat; Cassie, a horse; and Rachel, a fox that had needed medical care at Cassie’s farm. Of course all of them, once it seemed clear my temper wasn’t going to be roused by their admission, raved about the ability, its coolness and similar adjectives. 

The issue I was having is that, while morphing is not difficult, it came with the job to teach _arisths_ details about it.  After several minutes of trying to explain the logistics, it was clear that I wasn’t explaining it on a level human children could understand, and they weren’t every interested, anyway.  It wasn’t that it was troublesome, but teaching them to control the morphing – and to deal with the human worries about modesty! – was bothersome.  I had captured two rabbits – one a dark brown large male and one small grey female – to teach them how do the _Frolis Maneuver_.   Cassie had managed, after a few tries, but the other three couldn’t comprehend the steps, and nothing either Cassie or I said seemed to help. 

‹Perhaps it isn’t that important,› I finally said.  ‹I suppose you won’t have much use for it.›  Still, I thought it would have been best if they knew everything the morphing ability could offer them, and was frustrated I couldn’t teach three-fourths of them.  I didn’t understand why I have having difficulties, or them, for that matter.  I did not recall having such challenges on that part of the exam.

“When do we start to kick Yeerk butt?” Rachel asked.

I frowned at her eagerness.  ‹I’m analyzing different developments,› I said.  ‹Something relatively safe, but also damaging to the Yeerks.  And before you even battle, you will require more effective morphs.›

“Yeah, I guess bunnies aren’t exactly scary,” Jake agreed. 

“Where can we get them, though?” Tobias asked.

“I can get us into the Gardens,” Cassie said.  “And we have a few animals in my barn.  Wolves, at least.”

‹Wolves could be useful.  I was thinking something like large felines, bears, reptiles, creatures one normally doesn’t want to face.  Also, something with wings, for travel.  Those could probably be acquired at Cassie’s, as you’d want to choose something native to the area, as well as something that can fly without being in prey for other creatures.›

“We’ve got a few hawks and eagles,” Cassie said helpfully.  “We could use them.”

I nodded vaguely, dismissing them.  ‹Go acquire them.  Don’t morph them alone the first time, if you would.›  I looked at Cassie.  ‹When could you arrange a trip to the zoo?›

“Anytime.  Tomorrow, even.”

‹I won’t join you.  I can’t acquire anything, and I’m sure you will keep yourselves safe.  This weekend, you can understand your new forms.›  I looked at them intently.  ‹These will be dangerous morphs and heavily suggest I am present the first time, if any of you lose control.›

They nodded and left.  Once they left my sight, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  ‹Elfangor, you truly are a fool,› I said to myself.  ‹Human children.  Children.  Humans.  Idiot.›

I had to get out my Andalite skin.  Morphing would relieve the pressure building – truly.  In a different form, the throbbing in my head would not be an issue.  And when I demorphed, my body would be at optimal health.  Part of me wondered if I was ill with some Earth bacteria or if was just my realization that this was hopeless affecting my health.  I wasn’t sure which one I preferred.

I decided to go to the Dairy Queen and get a large sundae.  I deserved it, after all this, and I galloped off.  It was tricky to get near the city without morphing, but I had fine-tuned a system and even dared to rush across highways.  (Of course, sometimes I had to wait an exceptionally long time to cross, after looking both ways numerous times, and I always had to remember to avoid rush hour. It was also like being human again.)

When I got to my morphing-zone, where I had to morph to keep myself safe, I changed into some clothes – note to self: take them to a laundry mat, because they were getting whiffy – I kept in a duffle bag stuck in some bushes, and walked the half-mile to the restaurant. 

The sundae I ordered should be offered as medical therapy, and the blizzard I left with as follow-up care.  There had to be some health benefit to them. 

It started drizzling during my walk, and I chuckled at the humans that rushed about as if the water was going to melt them.  I never understood humans being so against standing in the rain. Except Don Lockwood, who like to sing in it.  It was just water.  Yes, I understood wet clothes were cold and uncomfortable, but, well, if you were already wet, why bother?  And I liked the rain.  There was something refreshing about it, as if it could clean you. 

However, rain _does_ water out ice cream. 

Looking around, I was in front of the city government office.  Sucking on the red spoon, I jogged up the steps and entered the building.  (I admit, I felt a bit self-conscious at my squeaky shoes and damp trails.)  Reading the signs, one wing was dedicated to various records, and I wondered if I could somehow see if the Yeerks had bought any property lately.  I knew a few of their business names, including their ever-humorous _Dapsen_.

Of course, I couldn’t just ask for the records.  The last thing I wanted was to let the Yeerks know someone had been looking at their files.  At least some average Joe.  I sat at a table and thought about some ideas.  The records were bound to be in their computer network.  I could sneak back at night and check them then. 

Suddenly, it came to me.  I could look up records for Loren.  (I could look for a death certificate – make sure there wasn’t one.)  I remembered most of her personal information.  I stood and went over to the computer, ignoring the glares the official was giving me for dampening up the place.  After thinking for a bit, I typed in Loren’s birth name and birthdate, making sure the search covered the state.  The results came up and I was relieved that my Loren was the top choice.  Some things hadn’t changed so much. 

I already knew Tobias’s “father’s” name, from checking his records during my initial search, and I hunted for the marriage certificate.  It came as a bit of surprise to me, though I don’t know why, that Loren and her mate had married almost three years after Loren and I had.  Part of me had always thought someone had just replaced me.  But Loren had had a completely different life, it seemed, with my removal. 

Looking for broad records, I could find no sign of a death certificate for Loren.  (And I was relieved.)  But I did find a certificate for her mother, and, I admit, I felt the pain of loss.  Loren’s mother, while she had terrified me (as all mother-in-laws do) had been caring and doting.  She had been like a mother to me, truly, taking me under her wing because I was the “little orphan.”  She had liked me and I genuinely cared for her.  To find that she had died less than a year after I left was a surprise I wasn’t expecting.  To think Loren had had to face that alone, it made me hate myself for my choice.

Shaking myself from the thoughts, I focused back on my search, looking for properties.  Nothing came up, but I wasn’t surprised.  If she rented or had an apartment, such records would be beyond this scope.  It wasn’t like this was tax –

Yes, that was it! Tax records!  If there was one thing about Earth government, it was their love of taxes and paperwork proving the government received them!  And I all had to do would be request a record.  I knew the important information, her birthdate, name, and I could figure out her social security number.  (I had created a code to help me remember it, using the letters off a phone to make two words.)

“Elfangor, you’re a genius.  An absolute genius.”

 ****

‹Hello, Elfangor!›

I looked up into the air and squinted my eyes against the light to see the hawk flying around.  ‹Tobias?  I assume that is you?›

The hawk swooped and landed on the tree.  ‹Yes.  This is wonderful!›

Yes, part of me did smile at his enthusiasm.  Flying was marvelous, in a ship or in bird form.  ‹Is there something you wished to tell me?›

‹No.  I just thought … I just thought I’d go for a flight.  Visit you and stuff.›

My eyes narrowed with disapproval.  ‹How long have you been in morph?›

‹Not long.›

‹Tobias, how long?› I demanded sharply.

He jerked at my tone, the small head turning and feathers fluffing.  ‹Probably a little over an hour.  I guess.›

‹Probably?  You guess?› I repeated.  ‹You do not know?!›

‹I’ve got plenty of time!› he said quickly.  ‹I can see watches from anywhere.  I’ve been keeping track!›

‹Demorph this instant!› I ordered, like I would to a young _aristh_.  Which he was.

Surprised at my order, Tobias complied, fluttering down to the ground.  Within a few moments, he was human, wearing biker shorts and looking at me with wary eyes.

‹What do you think you were doing?› I demanded, towering.

He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again.  “I was just flying, Elfangor.”

‹Why?›

“I … I just was.”

I looked at him intently.  ‹How much do you just fly about, Tobias?›

His head moved back, surprised, and then he looked down.  “Not much.  Just a bit.”

‹How often?›

He shrugged.

‹Every day.›  It was not a guess, and when Tobias didn’t answer, I felt myself grow angry.  ‹This is not a toy, Tobias!›

“I know that!  I was just … just practicing.  We all do.”

Perhaps they all did, but I looked at my son with sharp eyes, remembering the cheer and the tone he had greeted me with.  ‹Yes, but do the rest do it to escape?›

His face turned red even as he questioned, “What?”

‹You are showing blatant disrespect of the morphing ability,› I said.  ‹How dare you use it so?  After everything I’ve said, how dare you not keep track of the time, to use it so flamboyantly?  Are you trying to become trapped?›

“No!” Tobias said.  “Elfangor, I’m not.  I just … it’s different, freer,” he tried to explain.

Part of me did understand, but I couldn’t let him be so careless.  ‹The morphing ability requires great responsibility, Tobias.›

“I know that!”

‹Then why are you being so careless?› I said, stepping away to the bushes.  I found a duffle and dug out a blanket before handing it to the human.   Even in such weather, he was probably cold.  ‹Here, wrap yourself.›

Tobias stared at the blanket before comprehending my order.  “Thanks,” he mumbled as he put it over his shoulders.  “I didn’t mean to …”

‹I know that, but I am still very disappointed with you.›  I had a feeling my disappointment would bother him more than my anger, and I was right.  His face did turn redder.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he started.

‹Not as sorry as you would be if you were in morph too long,› I said.  ‹Tobias, this is not a toy, and you can’t use it to escape life.›  I kept my voice kind.

“I’m not,” he denied.

I didn’t refute his claim , but my silence spoke volumes. 

“I’m not,” Tobias repeated.  “It’s just … flying, it’s nice.”

‹Yes, it is.›  I set my hand on his shoulder.  ‹Tobias, do not treat this as a toy. Do not make me regret trusting you to use it responsibly.›

Looking at his feet, he nodded.  It was possible he could have been trying not to cry.

I smiled slightly.  ‹I trust you will.  Come, I have some clothes for you.  We can go have ice cream.›

 ****


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elfangors receives some good news, and then again, and then the bad news comes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 4

Everything had been going moderately well.  The four children were managing their morphing satisfactorily, and it seemed that my taking them as _arisths_ was not as completely stupid as I feared.  They managed admirably to deal with the Yeerk supply ship that had been harvesting water from a lake up the mountains. 

Yes, I know it was not an exceptionally dangerous mission or very important – after all, there are plenty of bodies of water, and if worse came to worse, the Yeerks could simply filter out the salt from seawater – but that wasn’t the point.  It was merely a test, something to test their mettle.  And they did admirably, I am pleased to say.  The mission had run almost as smoothly as I hoped.

The only thing that nagged at my conscience was the fact that the fight would get worse, the battles more dangerous.  It had been a stepping stone into this bloody war.  Even still, I tried to bury the realization with my pride at their accomplishments.

Being stranded on Earth (again) nearly a month, I had become reacquainted with the habits of humans.  I did not stutter nor play with sounds – which, I admit, I had amused myself by doing when no one was around to hear me.  I hardly tripped anymore, and, while food was still dangerous to be around, I was, ultimately, in complete control.  Unless, of course, they were desserts.  In fact, I should be _congratulated_ that I didn’t gobble down the candy bars in check-out lanes. 

Everything was going well, such as war with the Yeerks can be classified, and I found myself at least less desperate in my despair.  Such in the way the mind works.  Nothing had been changed, but it had grown accustomed with the situation and saw it as less bleak.  Of course, maybe my naturally optimistic Andalite nature was running to the front.

Yes, I _am_ naturally optimistic.

I had spent the day reading a simple Earth fiction novel, covering the recent scientific advances.  The book was technically classified as _nonfiction_ , and there was some basis in reality, but most of it was all so absurdly false that I could hardly controlled my humor.  There was a small electric lantern at my side so I could see in the dark wilderness, far away from where any hiker would ever travel.  I was perfectly safe to read and laugh out loud, if the humor was especially good.  I was chuckling at their ideas of genetics and DNA sequencing when suddenly my mind was filled with the overwhelming images and messages.

_The ocean._

_A voice.  ‹I am here.  I can’t survive much longer.  If you hear me … come.  If you hear me … come_.›

It was over, no matter how much I tried to regain the feeling, it was gone.  But yet, I had to move, jump up.  I knew the voice, I knew it.  My brother!  He was alive.

‹Aximili!›

He had sent me a signal, a mirrorwave call!  He had survived!  If my eyes had the ability to cry, had the proper glands, I would have been sobbing with relief.  My brother, my little brother, he was alive!  I hadn’t sent him to his doom.

I had to think quickly.  He was obviously in the ocean, but which one?  How many did Earth have?  Five?  Atlantic, Indian, Pacific, Arctic, and … wasn’t there five?   Or was the fifth one of those that could be part of the others?  Oh, what did it matter?  My brother was alive.  I had to find him!

Up on my hooves, I paced back and forth.  The signal, it had been relatively strong.  This hemisphere, then.  The Pacific and Arctic.  It hadn’t felt cold, so not at the poles nor especially deep.   

How to find him, though.  The oceans, they were huge, and I had no aquatic morphs that could be useful.  It could take years, and Aximili didn’t have years.  And I still had to fight the Yeerks, battle Visser Three.

Visser Three!  I jerked at the memory of him and grew disgusted.  Curse him for taking Prince Alloran.  There could be no way Visser Three did not receive the signal as well, even if he was on his Blade Ship.  He would be seeking my brother as well. 

No!  I would not allow it!  I would save my brother, no matter what the cost.

 ****

No doubt the children were surprised at my giddiness.  The euphoria of learning my brother was alive still had not left me, even a day later.   However, I was aware of myself enough to understand the import of two of the humans receiving the visions as well.

“Both of you?” I demanded, looking down at Cassie and Tobias.  We were in Rachel’s home.  I did not like going to the children’s home, but Jake insisted he had something to show me.  Something very important, which probably meant it had something to do with the Yeerks.  But, whatever it was, it wasn’t in my mind because I was still relishing that Aximili was alive.

But then Cassie and Tobias told me this, and I couldn’t quite understand, even as they nodded.

“Last night.  It was like a dream,” Tobias said.  “I thought it was one, until Cassie said she saw the same thing.”

“Just like you said, under water,” Cassie added.  “And a voice.”

I stared at them, uncomprehending.  “How could you have received such a transmission?” I muttered, turning away to think.  If they had, other humans unconnected to me might have as well.  “Aximili wouldn’t have been so careless, and humans minds … impossible.”

“Maybe it’s because they can morph,” Jake suggested.  “Cassie’s like the best one of us.”

“Perhaps.”  I pressed my lips together, looking at them intently, but something twisted in my stomach.  The morphing ability wouldn’t influence that, would it?  But maybe it would, because a mirrorwave only enhanced an Andalite’s natural thought-speak, and morphing offered humans  way to learn such a form of communication.  And Cassie was good, our little _estreen_.  But that did not explain why Tobias had.  Unless …

No, that was preposterous.  I had been human.  He _was_ human.  Just because he was my son did not mean he should be any more in tune to Andalite thought-speak that another human.  There was no reason he should have even a sliver of an Andalite ability. 

Yet, deep down I couldn’t help but remember there hadn’t been any sort of studies on what would happen if a _nothlit_ bred, if something of the true form of the parent would pass through.  The scientists wouldn’t have gone that far in their tests.  But, the studies, the reports of the technology agreed that even as a _nothlit_ , a true form is not destroyed, but merely spread out in Z-space, spread too far that it couldn’t be recalled.  It meant, as a _nothlit_ , I had still been Andalite.  It was why the mind still worked, why we still have our memories in morph.  The forms are connected.  If they weren’t, someone in morph would literally cease to be, would only become the wild animal that was being created.  I wouldn’t have been able to thought-speak, project thoughts, keep track of time as a human, or to even remember who I was.

 _Had_ something passed?  Andalite knowledge was somewhat inherited, passed from parent to child.  In times of great stress, someone could go through the _Utzum_ and connect with their ancestors.  Of course, scientists argue if it is a real event or some trick of the mind to help the body cope, and I do not know what I personally believe. 

Part of me felt afraid. If it was possible, I did not know how I could speak of it.  I wasn’t ashamed, but I also did not want the truth known, because it was connected to my shame, my cowardice. 

But then how did Cassie?  It made no sense.  My head wasn’t made for such scientific thoughts, and I didn’t want to know the truth.

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally said, even if it did.  “I have to save my brother.  That means I have to leave.  I have to search these oceans, find him before the Yeerks do.”

“We could help,” Tobias volunteered.

Before I could protest, Jake jumped in.  “Yeah.  Marco called me last night and told me to switch on the news.  You have to see this, Al.”  He withdrew a tape and put it in the player.

It was a news broadcast, a human holding up a piece of metal.  A piece inscribed with Andalite characters.  My eyes darted over the words, and a smile unconsciously spread.  “It is from the Dome!  It is directions to the Engines.  Where did this come ashore?” I demanded of Jake.

“Just on the beach a few days ago,” Jake said, “during the storm.  Marco thought maybe it would be important.”

“Thank him for me,” I said, grateful, before turning.  “The Pacific.  I can analyze currents.  It’s near, it has to be, within one hundred miles.  I can –”

And suddenly I was falling, as my mind was burdened with the mirrorcall.  I almost lost sense, my vision blackened, but I forced myself to remain conscious even as Jake and Rachel gave shouts, for both Tobias and Cassie fell to the ground.  I caught myself, tried to breath. 

The signal was not any stronger, but the human mind is not capable of receiving such treatment without some preparation.  I doubt if I had been ready it would have had such an effect on me, and I tried to read the signals.  But Aximili did not send me any new information.

“Elfangor, Elfangor, are you all right?” Rachel asked.

I waved my hand and sat up, leaning forward to clutch my head and breath deep.  “I am well.  I was just … unprepared.”

“Cassie and Tobias –”

I forced myself to look up.  Cassie was lying on the ground next to Jake, and Tobias only a few feet away.  Both were crumpled, eye lids moving as if dreaming.

“We should call an ambulance,” Rachel said, going for the phone.

“No!  No, they shall be fine,” I sad, crawling to rest between them.  I cupped Cassie’s face gently and felt for her pulse.  Slightly fast.  “We cannot let doctors see them.”

“Why not?” Rachel demanded.

“If they draw blood, they will notice the morphing ability in them, or at least the evidence of it,” I said, turning to Tobias.  His pulse was quick as well. 

“They would?” Jake asked.

I was about to answer when Cassie came to.  Within a few moments, so did Tobias.  “Slowly.  Do not rush yourselves,” I said as both Jake and Rachel helped them to sit.

“It happened, he sent a message again,” Tobias said.

“Yes.”

“I think I felt something too,” Jake said softly.

“Me, too,” Rachel added.

My eyes went to them.  I couldn’t understand how they could.  “It must be the morphing technology.  It is the only explanation.”  Even if it was wrong, it was what I told them.  They did not have to worry.  That was my job.

“We have to do something,” Cassie said.  “We have to rescue him.”

“And I will,” I vowed.

“No.  We could help,” Tobias said.  “Like you said, the ocean is huge.  You need us.”

“And we want to.  If this is your brother, you need to let us rescue him,” Jake said, and I understood what he was saying.  I allowed him to fight so he could save his brother.  He wanted to try to repay the favor. 

“We shall see.  Thank you.  I must research.”

 ****

With a chart of the ocean and all of the reports, I had followed the possible trail of the wreckage. There were several, because the ocean is always moving, and human science isn’t very accurate on such things.  However, I was too desperate to at least not go for a swim, to feel like I was doing something useful.

I went to the Gardens to acquire one of their dolphins.  It was night when I went, and despite my oddity, the dolphins had not seemed wary of me. I managed to coax one close enough with a tempting bit of fish, and even spent a few moments petting it.  It was a pity the Gardens did not have a large whale.  Then I could have traveled with speed and a large girth, which could give me safety as well as the ability to dive deep.  I hoped I could somehow meet and acquire one on my travels.

During the night, I still received signals from my brother, signals that grew fainter.  No doubt, he was running out of power, but I was still worried about him.  The children asked if they could join me, desperate to help.  They had already acquired the morphs some days previously. I decided it there was no harm to it and allowed them to join.  I could do with the company.

Swimming alongside them, I was amused at how much they let the dolphin’s mind come to the front.  Yes, the dolphin mind is a playful one, bubbling, almost like an Andalite, but I did not let myself because like them.  They frolicked like children around me, and I will admit it took me a bit to keep myself from joining them.  ‹Keep together, children.›

We had not even been swimming an hour when Cassie, swimming several yards ahead and to the right of me, called out that she located a shark.

‹Several sharks,› Rachel added.

Deep down in my morph, I was afraid and altered my course so that I was even farther away.  ‹Stay clear of them, children.›  I hoped the creatures would not seek us out.  Sharks, I recalled, were dangerous creatures to other ocean life.

‹There’s something else,› Tobias said.  ‹Something big.›

‹It’s a _great one_.  I mean, a whale,› Cassie said.

‹A whale’s being attacked?› Rachel said, and she sounded angry.  Deep down, so did I, but I kept my head.

‹Leave it be,› I ordered as I purposefully looked away from the hunt.  It was the way of nature, of Earth.  As terrible as it was, whales were food of sharks.

‹No!  We have to do something!›

‹You do what you want, Elfangor!  I’m going in!› Rachel snapped, and she swam away.  The others followed.

‹Rachel!  Cassie, Jake, Tobias!› I yelled, and then cursed myself as I sped up to meet them.  _Fool, Elfangor!  You should not have let them fall so far into the morph!  You should have made their heads come back!_

I saw Cassie ram a shark hard in the gills, hard enough to draw blood from the creature, before she fell back dazed.  And then Rachel and Jake attacked two others from beneath.  And suddenly the sharks were not so focused on the whale, but on my children. 

‹Watch out!› I yelled, attacking a shark from the side that made to attack of them. 

I fell into the basic fighting instinct, dancing around the sharks.  I could feel the children’s terror, but I could not but give them the barest help.  I had my own worries.

It is odd to think, no matter how many Hork-Bajir and Taxxons and Yeerks I have faced, it was the shark that was perhaps the greatest warrior.  Such a creature was designed to fight, as that was how it survived in this hostile environment.  One scrapped my belly hard when we twisted, and I could not but remember that stupid human film, _Jaws_ , the theme mocking me.

 _Not the time, Elfangor_.

But it was in my mind.  Would one look at me any less if I admit that the psychological horror had terrified me, even in its absurdity, when I first saw it?  Such a creature, being on Earth, hunting for prey.  It had struck some deep terror in me, something primitive that maybe was the same in both Andalites and humans, with its lust for blood and sharp teeth and insatiable hunger and unstoppable force.  I remember wondering if my blade would have been enough to stop it, before remembering I had no tail.  I was helpless as a human.  And even if I had a tail, I would have been in the ocean. 

I refused to go into the deep water of the ocean for several months.  Even though Loren never mocked me, I think she knew why.

Almost magically, the sharks left, turning on one of their own.  I hung in the water, feeling the pain of my stomach and snout, and I trembled as the _dum dum dum dum dumdumdum_ rang through my head.

‹Is everyone okay?› I heard Jake ask.

I shook myself.  ‹I am well.›

Cassie, shaken, added, ‹I’ve got a few cuts.›

‹I’m all right.›

Tobias merely groaned, and my attention on him, I almost gasped.  A shark had gotten him near front fin, and blood streamed.

‹Demorph!  Now!› I ordered, somewhat frantically.  Aside from the injury, I couldn’t but remember blood attracts sharks.  ‹Now, Tobias!›

He seemed to be obeying me and I quickly ordered the other to nudge him to the surface and hold him there.  We were in the ocean, and the swells were huge.  A human, especially one who had just demorphed, could drown so easily.

Then, in the mind, like thought-speak, but different, deeper, an emotion filled me, like how parents speak to their newborns or mates to each other.  Something that spread in my mind like a blanket, and I barely heard the others speak of the whale coming to our assistance.  I could only remember Mother and Father speaking to me when I was hardly old enough to remember, until I realized if I didn’t move, the whale was going to beach me on his back.

I hung in the water and could hear Cassie speak with the magnificent creature.  I swam to the other side of the whale.

‹Are you all right, Tobias?› I questioned, drowning out the deeper conversation.

He nodded shakily, curled in a ball and shivering.  I was not sure if it was because of the near-death experience or the cold or some combination of the two.

‹Rest,› I soothed.  ‹He will let you.›

Tobias nodded wordlessly, teeth chattering.

Cassie and the whale were still in deep converse, but I eavesdropped, growing slightly ecstatic when the whale reported the location of the Dome.  When they finished, I spoke to the whale in the deepest way Andalites do.

 _Please, great one, may I become you to seek by brother?_ I asked with the core of my being, where only feelings project. 

The whale acquiesced – though he probably did not understand what I asked – and I demorphed, treading water the best my body would do in the swells.  Under my hand, he relaxed and calmed as I claimed his DNA. 

 _Thank you_ , I said deeply, before morphing back to the dolphin.  Exhaustion was set in my bones. 

The whale responded, calling me a strange creature, another odd thing to his ocean, and I let my amusement come through.  ‹Are you recovered, Tobias?› I asked gently.  He had seen me acquire the whale, and no doubt the rest of the children knew I had done so as well. 

“I … I th-think so,” he said through chattering teeth.

‹Then come, the others cannot remain so much longer.›

Once Tobias was in the water and fully in dolphin form, we left the whale.  The children were far more subdued than they had been previously, thankfully.

‹You acquired the whale, didn’t you, Elfangor?› Cassie said, criticizing.

‹Yes.  With such a form, I’ll be able to reach my brother.›

‹But … but he was … you shouldn’t have just taken his DNA.›

I was weary and exhausted.  ‹Do not suppose you are the only one who can speak with a whale, Cassie.  He agreed.›

‹He did?› she repeated, unable to hide her surprise.

‹Just swim.  I do not wish to meet any more sharks that you four foolishly decide to fight.›

They were quiet.

When we reached the beach and demorphed, the children looked at me as I, growing even more tired, changed to my human form.

“Al, we’re sorry,” Jake said.

“It’s my fault.  I shouldn’t have rushed off,” Rachel added.

I shook my head at them.  “The fault is mine.  I should have drawn your minds back.  I let you play because I was more interested in clues about Aximili, and because it amused me.”

“No,” Cassie said lowly.  “It’s our fault.  We should have taken control.”

I shrugged before looking out at the ocean, too tired to be appropriately angry or sorry, and too disgusted with myself to be upset with them.  “Perhaps.”

“You’re going out again, aren’t you?” Tobias said.  “To get your brother.”

“Tomorrow.  Tonight.  One or the other.  I have to rest.”

“But you don’t know where to go!” Cassie countered.

I gave a small smile and looked at her.  “Cassie, I understood the whale perfectly.  How do you think I spoke to my parents as a child?”

She blushed a bit. 

“Whales thought-speak?” Jake asked.

“It is something deeper than thought-speak, something like when you feel my emotions and intent.  Yes, the whale spoke differently, but I understood.”

“What if you get attacked by sharks?” Rachel demanded.

“It is something I will risk to save my brother.”

The children looked at one another, desperate to say something, but none had the words.  Finally, Jake said, “Good luck, then.”

“Thank you.”

 ****

The next morning, I was surprised that Marco was arrived in my forest.  It was very early, hardly past dawn actually, and I was both surprised and amused that the teenager had managed.

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” he said.

‹Is there a reason, Marco?›

He nodded and through a hand through his hair, yawning.  “Yeah.  Jake said you would probably be gone all day, but I thought you really needed to know,” he said, digging through his pocket and withdrawing a folded bit of newspaper.  He held it out to me, and I took it curious, tilting my stalks like the young do.

“It was in the paper this morning.  Both of them.  One is about this guy who is going to be looking for some supposedly lost treasure ship off the coast.  The other is about some big marine biologist guy who has a ship and is going to be doing some underwater exploration off our coast.”

I sneered as my stalk read the newsprint.  ‹Yeerks.›

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “I thought you should know before you head out, you know.”

Handing back the clippings, I thanked him.  ‹At least I know where I am going.  Hopefully they won’t.›

Marco grinned.  “Directions from a whale.  Your life is beyond weird.”

I nodded, examining the human.  I knew he felt guilty that he did not join the fight as his friends did, and I knew it put a strain on Jake and their friendship, not because Jake was against Marco’s choice, but because of the natural barrier that springs up between civilians and warriors.  The other’s world becomes incomprehensible and alien, a difficult thing to work between for any friends.  It hurt me to think I had damaged such a beautiful thing as their friendship.  But Marco tried to help, keeping a tab on the news and gossip of the human world, doing simple surveillance that I pretended not to know how much work he put into it.  ‹You should see it from my side.  Dealing with humans every day, beyond peculiar,› I said with melodrama.

He laughed, and then yawned.  “Well, I have to get back to bed.”

‹Why do you not stay up?›

Marco gave me a horrified look.  “On the weekend?  Good luck, Elfangor.”

‹Sleep well, Marco.›  I shook my head once the boy disappeared from my sight, then thought about what he had related.  Wonderful.  I knew the Yeerks would eventually mount their own search, but I had hoped it wouldn’t overlap my own much.

There was no time to waste.  I morphed to my seagull and flew to the ocean, the direction the whale had supplied.  I was several miles out to sea before I landed on the water.  After yesterday, I was slightly afraid – foolish, yes – of a shark shooting up to eat me as I rested and morphed.  I admit, I was glad I was a large whale in the water.  Even though yesterday this same whale donor had been under attack from a group of sharks, I felt better.  I was bigger and hopefully would fare better than a true whale.

It was a calming experience to be such a creature.  There was a deep serenity and knowledge about the form.  The whale wasn’t violent and desperate for food, but free and at home in the wide ocean.  It was relief, and I reared and broke the water in a leap because it was enjoyable.  I chuckled to myself, testing the form, before I started on my journey.

The whale traveled slower than I thought.  As a dolphin, I had done faster.  Maybe it was just this whale that was slow, but I couldn’t worry about that now.  With a wave of my powerful tail, I swam on, patiently heading to the directions the whale indicated.

In the water and with my whale ears, I could distantly hear another whale song, perhaps this whale.  For a moment, I was tempted to join in, but then I decided not to.  Part of me found it interesting that my translator chip did not translate the song, and I wondered if it was because the whale didn’t speak intellectually enough for the chip to understand, or if it was because the song was beyond the chip’s capabilities to decipher.  Part of me hoped for the latter.

I swam as fast as the morph could let me, diving deep and then rising to breath.  I did not see or hear any sign of the ships that held Yeerks, but it was still early.  They would be out soon.

I had to demorph once, and I did so quickly, even if it did tire me.  The ocean was too open, too unsafe, and I was still terrified of sharks.  (I bitterly wished I had never seen that stupid movie!)  However, within forty minutes after I that, I saw it, the beautiful Dome.  The internal light in it made it all visible, and it was like the opposite of a human snow globe.  A dome of air surrounded by water.

My heart panged at the sight of the plants, the piece of my home.  Nostalgia set it slightly as I looked at the familiar trees and waterways and grass.  Oh, to taste the grasses of my home and not this bland Earth grass. 

I circled the Dome, examining it.  I was on my third circlet when I finally saw my brother.  He had come to the edge to examine me, curious about the seemingly inquisitive Earth creature circling the Dome.  My joy knew no bounds to actually see him alive!  He was well and whole.

‹Hello, Aximili,› I greeted, turning to face an eye at him.  I grinned to myself when he jumped.

‹Elfangor?› he asked carefully, hardly daring to believe.  ‹Is that you?›

I laughed a bit.  ‹Yes, though I admit I am a bit different from what when we last saw each other.›

He was about as elated as me, though he was trying to contain it to look like the distinctive _aristh_.  ‹I knew you would come for me, Elfangor!  You got my mirror-wave call, then?›

I nodded.  ‹Give me a few minutes to change morphs.  I will join you.  We have much to discuss.›

‹Yes.›

With a great turn, I beat to the surface, even breaching higher than whales probably did in my glee.  Controlling myself, I demorphed.  For a few moments, I had to tread water and gather myself before I changed to the dolphin.  I was going to need a long rest before we set out. 

After taking a deep breath, I dove back down and made for the entrance hatch.  Pushing the button, the doors opened and I swam it, and then closed the door, only to wait in the cramp swimming quarters as the water was siphoned away.  Once it was half gone, I started to demorph, and my hooves thankfully appeared with their whole strength as the water trickled away below my knees.  Finally, damp and soggy and stinking of sea salt, I pressed the panel and entered.

Aximili was waiting for me, pleasure and relief upon his face.  ‹It is good to see you, brother.›

I nudged his blade with mine.  ‹You as well.  I thought you were dead.  If you hadn’t sent the signal, I would never have known.›

‹Then you’re not upset that I did it?› he asked tentatively.

I was confused as to why he would be worried about that, before I remembered High Command orders.  Mirror-calls were low-tech and anyone with the right technology could pick it up.  ‹No.  I am glad you did.  Come, let’s run.  You have no idea the blandness of Earth grass.  I’m starved.›

We ran together for a long time.  I told Aximili about what I had learned about the Yeerk presence on Earth.  Aximili was as disgusted as I at hearing Visser Three was present.  I did hesitate on telling him about the children, though.  I had broken a great law, and I did not want him to be disappointed in me.  No, I could tell him later.

‹We shall have to leave now.  The Yeerks are searching for the Dome,› I finally said.  ‹Even with primitive human means, they will find it soon.›  Suddenly I found a flaw in my rescue attempt.  ‹Do you have a morph of a sea creature?›  I would accept any sea creature, not just one from Earth.

Aximili stood proudly.  ‹I do.  There was a creature that swam close and I stunned it.  I thought I would need it to escape.›

I smiled.  ‹You thought correctly.›

‹It isn’t as grand as the one you were in, though.›

‹Yes, well, the whale has it flaws.  Let’s leave before the Yeerks arrive.›

We made our way to the exit, and I cast one last look at the park.  This would be the last view of home I would have in possibly years, and I tried to commit it to memory, to deeply draw the essence of the grass.

Together we entered the hatch, and, as water filled, I started to morph back to the dolphin.  Yet, watching Aximili, I couldn’t help but laugh at the cruel irony, and I admit I leapt from the enclosure once the door was open.

‹You had best have that morph under control, for it you attempt to ingest me, I will be most displeased,› I said as I circled back to face the shark that was my little brother.

‹What?› he asked, confused, as he swam closer, and I had to struggle to not flee.

‹Our forms are mortal enemies.  You are a shark of some species.  I am a dolphin.  Again, do not attempt to eat me.  I have already had my fill of sharks.›

He was confused and curious, but Aximili didn’t ask.  ‹Which way?›

I circled and thought.  ‹This way.  And I shall have to make trips to the surface.  Dolphins breathe air.›

We swam in silence.  I had to quell the urge to flee Aximili several times, as he kept a close tail on me.   Surfacing regularly, I was upset to find the ships that most likely held Yeerks were within a few miles.

‹You cannot stay so close to me, Aximili.  There are Yeerks on those ships.›

Aximili’s shark, not needing of the air I sought, had remained low.  ‹Yes, Elfangor; would they know we are in morph?› he asked, curious.

‹Sharks and dolphins do not swim too close together.  An average human, infested or otherwise, may not think anything of our proximity, but those specializing in marine life would note that there was, forgive the pun, something fishy about us.›

‹Pun?›

I gave a quiet laugh.  ‹Forgive me.  Earth language quirks.  A pun is merely a play on words, usually to some humorous outcome.›

‹And was what you said humorous?›

‹Unlikely,› I had to admit.  It was plebeian, at best.  ‹Earth humor usually eludes me.›

We had to demorph soon after that, and I made Aximili go first while I kept watch.  The ships were out of sight, and a blue Andalite swimming in the blue ocean with decent swells isn’t easy to see, but someone should stay prepared.  I helped my brother reach the surface so he could rest, then, once he was again in his aquatic form, refreshed my time as well. 

Finally, we reached shore and beached ourselves.  It was a secluded bit of beach and soon we were one of the most ridiculous things a human could see – two drenched Andalites with sand tangling in our fur and eyes.  My left stalk kept blinking to remove the grit.  Andalites don’t have tears like humans, just a naturally viscous fluid that secrets from under the eyelid. 

‹We made it,› I said needlessly.

‹Yes, Elfangor.  Now what do we do?› Aximili asked. 

‹There is a forest where I rest.  We’ll make for there and decide.  Come, it is several miles, and we shall have to avoid the humans.›

‹Couldn’t we morph?›

‹You don’t have a human form, and Earth animals are very timid.  Besides, I have had enough of morphing for the day.›

Aximili didn’t argue, and we quickly disappeared into the tree line.

 ****

‹So this is Earth,› Aximili said, looking around the forest.  He touched a tree and looked at it.  ‹Do the trees speak?›

‹I do not believe so, unfortunately.  At least, I have never heard them speak.  That particular tree is a Blue Oak.›

‹It is not very tall.›

‹Very few trees are.›

Aximili inclined the stalk looking at me to show he heard, but he made no other comment.  I could see he was tasting the grass.  We had made our run in silence.  I do not know why Aximili did, but I knew why I had.  I was going to have to tell him the truth, tell him about the children.  I was not looking forward to the conversation.

How Aximili reacted would tell me how most of the People would as well.  It was knowledge I wasn’t keen to learn.

So invested in my thoughts that Aximili noticed the sounds before me, the sudden silence of the forest.  ‹Elfangor, someone is coming!›  He was poised to fight.

I nearly swore.  One of the children, and I wagered Tobias.  I had wished to postpone it, a little longer.  ‹It is all right, Aximili.  He is a friend.›  And, even as I spoke, I could see Tobias through the line of trees.  When he saw me, he grinned and waved, quickened his pace.

‹You showed yourself –›

“Elfangor!  You’re back!  Oh, and is this your brother?  Umm, … Aximili, right?” Tobias hedged hopefully.  Aximili’s stalks rose in surprise and he looked at me almost with a touch of betrayal.

‹Yes, Tobias.  This is my brother, Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.  Aximili, this is my young friend, Tobias.›

“Hi,” Tobias said nervously.

Aximili stood there, eyes narrowed and speechless.

Tobias was uncomfortable.  “I thought … I thought I’d just stop by to see if you were back, you know.  We’re all worried, especially when Marco told us about the ships and stuff.”

‹His warning was helpful.›  I cast an eye at my brother.  ‹Perhaps I may spend some time with my brother, alone,› I said meaningfully, kindly. 

Tobias looked a bit hurt, but he quickly nodded.  “Oh, yeah, of course.  I’ll just go tell everyone.  And I’m sure they’ll all want to meet you.  Elfangor’s told us a lot about you.”

Aximili kept looking at me.

“Yeah, I’ll just … leave.  Umm, bye.”

‹Good-bye.  And thank you for your concern.›

It wasn’t until Tobias left our sight that Aximili spoke.  ‹You showed yourself to humans?›

I sighed.  ‹The correct response would be I landed in front of them.  My ship was damaged and I set it to explode.  I couldn’t very well have stayed in there, nor allowed them to.›

‹But they could be Controllers!›

‹They most certainly aren’t.  I did extensive surveillance on them.  The children are … well, they are mere children.  Annoying and the like, but I am generally fond of them.›

‹But they are humans!›  He sounded scandalized.

‹Obviously.›

‹And you told them about me?›

I frowned.  Aximili made it sound as if I had sullied him by telling them of his existence.  ‹Yes, I did.  Generally, I am fond of you as well.  And I had to tell them why I was leaving.›

Because of my disapproving tone, Aximili was abashed at my admittance of familial love for him.  ‹But the risk –›

‹They know of the Yeerk invasion, all five of them.›  I took a deep breath.  ‹In fact, I lead them.›

‹You … you what?!›

‹I lead them in the fight against the Yeerks.›

‹But they’re humans!  What can they do?›

‹I gave them the Gift.  Four of them, anyway.›

Aximili stepped back as if I had stuck him.  ‹You … you broke _Seerow’s Kindess_?› he whispered, horrified, and looked at me as if he had never seen me before.

‹Yes.›

‹But why?!  The High Command, they’ll …. The Law!  How could you do that?!› he accused me. 

‹Because they have the right,› I said calmly.

‹They’re humans, Elfangor!›

‹This is their world, their people.  They should be allowed and able to defend it.›

‹Don’t you realize what you’ve done, Elfangor?  When the High Command finds out, when the People …. If they get taken!  You’ll be ruined!  For humans!›

I was surprised to see that Aximili was more concerned about me losing my status than me breaking the law, though that obviously was still a huge shock to him.  And I was gladdened.  If he was worried about _me_ and not the Law, it was a good knowledge.  ‹Yes, for humans.  And for the right thing.›

‹How can you say that?› Aximili demanded, stomping his hoof like a young child. ‹Everything you worked for --›

‹Everything I worked for has been to stop the Yeerks!› I interrupted firmly.  ‹Do you think I am going to let some idea of honor stop me from doing all I can to get rid of them?  Is my honor worth more than the galaxy?›

‹Against these creatures, these humans, _yes_.  They’re nothing but a primitive species!›

I frowned.  ‹Maybe,› I said coldly, ‹but it is _my_ decision to save this primitive species.  I _will not_ let the Yeerks have them, not while I breathe.›

‹What is so great about them?› Aximili asked, frustrated.  ‹They wage war on themselves, they destroy their world.  Their technology is laughable.  What is so great about them?›

‹Because if I sacrifice them, then I am no better than a Yeerk.›

‹That’s not true!›

‹It would be.›  I shook my head.  ‹Aximili, I do not expect you to accept my decision, but it was mine to make.  My responsibility.›

‹Your mistake,› he spat.

‹Yes, that as well.›

He was shaking in front of me.  ‹I can’t believe … excuse me, _my Prince_.›

And without waiting to be dismissed, Aximili disappeared into the trees.  I felt myself deflate and closed my main eyes, rubbed my temples.  ‹Well, that could have been worse,› I consoled to myself.  I really hoped I would have to order Aximili to not kill the children.

I doubted it would improve things between us.

 ****

It was a tense meeting between the children and Aximili.  My brother was acting everything like the young proud cadet he was, except worse.  Tall and poised, intimidating … for a child, anyway. I was actually amused. But it was another thing for the children, who probably couldn’t recognize how young Aximili was, how actually very humorous he was acting.  But, of course, I didn’t laugh, because Aximili was still extremely angry with me.  I had ordered him to be polite to the children.  While I disagreed with his method of being polite, I chose not to criticize it.  Not now.

I did hope humans grew on him quickly.  I couldn’t _order_ him to like them.  Well, I could, but it wouldn’t help.  It might make things worse.

After I made the introductions, everyone sort of stared in silence.  All of the children, even Marco, had come to meet my brother.  I had a feeling Aximili wasn’t endearing himself very well.

“Well, welcome to Earth,” Marco said in his grand fashion, once the silence got to be too much for him. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, Aximili,” Cassie added. 

Aximili made no polite response.  On the bright side, he made no impolite one. 

I stepped in case that decided to change.  ‹We require your assistance.›

“You do?”

‹We do?› Aximili mirrored, perhaps only to me.

‹Forgive my boldness in asking, but my brother requires a human morph.›

“You want him to acquire one of us?” Jake asked.

“No way!  At least, not Marco.  We can’t torture the world like that!” Rachel added, casting a sneaky glance at Marco.

“Two of me would be a blessing on all of the women in the world,” he said grandly.  “Choose me, for the sake of the ladies!”

Aximili looked a bit horrified, and I smiled at the young human’s theatrics.  ‹Even for such a sake, we will have to alter the plan.  Aximili would acquire each of you and create a new DNA sequence based on a combination each of you.  Remember, the _frolis maneuver_.›

Their eyes, except Marco’s, all widened with the memory.  Jake rubbed his neck.  “Hope Ax is better than any of us.  Except Cassie, that is,” he added, smiling as the female.  Cassie blushed.

‹Aximili is proficient in all aspects of morphing.  You are, of course, free to deny permission.›

“I’ll do it,” Tobias volunteered.

“Me too,” Rachel said.

“We all will.  Right?” Jake asked, looking around.  Cassie and Marco both nodded.  “Anything to help.”

“We gotta beat those slugs,” Rachel said.  “And we’ll need him.  You look like you could do serious damage.”

There was no doubt Rachel thought she was complimenting my brother, not making some subtle dig because of his age and inexperience.  Aximili looked completely shocked and unsure, unused to such unrestrained speech.  I smiled.  ‹Yes, he can.›  He gave a smile that could have overtaken his eyes if he was less self-possessed.  ‹If you will allow him …?›

They nodded and waited patiently, looking at Aximili.  He stared back, and then I remembered he wouldn’t recognize their consent, didn’t know what a nod meant.  ‹Go ahead, Aximili,› I said gently.

He still was unsure, but he took an uncertain step towards Jake.  And then another, before he placed a hand gently against the boy’s cheek.  Acquired each of them in turn, and then, stepping back, he cast a look at me.  I bent my head in agreement and he started to morph.

The children watched, spellbound, as his Andalite figure changed into human.  And then, Cassie said, “You know, maybe we should give him some privacy.”

I almost laughed at the notion.

“Is he going to be a boy or a girl?” Marco wondered.

“Let’s still turn our heads.”

Humans and their modesty, ever amusing.  As Aximili finished, I stepped over to my bag and withdrew the sheet I used to wrap my belongings.  If anything, Aximili might be cold.  Once he finished and stood awkwardly on his two legs, I draped the cloth over him, and Aximili looked at me curiously, not understanding.

‹Humans are strange,› I offered.  ‹And catch cold easily.  Hold it closed.›

“A-h-ahh.  Ahhh.”  His eyes widened in surprise, possibly at his mouth.  I grinned, remembering those days.  Loren had called me a toddler.  And not in the good way, I suppose.

‹You may turn around, children.›

They did so, a bit eagerly, and looked at Aximili’s human form. 

To them, he must have looked strange.  To me, he even did, because with a simple glance I could see any of the children in him.  Aximili was directly between Rachel and Marco’s height, a medium male build.  His hair was brown, a mixture of Jake’s and Tobias’s, curling like Cassie’s, thick like Marco’s.  His eyes were brown, large like Cassie’s, thick brows like Jake and Tobias.  His skin was a light brown sugar, a blending of all of the children’s skin tone. 

What was most strange to them was the general appearance.  I understood the human perception of beauty, the differences that should be present between males and females.  With such a small DNA pool, with almost equal number of males and females, Aximili’s human form was nearly androgynous.  Though male, his face had feminine features, delicate human hands.  But, it would do.

“How do you look? Lookuh. LooKUH. KUH. How do you look around? Ound. Ow, ow, ownd behind?” he asked, twisting his head around.  The motion almost made him fall, and I quickly caught him as the children rushed forward. 

‹Careful, Aximili,› I said, smiling, even as I made the mental note to start the speech and balance lessons.

“He’s got my eyes.  They’re my best feature, aside from my hair,” Marco sniffed.  “He’s got Rachel’s butt though.  Jeez, it’s so huge.  AHH!”

I shook my head at their antics and ignored their playing.  If necessary, Jake and Cassie would step in. 

 ****

Part of me felt bad about what I was doing, but I didn’t let it hold me back.  I straightened my tie, hoped the suit didn’t look terrible, and knocked firmly on the door.  And then I knocked again. And again.

Eventually I heard movement from the inside and the door was opened.  I kept my face stern when the face of Marco’s father looked out, scruffy faced and raccoon-eyed.  My nose almost sneered at the faint unpleasant scent emanating from him.  “Mr. Peter ____?”

The human, upon seeing me and my very stern presence, looked nervous.  “Yes?  Can I help you?”

“My name is Henry Agincourt,” I stated, an entirely made up human to go with my new morph.  It wouldn’t do to use my regular human form with Marco’s father, as we might meet casually in some unforeseen manner.  “I’m here to speak to you about your son.”

“Marco?” Now Peter looked worried and scared.  “Has something happen?  Is he all right?”

“Your son is fine.  Please, may I come inside?”

For a moment, he was unsure, but he stepped aside and let me enter.  I did so carefully, taking extreme notice of the disarray and mess.  Marco did do his best, but entropy will always win out.  When I turned to look back at Peter, he was nervous and embarrassed, huddling in his worn bathrobe.  “…Um, sorry of the mess?  Can I, um, offer you a drink or something, Mr. Agincourt?”

I made it obvious in my glance at the empty beer cars.  “No, I am fine, thank you.  Please, let’s sit.”  I did so in the beaten chair, and Peter gingerly sat down across from me.

“What’s wrong with Marco?” he asked as I snapped open my briefcase, trying to fix his robe to perhaps cover up his lack of clothing.  Humans and their modesty.

“I am here to determine that.  Mr. ____, I work for Social Services.  We’ve received several _concerns_ about Marco’s well-being in your care.”

Peter looked as if he hadn’t understood the statement.  “W-what?”

“We aren’t taking any sides, but it is customary to check on these sorts of claims,” I said pretended to flip through a file marked with Marco’s name.  “For the good of the child.”

“Marco’s perfectly fine!”

“Yes, I’m sure.  Mr. ____, please sit down.  This is only a formality, I’m sure.  Please, if you could answer a few questions.”

He stood shaking before managing his seat back on the sofa, and I felt sorry for him and what I was going to put him through.  The human had fallen apart at the loss of his mate.  He obviously loved her a great deal.  However, I owed Marco.  He tried to help me even while he desperately tried to care for his father. 

It was a delicate plan, I knew.  A call to Social Services would show I didn’t work there, and there was a chance Marco’s father wouldn’t even be concerned at their appearance.  (Thankfully, that appeared to be a slim chance!)  But something had to get the human aware of what he was doing to his son.  If it took the risk of losing Marco to realize his son’s worth, it was a good plan. 

I just had to be careful.

I asked him about his simple vitals, as if this really was an inspection, before going to the meat.  “And are you currently employed?”

“Ye … er, that is, I’ve got a job lined up.  I start in a few days.  I’ll be a night janitor at one of the buildings downtown.”

“I _see_.  And how long _have_ you been unemployed, Mr.  ____?”

“Not long,” he said quickly.  “I just got fired last month …”  He trailed off, as if realizing admitting he was fired was a poor choice.

“May I enquire as to the reason of your termination?”

His eyes darted for a moment.  “We had a difference of opinion.”

“I see.  And where was this?”

He gulped.  “… Delivery.  That is, I unloaded stock at a store.”

I nodded and dutifully managed to get the address of his previous employer, and the one before that.  “And how much do you drink?”

“Not that much!”

“How much is, _not that much_?” I asked, looking around the room again.

“Not much,” he repeated a bit shrilly.  “Just a can or two, I swear.”

“Have you ever struck your son?”

“NO!” He was on his feet again, outraged and pale at my accusation.

“I have to ask, Mr. ____.  Please, sit down.”

“I’ve _never_ hit Marco!” he repeated.  “Who told you that?”

“Mr. _____, please, sit down,” I repeated.  “And all of our concerns can be lodged anonymously.  Please, sit.  Thank you.”  I looked at the man with probably more kindness than my cover should have allowed. 

“I never hit my son,” he said again, as if repeating it made it truer, as if I would be more inclined to believe him. 

“Of course not.”  I paused and let him get his bearings.  “I assume you do go grocery shopping, as you can?”

“Marco does the shopping.  Is that bad?”

“No, of course not.  But does he have appropriate meals?”

“He has food.  I mean, he usually cooks too.  He’s a good cook,” he hedged and spoke quickly, trying to get away from a touchy point.  “Better than me, anyway.”

I gave a small smile.  “I’m sure he is.  I understand you are widowed.”

“Yes,” he said, and his demeanor changed, his voice.  “Yes.  My wife … she was lost at sea.  Nearly two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.  I lost my own wife, many years ago.  Car accident,” I made-up, because I needed a how that was believable.  “It was hard.”  And it had been.  It had been hard to remember how to be an Andalite, to realize what I had given up, left behind, lost.  Lost and gained.  My human family, my Andalite family.  It had been a confusing time.

“It still is,” Peter said quietly.

“Yes,” I agreed in a similar soft voice.  “And how did Marco take her death?”

“It was hard on him, of course.  How couldn’t it have been?  Eva was his mother.”

“Yes, forgive me.”  I was quiet and pretended to think.  “Mr. ____, may I be frank with you?”  At his agreement, I spoke in slow, measured steps.  “It is quite clear the concerns were exaggerated.  I have looked into Marco’s academic records, and there is little worry there.  He won’t be honor roll, but who really wants to be?  But I cannot ignore some of the other issues.”

“What other issues?” he demanded.

“Your wife’s sudden death was traumatic for you.  I understand that.  However, perhaps it might be Marco’s best interest if he lived with another relative.  Just for a little while.”

“You want to take my son away from me?!”

“No, of course not,” I soothed.  “You’re obviously trying to cope, and I’m sure Marco is as well.  But children, especially young men, need stability.”

“It’s stable!  It’s beyond stable!  Stable as a house.  With a stable, even! So stable we are a house!  In a house! Everything’s fine!”

My face hardened.  “Mr. _____, your wife has been dead two years.  I’ve got witnesses stating your actions, signs of neglect.  Marco needs someone to care for him, not the other way around.  He lost one parent.  He doesn’t need to see the other killing himself.”

“I’m not—”

“Aren’t you?” I demanded.  “You stay at home and drink, barely making enough to get by.  And it is not as if you could not get a better job.  You were a good programmer.  Instead, you chose to wallow in sorrow and shirk your parental responsibilities.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it?  Mr. ____, I have no desire to recommend Marco be removed from your care, but I will do it.”

“You can’t take my son away from me!  He’s all I have left!”

“Then act like it!  Get out of this neighborhood, where drugs are dealt on every corner.  Get a job that offers stability.  Get a therapist and work past your grief.  Because what you are doing now, you are not only destroying yourself, but your son.”

“I loved my wife,” he said, eyes damp.

“Of that, I have no doubt.  But I have to wonder if she would love what you have become.  You honor her memory very poorly.”  I snapped my briefcase shut and then dug into my jacket for a business card.  “I won’t say anything now, Mr. _____, but I will keep my eye on this.  If things do not improve, I will tell my superiors that, at this time, you are an unfit guardian for your son.  This is my number.  If your situation should change in any way, do not hesitate to call me.”

He took the card with a shaky hand.  “But how?  What can I do?”

“I would recommend getting a job that you do not plan on being fired from or losing.  Perhaps one of your old friends could assist you.  I understand a Mr. Jerry Richardson is looking for a programmer.”  I smiled at his surprise.  “I look _very_ thoroughly, Mr.  _____.  I would suggest, as a start, to call him.  No, actually, I would suggest taking a shower, cleaning up your home, going shopping, cooking a casserole, and then calling him.  It is a matter of priorities.”

Peter blinked at me expressionless eyes, and then he laughed.  “Yes, Mr. Agincourt, maybe it is.  And maybe mine need a little rearranging.”

I stood up.  “Forgive me, but I doubt your priorities ever changed.  They just got … forgotten.  I believe I’m done, for now.”

“I’ll show you out.”  He stood as well and led me to the door.  When I was out on the porch, he asked, “Mr. Agincourt?”

“Yes?” I asked, turning.

“Are you … are you going to talk to Marco?  About this?”  His fingers fiddled with my card.

“No, I don’t think so.”  Because I _really_ didn’t want to deal with Marco yelling at me.  I held out my hand.  “Take care of yourself, Mr.  ______.”

“You too.  And you’ll be hearing from me,” he promised as he gripped my hand tightly.

I grinned.  “I severely hope so.”

 ****

I left Aximili out in the street, possibly a poor choice, as I entered the Post Office and checked my mail.  I tended to bring him along when I went into the city, to let him get used to humans and their customs.  Of course, I did have to keep a strong eye on him, especially when we were around food.  Or not.  I’d had to slap the back of his head to get him to spit out the cigarette butts, and then, told him, in no uncertain terms, to _never touch them again, do not put them in your mouth, do you want to die of nicotine poisoning_.  Three butts had enough poison to kill a small human child, and Aximili had shoved quite a few more than that in his mouth. 

It did not help my argument when he pointed out that humans were smoking them.  “There are some things you _do not_ imitate humans on.”

I opened the box and took out the small handful of envelopes before locking it up and quickly leaving the building.  (My worry with Aximili had reached my limits.)  He was standing in the sidewalk, twisting his head around desperately so he wouldn’t be snuck up upon.  I shook my head in amusement.  “You will give yourself a cramp if you keep that up,” I said, effectively sneaking up on him.  “Whoa, careful.” I quickly caught him before he could fall.

“T-th-thank  Ank you.  Ooo, Ellllfan—.”

“Just Al, remember,” I said.  “Come on.”  With an arm on his shoulder to help him balance, I led him down the sidewalk.

“D-did-id you get wh-whattt you neededed?”

“Yes.”  I showed him the stack of envelopes.  “I’ve got you a credit card, in case of emergencies.  That way you’ll have money.”

“To get f-food?” he asked gluttonously.

I grinned.  “Food, emergencies, they might mean the same thing.  Speaking of which, I’m hungry.  Are you?” I said, seeing a small deli across the street.

He agreed enthusiastically and I reminded him how to safely cross a human street, doing my best to withhold the temptation to say he had to hold my hand.  “You sit here and I’ll be right back.  And do not eat the napkins or from the salt shaker,” I said as I sat him at the outside table.

After making sure he was not going to somehow draw attention to himself, I went inside and placed an order for two large subs with everything, two small salads, two Cokes, two potato salads, two macaroni cheeses, and, as an afterthought, two strawberry cheesecakes.  It was a bit of a trick to balance everything on the tray and make it outside without losing anything, but it was almost worth it so see Aximili’s human face brighten.

“Easy, easy,” I said, and carefully handed out the food, keeping the desserts aside so they would remain desserts and not entrees. “Here, this is a salad, plain.”  I chose to not add to the catastrophe by adding dressing.  “This is called potato salad, and this is macaroni cheese.  This is called a supreme sub.  Basically, it has everything they can put on it, and some things they probably shouldn’t.  Now, you will eat this _calmly_ , or I will take it all away.  You _will_ chew. You _will not_ take my food. Understand?”

“Y-y-yes, Elllll.” He was salivating, eyes intent on the food.

“Start with the salad. Here.”  Best to start bland.  “And use a fork.  The one with the prongs.  Stab and into your mouth.  And _chew_ ,” I said, demonstrating with my potato salad.

Aximili tried, I have to admit that.  He really did.  But taste is very over-powering, and several patrons moved away from us.  I gave him a few reminders and scoldings, but I didn’t expect perfection.  Not yet.  Let him have some fun.  As I ate, I opened my mail.

There was a bank statement, telling me how much money I had stolen.  Several thousand dollars. Good.  I tucked it into my pocket.  One of the credit card statements, telling how much I had spent.  Under how much was in the bank.  Even better.  I made a note to pay it, and then the other one. 

Aximili was already on his macaroni cheese and potato salad, alternating and several times using his hands until I scolded him.  I was still chewing my potato salad and my sub, reading the fine print of several forms.  And then there was the official-looking envelope.  From the government.  Curious, I picked it up.

The IRS.

Do _not_ tell me they were getting me for back taxes, I thought, before I remembered the numerous forms I had sent out.  My eyes focused on the yellow envelope as if I could read through the paper.  If Aximili hadn’t been present, I would have ripped it open and devoured it right there.  Yet he was, even if he was more focused on his food.

I drew a deep breath before I very carefully started to open it, and then pulled it out.  I took another breath and then started to read.  Slowly, and carefully, I read.

I was beyond ecstatic to see that her address was in this city.  So ecstatic that I had to take another deep breath and control myself from yelling, from making a scene.  In this city!  She was here, so close.  I could see her, I could!  My wife. 

“El.  El, are you. Ooo all right. Ight?” 

My brother, his food depleting, had noticed me.  I quickly tucked the letter into my pocket.  “I’m fine.”  Then I looked at his face and sigh.  It was covered in food, as if he had eaten from a trough.  “Here, wipe your face.  And don’t eat the napkin.”

“Arre you going. Ing to eat that. At?” he asked, motioning to my macaroni cheese. 

“Here.”  I was too stunned to really eat, and all I wanted to do was run to the address on the form and bang on the door, see her with my own two human eyes.  But I couldn’t.  Not now, especially not with Aximili around.  But that was okay.  I just had to be patient.  I waited eighteen years.  What were a few more hours?

Not long, I had to tell myself.  Not long at all. 

Then I had to believe it.

“Here,” I said, trying to control my voice, and slid my food over, before turning to my dessert.  I needed such a thing, and, as I ate, I planned how I would avoid my brother and see my wife.

 ****

It was late.  Aximili was asleep, and I had very carefully snuck away, managed my escape.  And then I burst into the sky, flew smooth and fast into the air towards the address.  I must have made to the city in record time.  With my night predator eyes and silent flight, I examined the street signs, looked for the right one.  There.  And then I found it, followed the numbers up.  Part of me felt worried as I flew over into the rougher part of town, passed even Marco and Tobias lived, the conditions even worse.  The yards and the buildings were in disrepair. 

Yes, there was her house.  There, across from a grocery store in great disorder.  The home had peeling paint on the grey boards, hardly any yawn, weeds on either side of the building.  How could she live here?  How could she demean herself? 

She must not have been home.  The lights were off, and I didn’t hear any movement.  Of course, it was late.  Maybe she was asleep.  Yes, that was probably it.  I looked around and, desperately curious, flew around the house to look for the bedroom window.  But no, there were all covered with curtains, windows closed with screens so I could not even sneak in.

I tried to control my disappointment as I landed in the tree, an elm.  I focused my eyes on the building.  She was so close, and yet, beyond my reach.  It seemed about right, given my life.

Even still, I didn’t leave. If this was as close as I could get to her, I didn’t want to flee, not yet, not so soon.  Just a little longer.  Being only a few hundred yards away was nearly as painful as thousands of light-years, perhaps even more, but it was also better. So I stayed, imagined how Loren must have changed these years, even though I really couldn’t.  I had a dismal understanding human aging, the subtle things one’s appearance went through as the years went by.  But I tried, even if all I really did was remember how she had looked outside.  I stayed.

 It was a good thing.

My ears heard the footsteps, the clicking-click-click, and it shook me from my musings.  My predator eyes focused on the sound’s location, and I saw, there, a human walking a dog, turning the corner onto this street, coming this was.

It was a woman, and, even as I recognized her, I almost left my branch in shock as my intent eyes took in her face.  My Loren … her beautiful face.  Her once perfect eyes, one drooped.  Her ear, it was one.  Scars marred her face, her once beautiful hair coming in clumps around the old wounds.  No … what had happened to her?  What?

Was it my fault?  Had I done this?

And then, it wasn’t the worst, because I heard her speak, give the commands to the dog.  And I understood the harness, reaching into the dim memory.  My Loren, my wife, she was a _vecol_!  She was blind!

If I had been human, I would have been sick, would have retched for the cruelty, the unfairness of everything.  Not my Loren!  Why, what had happened?   In shock, I watched as she slowly entered her home, her fingers guiding, waited until she was inside, the locks sounding, before I could face no more, and I took to the air desperately, sloppily as emotion took me. 

It wasn’t long before I forced myself to land atop a tall building, nearly crashed, unable to keep my distance.  I demorphed and collapsed to the ground, bowing my head, covering my main eyes as if they had human tears, closing my stalks so I was surrounded in a personal darkness.

‹Oh, Loren,› I whispered.  ‹What has happened to you?  Was it because of me?  Why?›

To live without sight!  How could she manage such a fate?  What had she done to deserve such a thing?  To never see the sky? A tree?  A flower?  To never … how?  Why?

Why?

 ****


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings abound on all sides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 8

 “So, even though we now have _two_ Vissers on Earth, we’re going to go _nothing_?” Rachel demanded.

“Yeah, because you’re doing great with just the _one_ Visser,” Marco said sarcastically, lying against the bales of hay.  He had followed Jake to Cassie’s barn, possibly to torment his friend about the innocent romance blooming from all the manure around, for Jake sometimes helped Cassie with her chores.  Curious and perhaps too lazy to leave, he stayed while I delivered this delightful tidbit of information.

I gave him a Look, but Aximili scowled at the boy.  However, I spoke to Rachel.  ‹It is very unlikely either of the Vissers will be actually on Earth during this visit.  From what I’ve gathered, they’re meeting on the Blade Ship, and it is too much of a risk to board the ship.›  I smiled.  ‹However, I would give almost anything to see it.›

“Why?” Tobias asked, interested.

‹Two Vissers, in close quarters.  Especially Visser One and Three.›

“They hate each other?” Jake said.

‹ _Hate_ is too kind a word, as is _loath_.  Visser One started the infiltration on Earth.  It was how she got to her rank.  She found Earth and saw its potential for hosts.›

“Oooh, we should throw her a party,” Marco said.  “Some streamers and a banner and cake.” 

I ignored his sarcasm.  ‹She is a cunning and ruthless Yeerk and is even worse than _him_ , because she is subtle.›

“How many Vissers are there?” Cassie asked.

‹Too many,› I said, and there were a few quiet laughs.  ‹No one really knows, save the Yeerks themselves, but we believe there are about fifty Vissers and fifty sub-Vissers.  They report to the Council of Thirteen, the head of the Yeerk Empire, with the leader one of the thirteen.  No one knows, save the Controllers.›

Jake whistled.  “Wow.  That many?”

‹Yes, and it is politically cutthroat.  The Vissers and sub-Vissers constantly undermine each other, and sometimes will risk battles on the outcomes.  It has been one of our greatest advantages.›

“But couldn’t Visser Three just chop Visser One’s head off?” Rachel asked.  “If they hate each other so much?  He’s a little tail-happy.”

‹And risk his own position.  The Yeerks frown against such blatant advancement.›  I shook my head and petted one of the horses.  ‹But yes, she does have an inferior host, compared to Visser Three.  Actually, she has a human host, rumor being that she was one of the first to adopt the host.  Many upper-level Yeerks probably shall, unfortunately, since humans are so versatile.›

“That poor woman,” Cassie said.

‹Yes.  She has been a host for many years, according to intelligence.  I think … yes, I can remember the file.  This, I believe, is her current host, though it is just as likely she switched.›  I sent the image to them, the poor image that was the best our spies could do.  In case she did come to Earth, they could recognize her.  Humans recognize other humans. 

I didn’t notice, or at least understand, Marco’s reaction, nor Jake’s.  Perhaps I should have, but the horse was nudged me hard in the shoulder when I showed the slightest lapse in attention to it.  It probably wanted a sugar cube or carrot. 

‹In any case, things should be relaxed, for a little while.  Of course, then it shall be terrible, because Visser Three is a petulant child.  Tail-happy,› I smiled, amused at the term Rachel had dubbed.

“We’ll be ready,” Rachel promised and also grinned.

“Yeah.  And, about that.  I know Tom’s been spending a lot of time calling people on our phone.  I don’t know who they are yet, and Tom says _The Sharing_ is doing some do-gooder thing, except, you know, they probably aren’t,” Jake added, looking at Marco.  “It might not be anything, but I thought maybe we should check it out, to be sure.  I’ll get the numbers and stuff for you.”

‹Thank you.  We’ll see if it is worth investigating,› I said, looking at Aximili, who seemed to be sulking in the shadows.  ‹We’ll leave you, before your parents return.  Have a good day, all of you.›

 ****

Marco’s sudden appearance not fifteen minutes later shocked me, as well as his pronouncement.  “I want to join.  Give me the power.”

I stared at him, and Aximili looked rooted.  ‹What?› I asked.

“Give me the morphing ability.  I want to fight,” he repeated vehemently.

I cast him a curious look.  ‹What has brought about this change of heart?  What about your father?›

“Elfangor, I _have_ to do this!”

Indeed, the boy looked different.  Desperate.  There was a look in his eye, as if there was a newer passion fueling him, an emerging rage.  ‹Of course, Marco.  If that is what you wish.›

‹Elfangor, you can—› Aximili stopped when I glared at him.  But he was still glaring at Marco.

“I do.  Give it to me.  Please,” he added almost as an afterthought. 

I moved to the tree and withdrew the _Escafil device_ from the hollow portion, but I paused when I looked at him.  ‹Marco, if I may ask why.›

“It doesn’t matter, does it?”  His eyes were focused on the object in my hands with a frantic hunger.

‹No, but I would like to know.  You must trust me, Marco, as I trust you.›

Marco looked at me, judging me with his suspicious eyes, judging my words, my worth.  And then, he said, “It’s my mother.”

I continued to look at him, unsure of his meaning.

“That was my mom!  That Yeerk you showed us!  That was my mom!” He was yelling now, eyes getting damp.

‹Visser One?› Aximili said aloud, shocked.

“Yes, Visser One, whatever!  They took my mom!”

‹Marco …›

His fists were clenched.  “It’s their fault, everything!  The Yeerks ruined my life, my dad’s, my mom’s.  I’m going to get her back.  I’m going to free her!”

‹Marco,› I said as I came closer and set a hand on his shoulder, ‹there is no certainty there.  This is not like Tom.  Your mother, she is off-Earth almost always.  She is the host of a powerful Yeerk.›

“I _will_ free her!” he repeated desperately.

‹Can you even be certain that _was_ your mother, that this is not some blind, desperate hope?  The image I showed you was poor at best.›

He was appropriately insulted.  “I _know_ my mother, Elfangor.  I can recognize her!  And that was her!”

I could only look at him.  I couldn’t repeat my words.  It would be very unlikely his mother would ever be free, and not by any actions we would do.  But I could not deny him this right.  I merely held out the device, and he touched another side.  It was only a few moments, and when it was over, he relaxed, his shoulders slumped. 

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, ducking his head and surreptitiously wiping his eyes. 

‹You will have to get morphs.›

He nodded.  “Yeah.  Jake said … Jake’ll help me.  And Cassie.”  He looked at me.  “Don’t tell the others.  I don’t want them to know.  I mean, Jake already does, of course, but no one else.”

‹If you wish.›

Again Marco nodded.  “Yeah, I do.”  He straightened himself up.  “Well, you got me.  I’ve joined your insane mission to save the Universe.”

‹You were always part of it,› I smiled.

“Yeah, but _now_ Rachel can’t call me a coward.”

I laughed.  ‹Go train with Jake, Marco.›

When he left, I put the _Escafil Device_ back into its hole and buried it in the leaves.  Aximili was watching me.  ‹You shouldn’t have done that,› he said quietly.

‹It is his mother, Aximili.  Allegedly,› I added, because I still had my doubts about his certainty.

‹Yes, but the Law ….› He trailed off helplessly.  ‹We can’t save her.›

‹We don’t have to.  We merely have try.›

Aximili looked at me, desperately trying to understand.  ‹They’re children, Elfangor.  They have no training.  They don’t understand this War, what you’re risking.  They’re not worth it!›

‹Yes they are.›  The innocent are always worth the price in a war.  ‹And even if they aren’t, it is too late now.  What is done is done.›

He still didn’t understand or accept my actions, and again he disappeared into the forest.

 ****

I never liked hospitals, as an Andalite or as a human.  Andalite hospitals are obviously different than human, in the simple reason that we mostly have traveling physicians.  Doctors who make house calls, that’s how the humans say it.  Yes, we have buildings – more like areas, centers, not hospital buildings like humans, because how can anyone regain their health in such cramp structures – for our ill, but most of our physicians are not grounded to a single location.  Of course, most of my hospital experiences have been with doctors on ships, which probably have colored my view.  _Never_ cross a ship’s doctors, because they’re sadistic.  If you say even the most _innocent_ comment, they twist it up and confine you to the infirmary for their _tests_.  I mean, it wasn’t like I actually _meant_ it to Doctor Phlox when I said – but that’s not important.  All that matters is that he did not have a sense of humor.

At all. 

True, my experience in human hospitals was even less, though it was not without its unpleasantness.  It mostly centered on when I twisted my ankle and had to wear a brace for five weeks, and the time I got pneumonia and had to spend several weeks in their uncomfortable beds, and the numerous shots Loren had believed I’d needed.  Yet that had been enough to cement my dislike.  The staff was impersonal, the methods primitive – and _far_ more painful than necessary – and the rooms were too cramp.  I mean, when I had injured my ankle, they had wanted me to sit in a windowless room!  I was already in _pain_ , I couldn’t _walk_ , and they had wanted to add to my anguish. 

Ahem … I suppose I’m off topic.  The Yeerks managed to add one more reason to dislike hospitals.  You check in free, and you check out as a Controller.

 _And_ one of my children gets taken as a host.

I glared at the bound Controller, desperately ignoring the fact that it was Jake.  For now, his name was Temrash one-one-four.  Not Jake.

We were in a cave deep in the forests, just the two of us.  I had ordered Aximili to pretend to be Jake for the duration of these three days, and the others were helping him assimilate.  Perhaps I should have taken Jake’s place, as I was more familiar with human customs, but I didn’t, for two reasons.  The first was that my brother needed to learn how to blend in.  Though under less-than-ideal circumstances, this offered that.  The second was because Jake was my responsibility, so I had to watch him.  It was ultimately my fault he had been taken.

There was also a third reason.  It was because I’m me, the _Beast_.  Even now the Controller was looking at me with nothing short of terror, even with though he was generally confident. 

“Do you think you’ll get away with this?” he said, trying to sound brave.  “Your brother, pretending to be me?”

‹Pretending to be Jake,› I corrected.  ‹And, yes, I do.  How long can you go without sleep?  Maybe a little over twenty-four hours, maybe longer if you force it.  I can go over five Earth days, though by then I shall be extremely snappish.  But you won’t see me then, because in three days, you’ll be dead.›

I paced in front of him, keeping my main eyes focused while my stalks looked behind me, out of the cave’s opening.  ‹Do you think because your host can morph you’ll escape?   I can morph as well.  And I can knock you unconscious as you morph.  Do you know how painful, how dangerous it is to stop between forms for too long?  No, of course not, because Jake does not.

‹So make yourself comfortable, while you can.  I promise you, Yeerk, you won’t escape.  And even if you do, I will kill you.›

“You won’t kill this host,” he said, as if that was his ace in the hole.

I smiled meanly as I leaned forward so our faces were level, even though my hearts broke at the truth of what lengths I would go to keep our existence secret.  ‹Do you wish to test this certainty?›

 ****

It was a long three days.  Occasionally one of the other children would come to guard the Controller so I could eat and refresh myself, but I never went far or was gone for long.  Of course the children could manage to guard their friend for a few minutes, but I couldn’t chance it.  If they relaxed their guard for but a moment, he could escape, and then all would be lost. 

The Yeerk did not talk to me much, and when he did I ruthlessly reminded him of his present situation.  Perhaps it was cruel to remind the vermin that his death was imminent, that there was no hope, but I did not waste sympathy for those parasites.  I gave all to it to Jake and what he must endure. 

But I will admit that I did not feel complete clinical detachment.  I am a warrior.  When I kill, I make it swift, as painless as possible.  I do not, like some who merely _call_ themselves warriors, strike to bring suffering.  Though I did not sympathize with the Yeerk, I did wish his death could have been kinder.

Cassie sat with them, and I gave them privacy the two young humans probably wished, though I could still hear them.  I could hear Cassie speaking encouragements.  And, in my mind, I counted down the final minutes and seconds, until I knew seventy-two hours had passed.  When the Yeerk was no more and the human child was free.

I gave them several minutes before I stepped back into the cave.  Cassie’s arms were around Jake and he was holding her tightly, but they pulled apart when they noticed my presence.  “Hey,” Jake said in a gruff voice, quickly wiping his eyes.

‹It is good to have you back, Jake,› I said with a quiet voice and smile, but I didn’t advance.  He would choose when to approach another, he would have the control and choice.  Jake tried to smile.  ‹Cassie, take him home.  By now, Aximili should have Jake’s entire family believing he needs psychiatric help.›

That brought a grin to Jake’s face, however weak it was.  However, he asked Cassie to leave us alone for a moment.  She nodded and left without question, because that was the sort of person Cassie is, and I gave Jake a curious look, wondering at this private meeting.

“I … I wanted to thank you.  You know, for being here.”

My stalks raised in surprise.  ‹Of course I would have been here, Jake.  You are my responsibility.  And I would not have let you face this alone, even if you weren’t.›

“That’s not … I mean, still, thanks,” he stuttered, looking unsure.

‹You’re welcome.›

Jake looked like he was having trouble finding words.  “He used to be in Tom.”

It was a cruel coincidence.  ‹I am sorry.›

“I never … we never realized … the Yeerks are scared of you.”  He said it with a strange tone that I couldn’t understand or decipher.  It wasn’t awe or pleasure or fear or disgust, and it wasn’t all of them, or maybe it was.

‹I have fought them for twenty-one years.  Whatever he said to you, it is probably true, at least some of it,› I admitted, even without having to hear the tales. 

“No, it’s not … he knew he was going to die, when you were here, around.  He couldn’t even pretend to escape,” Jake said quickly.  “Thank you, for that.”

‹I am glad my infamy made your episode more bearable.›

He looked at me.  “Are they really true?  What you’ve done to the Yeerks?”

‹I am not a shining knight, Jake.  I have fought the Yeerks in all the ways I could.  I’ve done things I am ashamed of, things the People have no knowledge of.  I don’t know what he told you – of the numerous pools of helpless Yeerks, ones without hosts, I’ve shot down, the ground troops of destroyed from orbit, other things too gruesome to mention – but I have done them.  I _have_ earned their moniker for me.›

Jake was quiet, his serious face upon me.  I wasn’t afraid of his judgment, because nothing could be worse than my own, and I made peace with my actions long ago.  Or, if not peace, something similar to it.  “Tom didn’t want to be a Controller.  He liked a girl, and he followed her, and then he saw Visser Three.  He didn’t want to be one.”  Even though there was sorrow in his voice, pride was there as well.  It had been Jake’s worry, I knew, that Tom was a Collaborator. 

‹I’m glad.›

“Tom …. He wanted to protect me.  That Yeerk –”

‹I understand.›

Jake’s eyes were fierce.  “I have to tell Tom … I have to tell him to keep fighting, somehow.  He’s giving up.”

Hope.  Jake was asking to give his brother tangible hope.  ‹There are ways.›

He nodded at my tact approval, looking away.  And then he said quietly, “When the Yeerk died, I saw something.  This … thing with a giant red eye, like a machine or something.”

I cocked my head, unsure.  ‹I have never heard of such a thing.›

“Maybe it wasn’t real,” Jake said, “but it felt real.  I was scared.  And it looked _right at me_.”

‹There are many unknown and unexplained things in the universe,› I said uneasily, as a feeling shuddered through my body. I do not know the source, but it made me feel antsy.  ‹And beings may see strange things as they die, from random neurons firing.›

“So you think it wasn’t real?”

I didn’t know what to say, so I diverted him.  ‹I think … it is best for you to go home and relax.  Bubble baths are usually what one does, aren’t they?›

Jake looked at me as if I had gone mad.  “You’re saying I need to take a bubble bath?”

‹Yes.  With one of those squeaky ducks.  Or a boat.  You will feel better.›  I always had.

“Elfangor?”

‹Yes, Jake?›

He looked at me, then sighed.  “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

 ****

‹I trust that there won’t be any more elephants giving flights,› I said very darkly, glaring at Rachel.  She looked chagrinned and slightly worried.  Did she _think_ I wouldn’t have learned about it?

“You bet,” she promised with more bravado than she possessed.  It was something to admire about our Rachel.  It was also something to want to strangle her about.

“You know, he does do a narrowed eye-stalk thing,” Marco said conversationally, and then ducked behind Aximili.  My brother merely appeared annoyed and stepped aside, so, in case I needed a clear attack, he would not be in the way.  Marco ducked behind Jake and Cassie.  “You can’t kill me!  I have information!”

“Actually, he can kill you.  I know it too,” Tobias grinned.

Marco made a face.  “Some ally you are!”

‹I would not kill you, Marco.  It is an ineffective teaching method, ultimately getting rid of students, though the idea does have merits.›  I turned my blade to the side, to appear less threatening, then thought better of it.  Instead, I contemplated the edge thoughtfully.  ‹At least, I won’t kill you if you have useful information.  If it is not, that is another story.› I gave a smile.

“You know, I liked you better when you didn’t try to have a sense of humor,” Marco muttered.

“You’re just jealous that Al’s funnier than you,” Jake said.

“Ha!  I think you mean, he’s funnier than _you_.”

“That doesn’t take much,” Rachel grinned.

“Hey!  I’ve got a great sense of humor, don’t I?”

Cassie consoled him.  “Yes, Jake, you do.”

“She lies already to sooth your ego.”

‹Marco, Tobias, any time now,› I interrupted.  Aximili was focusing his eyes on each of them interchangeably, trying to understand the conversation, and I could see he was getting annoyed.

“Right.  Well, it’s a tale of initiative and courage and yes, brilliance.”

‹Marco.›

“We found a way into the Yeerk pool, we think,” Tobias said, jumping in.

“Through a dressing room in The Gap,” Marco continued, glaring and upset at being upstaged. 

I didn’t ask how they learned of this.  I didn’t _want_ to know.  I had theorized that the Pool spread under the Mall, but I had not made any active work to find entrances beyond simple observation and logic.  It was suicide to go down into the Pool.  We were outnumbered and outgunned.  Besides, the children and Aximili did not need to see the truth of Yeerk habits.

‹We can attack!› Aximili said quickly, and part of me winced.

‹No.›  My brother blinked in surprise. I repeated, ‹No, that is too dangerous.  We won’t go to the Pool, not until we are certain for success.›  I looked at the children and explained.  ‹Yeerk pools are like Yeerk cities.  They’re huge and the center of their lives, necessary for them as Andalites need meadows and humans, food.  The pools, you see, are enriched with Kandrona radiation, which a Yeerk must absorb to live.›

“Otherwise they starve,” Jake finished, slightly troubled at the memory that was still fresh in his mind.

‹Yes.›

“What is Kandrona radiation?” Cassie asked.  “Something like gamma?”

“Isn’t that how the Hulk became the Hulk?”

“From a gamma bomb,” Jake agreed.

‹He survived a gamma bomb?› Aximili asked, his curiosity overcoming his distrust of the humans.  ‹Who is this Hulk?›

I made a mental note to familiarize Aximili (and myself) with fictional comic book characters.  I had a feeling Marco and Jake were likely to bring them up numerous times.  ‹Kandrona radiation, or rays, come from the Yeerk sun, the source of their nutrients and power.›

“So they’re like Superman.”

‹Superman?› Aximili queered.

“Do you just read comic books?” Rachel demanded.

“Yes,” he said proudly.  Rachel rolled her eyes in disgust.

“But if it’s the rays of their sun, how do the Yeerks get them in the pools?” Tobias asked.

‹The Yeerks have a miniature version of their sun.  Andalite design, I am afraid to admit.›

The children sat up and demanded explanation.

‹Andalites first came across Yeerks in their natural state some thirty years ago.  Prince Seerow led the meeting.›

‹Elfangor,› Aximili hissed.

I ignored him.  While _Seerow’s Kindness_ had its points, the humans were involved and needed to know the truth.  And they were humans, and I did not think they would blame Andalites for their moment of kindness.  The children were young and idealistic, and such blame would not creep into their minds until they learned cynicism.  ‹The hosts for Yeerks at that time were limited to Gedds, very primitive.  Prince Seerow felt sorry for them, and he befriended them.  Unaware of their true nature, he shared technology and offered the Yeerks advancements, and was violently betrayed when the Yeerks attacked and stole everything, started their domination of the universe.  It was the start of everything.›

“Eh, those slugs,” Rachel sneered with disgust.

Cassie was equally bewildered.  “After everything the Andalites did for them?”

‹Yes, though, to be fair, I am sure the Yeerks did not believe we did enough.  In any case, the event has made the Andalite people feel responsible to fight the Yeerks, as well as being less willing to befriend other species.›

“But you did, er, do,” Tobias put it.

I gave a weak smile.  ‹I’m sure I shall have to face my reprimands, but I prefer to judge by merit, not species.  Unfortunately for all of you.›  I shook my head.  ‹Anyway, thank you for the knowledge about the entrance.  Good job, both of you.›

“Couldn’t we just get rid of the Kandrona?” Jake asked.

Rachel continued. “That sounds like their weakness.  Or would _that_ be in the Yeerk Pool?”  She sounded like she was upset I was against charging down there, tails flashing.  It was something Aximili seemed to share, but he was polite enough to at least not say it.  Though, still young and inexperienced, he hadn’t managed to not look it. 

‹It might, but it is not necessary.  It could be within fifteen miles, depending on the size.›

“Maybe we could like spy out the Pool?” Rachel suggested.

Marco laughed.  “That’s our Rachel.  Desperate to do things that will kill us, Xena?”

She ignored him.  “We’ve got bug morphs.”

‹Which see very little.  Anything with decent sight is too big to risk, and anything that offers surveillance of more than three inches off the ground is either too large or buzzes.  And Taxxons will devour anything that might be edible.  It is too risky.›

“We know all this information and you’re going to do _nothing_?” Rachel demanded.

‹I do not consider taking needless risks, nothing,› I said, growing impatient.  ‹Your plan seems to center around morphing a bug, getting down to the pool, conducting the mission with the poor eyes, avoiding Taxxons and feet, and keeping under the two-hour time limit.  As bugs.  It is a desperate plan, and I am hardly that desperate.  A better plan would be to morph known Controllers.›

“We can’t morph humans without their permission,” Cassie interjected.  “That’s not right.”

I wanted to ask her, why, but it wasn’t that important.  ‹As well as the risks inherent with such a method.  We could be questioned for Yeerk activities that we have no knowledge, and we might blow our cover.›

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Jake asked.  “I mean, there has to be.”

They were so impatient, all of them, even Aximili.  Desperate to _do_ something.  But that wasn’t war.  War _was_ long bouts of boredom with brief spurts of excitement. And, what was worse, both could kill the warrior, the boredom and the excitement. It was a terrible irony.  ‹And we will, but not now.›

 ****

I did go check out the dressing room at The Gap, which was distasteful for several reasons.  The first was that it required me to go to the mall.  The second, it required me to enter a clothing store.  Third, I had to worry about Yeerks.  The source of the greater distaste was not necessarily in that order.

It was easy to see how to open the entrance, only a few minutes observing the room.  There was only one wall it could have been, the one with the mirror, was the other two connected to the adjacent dressing rooms and the remaining was the door out.  Once upon a time, I used to read human mysteries, and I remembered the secrets of pushing in the center of the decorative wooden flowers or moving the candlestick.  In fact, I did open the passageway, but I quickly forced it shut and left soon after, just in case the Yeerks monitored everything.

It was rather disappointing that the Yeerks got their ideas from human novels.  Then again, Yeerks never were very creative.

I spent another quarter of an hour at the mall, stopping at the Radio Shack before patronizing the cookie shoppe.  (I decided to not play favorites with the treats and bought two of each.  Well, how else do you decide a favorite if you cannot have another sample to make sure?  Repetition is the key in science, after all.)

I nibbled on the cookies as I left the mall, holding my electronics and the large bag of cookies, somewhat wishing for a large glass of milk.  Out of the parking lot, my feet carried me past the site of my crash, and inexplicably curious, I ducked into the construction site when I was certain no one would see me. 

There was no overt sign that my ship had ever been here, only minor damage from its explosion.  The Yeerks had cleared away any larger proof of its landing.  I stood right at the center of explosion and felt a bit of pain at the loss of my beautiful ship.  True, it was a standard vessel, nothing I had altered or designed.  I haven’t the talent for such a thing.  While I would know what I wanted, I doubt I could make it happen in a practical manner. 

Turning in a circle, I could only think it was remarkable, in a horrible way, how humans could alter their world.  Twenty-one years ago this had been a beautiful – for Earth – forest.  Andalites didn’t clear away trees and forests like this.  It was almost tantamount to murder.  Yes, we did remove trees, but there were rituals and care.  We didn’t just strip the land.

And for what?  To leave skeleton structures of building that would never be.

Depressed at the loss of the forest, I dug for another cookie, and then looked at my feet as I carefully gauged exactly where the worst invention rested.  Fifty-eight steps and I was directly over it by fifty feet. Of course, I had not dug that.  I used the _Time Matrix_ to mold the world so there was the deep hole, and then I had rolled the orb and let it fall.  And then I spent several days filling the hole with a shovel.  My arms had been beyond sore, as Andalite arms aren’t made for such activities. No doubt Loren would have helped if I had asked, but I didn’t want to put her at risk with such knowledge.  It was enough that she knew it was within this area. 

It was so long ago, and yet, hardly at all.  I could remember the feel of the _Time Matrix_ , its glistening white surface.  Now I wondered how it worked, what mechanisms were under the smooth shell, though it wouldn’t have surprised me if it were solid all the way through.

There were no obvious stories about the creation of the _Time Matrix_.  Yes, the Ellimists had created it, but there were no actual facts, even if there were facts from stories about the process.  It had just come into being; the creation might have just been a plot device for the tale.  But it did exist, beyond the stories.  Did the Ellimists really create it, or one of their tormented believers?  Andalites certainly hadn’t.  And why had it been created, such a dangerous thing?

Only Ellimists knew.

I kicked the ground, which had hardly any grass, annoyed at such a thing being allowed into existence.  My life was defined by it, its secret and its use.  I hoped that it wasn’t somehow connected to the last being that controlled it.  Let the worms and bacteria at that depth have that honor.

I ate another cookie as I walked a circle around the buried object, still stuck in the past.  I wondered … I wondered if that universe we had created still existed, somewhere.  If those strange beings were still there, if they had aged.  Then I shuddered, because I remembered that Loren’s mother, while correct in some things, was a terrible fraud and not anything near the whole of the truth. 

I hoped that universe was gone.

How long would it lie here now?  It had been under the Earth Pyramids of Giza for thousands of years, and who knew how long before that.  How had it even come to Earth?   Had it crashed and buried itself before humans were even humans?  Had another alien species, desperate to be rid of it, tossed it onto this backwater planet?

Another mystery.  Another I was not interested in the answer.

Another cookie gone, I decided to leave the ghost yard.

It wasn’t long until I was it the outer edges of the forest.  By then, my bag of cookies was empty – and I still hadn’t decided a favorite, which meant more research was necessary – and I had to carry it, lest I litter.  A bit deeper, I found my duffle and quickly stripped and demorphed.  The clothing, garbage, and purchases in the bag, and I ran off to my claimed bit of forest, duffle over my shoulder.

I hid the duffle in the brush and then started to look for Aximili, curious as to what he was up to.  He had avoided me, and I assumed it was because he disagreed with my decision to not go to the Pool and was angry.  I knew he had spent some time with the other children, which pleased me.  Hopefully he would start to interact with them on a friendly manner.

He was probably out running, doing foolish things like tormenting cougars that attacked him.  He’d arrive soon enough.  I’d enjoy the free time I got and set upon my assigned task, even though it was a very long shot.  Perhaps it would please the children.

 ****

I should have suspected something when the children offered to take me to get food.  I should have, but I am not naturally a suspicious being.  And when Rachel spoke with her usual frankness, my reaction was all that could be expected: I nearly choked on my hamburger.

It was nearly a minute later before I cleared my throat, drinking the pop Cassie had quickly passed to me.  Burning throat and teary eyes, I thought that the human throat was very poorly designed before I croaked out, “I beg your pardon?”

“An Ellimist,” Rachel repeated.

“It’s t-truooo, Elfangor,” Aximili breathed, eyes wide.

Of course, I had no doubts about their honesty.  But I still couldn’t comprehend their words.  Yes, _I_ had met an Ellimist, but that was different, wasn’t it?  The _Time Matrix_ , creating universes, playing with time … that made sense.  That warranted an Ellimist’s attentions. But the children, Aximili, what could they have done to draw the attention of one of those meddlers?

The children must have grown worried at my continued speechlessness.  “We’re not lying, Elfangor.  He totally froze everything when we … when we were at Cassie’s,” Marco said.  (Another time, I might have noticed his pause, but not now.)

I took a very deep breath and said, “What did he want?”

“So you believe us?” Tobias questioned, relieved.

My face twisted.  “How does it go … _There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy_.  What did he say?”

“He wants to save Earth,” Jake said.

Marco snorted.  “No, he wants to make a private zoo.”

“He said he’d take us to a place like Earth where there was no Yeerk threat,” Cassie said softly.  “If we wanted.  Save our families.”

“And you’d believe him?” My voice must have been bitterer than I meant, because they looked at me in surprise.  I stood up from the park bench and paced.  “And what did you say?”

“We turned him down, of course,” Rachel said.

Part of me wanted to call them fools.  While I would never trust an Ellimist, I didn’t doubt this was a chance at their safety.  “Why?” I murmured to myself.

“Why didn’t we turn tail and run?”

I glared at her.  “Perhaps, but why did he appear to you?  Why did he offer it?”

“He said the Yeerks were going to win,” Cassie said, and her voice was quiet and almost scared.

“Yooou don’t think he wazz telling-ing the truth?” Aximili asked.

“Remember the stories – Ellimists _always_ tell the truth,” I sneered.  “From a certain point of view.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan.”  When my head snapped at him, Marco winced at my scowl.

“What else did he say?”

“He’s going to ask us again,” Jake said.   “See if we changed our minds.”

I shook my head and tried to think, and then suddenly wondered at the strange addition.  “Why were you with them?” I asked my brother.  “Why did he give the offer to you as well?”

Aximili looked frozen, like a proverbial deer in the headlights.  “I-I-I I don’t know.”

“He was with us,” Tobias suggested quickly.

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Jake agreed.

“Didn’t want him to feel left out,” Marco added.  “We’re a team, solidarity and crap like that.”

Frowning, I looked away from them and their reasoning.  “What should that matter to Ellimists?  Why wasn’t I included when my brother was?”  I could understand why I wasn’t, because my presence could pressure the children to continue the fight out of loyalty, but that did not explain Aximili’s.  Why should one Andalite be present and not the other, especially when the concern was to save humans?

“So what are we going to do?” Rachel demanded.

I looked back at them, all sitting at the table.  “What do you expect me to do?” I countered.  “If it is an Ellimist, none of us have any power against them.  They could destroy us with a blink of an eye.”  Shaking my head, I looked at them.  “And I’m not going to tell you to turn down the offer.”

“Would you?” Tobias asked.

It was a terrible question.  I had already accepted an Ellimist’s offer, and I, intellectually, knew it was the right decision, but, emotionally, it was also terribly wrong.  “Ellimists only give offers that are difficult to refuse.  Would I abandon Earth? No.  But that would not be a difficult choice for me to make.”

The children all looked at each other, nervous.  They had wanted a straight answer, like all children do, but I wouldn’t give them that.  That wasn’t my right.

 ****

‹SHOW YOURSELF!› I screamed to the sky.  ‹I know you’re there!  How _dare_ you!›

Of course, no one appeared.  It would be a strange world if Ellimists appeared when you demanded them instead of when they wished.

How _dare_ he force the children to make such a choice, to make himself known to them?  To ignore me, their commanding officer, such as I was?  To toy with them so?  It was not right or fair.  But, then again, Ellimists were never interested in what was fair, only in their own pleasures. 

YOU DO HAVE THE LOWEST OPINION OF US, AFTER ALL WE’VE DONE FOR YOU.

My stalks whirled foolishly, my tail poised even though it was pointless.  ‹Show yourself.›

There was laughter, and then universe shifted and he appeared as an Andalite.  Yet it was odd, not a modern Andalite.  Almost like an Andalite of earliest civilizations.  He was harder, his tail blade longer and sharper, fur more wild, muscles and hooves larger.  I frowned at the mockery.  It would be as if, had I been human, he appeared as a Neanderthal.  ‹Does this please you?›

I bristled.  ‹How dare you involve the human children, my brother?›

He smiled.  ‹You don’t think they deserve the choice?›

‹It is no choice.  Why have you involved them?›

‹You should be thankful I did.›  He gave me a strange look, like he knew something I did not, but then of course he did.  It was part of his description, omniscient.  Yet, for some inexplicable reason, something deep in me felt like it was the truest thing he could have said, as if they _had_ been in danger. But in Cassie’s barn, I could not fathom how.

‹Perhaps.  But why?  You wish to save Earth, save the humans?  Then tell me why you involved my brother.  He is not human.›

The Ellimist waved his tail in a dismissive gesture, and, I admit, the ripple of movement riveted me in a primal awe.  It was pure muscle, and no modern Andalte would ever overpower such a creature.  ‹He is part of them.  This is his battle.›

‹And it is not mine?› I demanded, partly insulted.

His smile was amused.  ‹Perhaps.  But you have done your service in this war.›

‹I’m not dead yet.›

‹But should you be?›

I narrowed my eyes, but I would not reply to something that very well might be true.  It gave me no pleasure to imagine the Trickster might have saved my life by allowing a butterfly to flap its wings.  ‹Leave the children be.  They don’t deserve your tricks.›

‹Whether or not you believe it, I am for them.  It is the other player that means them harm.›

‹Other pla –› I trailed off at the memory of our last meeting.

‹Yes, and already he is angered with your humans.›

I frowned at the added danger.  ‹Why?  What have they done?›

Again he waved his tail.  ‹They exist.  He doesn’t need more than that.  Do you know that your human children are trying to destroy the Kandrona?›

No, I didn’t know.  ‹Why are you telling me this?›

There, again, was his infernal smile.  And then, like Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat, he faded away until only his smiling eyes remained, mocking me, until they faded as well with an impertinent wink.

It would be difficult to determine which angered me more – the Ellimist, or the children who had obviously disobeyed my orders and tried to learn the secrets of the Kandrona in Cassie’s barn, contemplate dangerous missions that brought Ellimist attention to them.

 ****

‹So, the Kandrona?› I said very evenly, and almost instantly everyone was nervous and avoided my gaze.  Aximili, with four eyes, was doing it twice as hard as everyone else. ‹Did I or did I not tell you to not look for it?›

“You … you told not to go down into the Pool,” Marco said, a hesitant tone unlike himself. Hopeful.

I glared at him.  ‹Yes.  I wasn’t aware I had to tell you to _not_ continue the search.›

Suddenly, they all relaxed, and I was baffled as to why. 

“We had to do something,” Rachel said.

‹You are too over-eager to get yourselves killed,› I snapped.  ‹You know nothing about Kandrona rays, and Aximili knows little more.›  For a moment, my brother almost protested, but then stopped himself.  ‹I don’t even _want_ to know what you talked about.›

“No problem.  We’ll never say a word,” Marco promised, beaming. 

“Maybe you should just not say another word,” Jake muttered.

I glared at them.  ‹However, because you all have been so interested in the Kandrona, I constructed a very primitive detector of the radiation.›  As I spoke, I picked up a cardboard box and withdrew the electronic device.  I frowned and shook my stalks in disgust.  ‹Very primitive.› 

“So we could find the Kandrona with this?” Rachel said eagerly as I flicked it on, and the soft noise emanated, the meter pointing to the general direction of the source.

‹No,› my brother said quietly.  ‹The city is filled with the radiation.›

 I nodded.  ‹It would be able to pick up a source within five square blocks, but it could be in the Pool or on the ship.›  With a careless hand, I flicked it off.

“If it can’t work, why’d you make it?” Cassie asked.

‹All of you believed that finding the Kandrona would benefit, except none of you had a viable plan that wouldn’t put us in extreme danger.  While this is not much of a plan, it offers less of a risk at death.›

They all shifted nervously again.

“So we’re going to use it, find the general location, and _then_ spy?” Jake asked.

I shrugged.  ‹As I said, it isn’t much of a plan.›

“Better than ours,” Marco muttered.

Smiling kindly, I consoled, ‹You are young and impatient. Eventually you will learn that sometimes you must stop before you can start.›

They were awkward, and then, to my eyes, they were shocked.  Rachel had nearly rammed her fist into me.  I had to duck aside and she yelled when her fist met a tree.  ‹What are you doing?!› I demanded.

“Gah!  I am so sick of this!” she swore, gripping her fist. 

‹Wha--›

“The Ellimist.  He … he showed us the future,” Jake said.

“It wasn’t the good future, either,” Marco said. “Where I’m wealthy and women throw themselves at me.”

“They won.  They were everywhere,” Cassie whispered.  “It was awful.”

“I was a Controller.”

My eyes darted between them, shocked.  How … they had been taken even while I stood!  Of all the gall!

‹Maybe it was a trick,› Aximili suggested in a tone that said he didn’t really believe what he was suggesting.

‹What did you see?› I asked tonelessly, and then listened to their over-lapping words.  I hid my shudder at their retelling of how Visser Three – no, Visser _One_ had gloated about killing me, how he had devoured me alive in front of them. 

If that was in my future … well, at least I was prepared.  (A time frame for when it would possibly happen would have been nice, though.)  And I would face my death with honor.

“Should we accept?” Marco asked quietly, giving me a sidelong glance.

‹It is your choice,› I repeated. However, I felt uneasy, and not only because of my history with one.  I remembered the tales of the Ellimists, of their trickery.  True, none of their stories were especially interesting to me – Aximili preferred them, if I recall my parents’ messages correctly – but I heard them often enough to be wary.  There was always a trick, always an ambiguity.  Ellimists were like lawyers, full of misleading words and talents for creating loopholes.  (When I say lawyers, I mostly refer to my former college roommate, George Lawrence, though he always went by his surname.  I hadn’t liked the human at all, at least not until he stopped trying to trap me with his rhetoric, and he only stopped that after I dismantled every piece of electronic equipment he had in our shared quarters.  Even now, I recall he did me the greatest insult by claiming I couldn’t put lowly human electronics back together again.  After that, we got along splendidly, provided no one made us talk to each other for extended periods of time.)

With such knowledge in my mind, I felt I had to warn the children.  ‹But, don’t not base it upon what you saw.›  They were confused.  ‹Do not second-guess history.  Time … time is mobile, interlinking, the future unwritten, even if you see it.›

“You mean that won’t happen?” Tobias said.

‹I cannot say.› Honestly, I couldn’t, but I remembered an old tale about planning your life around a future event.  ‹But, you must ask yourself, _when_ was that future true?›

“Uh, you lost me there,” Marco said, raising his hand like he was in a classroom.  He wasn’t the only one.  Even Aximili looked confused.

This was too complicated to explain.  ‹Imagine … imagine I tell you that tomorrow you have oatmeal for breakfast,› I said slowly.  ‹Had I not told you, you certainly _would_ have had oatmeal.  But now you know that you will, or should.  So now you ask: do I have oatmeal, or do I have eggs?  Do I have oatmeal because I was told I did, or because I would have normally?›

The humans, at least, were still confused, even if there was slight touch of understanding.  I tried another analogy.  ‹You have an exam.  Your future self tells yourself that you failed it.  But he or she did not tell you _why_ you failed.  Did you not study?  Or did you?  Because you know you failed, do you not study and fail, creating a self-fulfilling prophesy, or so you study and risk success?

‹The future is malleable.  It hasn’t been written yet.  Or maybe it has.  The question you must ask is, do you want certain failure, or a chance of failure?›  I made a lop-sided smile.  ‹Perhaps a very large chance, but even still.›

‹ _The Tale of the Forest that Never Was_ ,› Aximili said suddenly with a slight smile.  I inclined my head, a bit embarrassed at being caught referencing of a tale for our young. 

“What’s that?” Tobias asked.

Aximili grinned a bit devilishly.  ‹It is an Andalite parable.  Mother used to say it was one of Elfangor’s favorites.›

It still is, but I didn’t say that.

Cassie was interested.  “What’s it about?”

‹It tells about a herd of Andalites who make their plans around a forest they plan on planting, because they are told they will never have a forest, except they are so worried about everything that it never is planted.  For over one-hundred years they model their lives as if there would be a forest – if a forest is planted, the meadows are gone, so they start not eating there in preparation, but their herd is foolish and over-feeds on the grass.  The suns won’t shine in certain areas because the shade the trees will provide, so they no longer plant delicate plants, even though the forest isn’t growing and the suns shine clearly.  They are very stupid Andalites.›

The children chuckled at Aximili’s summary.  “How’s it end?” Jake asked.

‹A visitor comes and listens to the herd’s woes, and he tells them the forest is too much work and they must fell it, except, of course, there is no forest to fell and the herd finally sees its folly.›  My brother rolled his stalk eyes.  ‹It is supposed to teach us the dangers of putting so much thought into things that would be and ending up not seeing what is.›

“You were such a geek as a child,” Marco said, looking at me with humorous disgust. “Never heard of Jack and his magic beans?”

“Hey, I think I liked their story,” Cassie protested.

‹In fact, Marco, I hadn’t.  And that tale is hardly _geeky_.  It is actually very humorous.›  Especially when Father told it.  I was almost positive he added bit that were never in the original story, because when Mother listened, the tale was always dramatically different and not nearly as funny.  (Though perhaps Mother had not thought those portions were appropriate for my age.)  When I was very young, I used to have trouble breathing during the especially good portions, and perhaps Father’s theatrics assisted in that.

“Andalite sense of humor,” he stage-whispered.  “Never very funny.”

For a moment, the mood was lighthearted, and then the children remembered the Ellimist’s offer. 

Part of me was gladdened they decided to turn it down, again, but another could not help but feel the most terrible guilt at influencing them, especially with a tale told to Andalite young so they would settle down and go to sleep.

 ****

There was a basic flaw in my plan, being that you can’t exactly walk unobtrusively down a street with a home-made Kandrona radiation detector.  While certainly smaller than what a human would have made, it was still large enough to draw attention from the average human, not to mention a Controller.  But, as it happened, I didn’t have to, because in the middle of the next night, Rachel flew and proudly proclaimed she knew where the Kandrona was.  Listening to her in Cassie’s barn, with all of the sleepy children, I had to agree that her logic made sense.  The EGS Tower was tall, able to send unobstructed signals over a large range, and near the center of the city. 

After destroying the Kandrona, a few days later I approached Rachel.  ‹When did you acquire a grizzly bear?›

Her eyes were wide, guilty.  “Umm, you know, a few days ago?”

‹Rachel, what are you hiding from me?  You have been jumpy.›  I did not say that all of the children, even Aximili, had been, but Rachel was the worst.

“I have?”  She tried to grin and pretend.

Unmoved, I stared at her.

“It’s …. It’s my Dad!”  She said it like a sudden epiphany.  “He wanted me to move in with him.  Out of state.”

I was surprised.  ‹I wasn’t aware.›

“Oh, it’s all right.  I’m not moving.  Got to still kick Yeerk butt, you know.  Save the planet.  Yeah,” she said in a fast voice, bright smile.

There was something else, but I wasn’t sure what.  ‹I am sorry you had to make such a choice.›

Rachel forced a shrug.  “It was no big.”

Of course she was lying, but I did not counter.  She knew the truth.

 ****

With the destruction of the Kandrona, there was the promise of things being slightly low-key.  It would take three weeks for another to arrive, and it would be very unlikely for the Yeerks to waste their energies and resources on grandiose plans when all of such things would be needed to keep their numbers steady. 

Hmmm.  It almost makes one wish the Yeerks would cause trouble.

As such, it promised to at least promise be a nice weekend.  Rachel, after much protesting, was to go to a gymnastics retreat.  The other children were to go to a party.  Except Marco.

Unfortunately.

“I mean, it’s obvious.  Darlene likes me.  There’s no other possible explanation.”

The poor child was obviously delusional.

‹Is that common among humans, to avoid the one you like?› Aximili asked.  I almost yelled at him for encouraging the boy.  However, I didn’t, because it was a polite conversation between the two, focusing on connecting the wires for the television and antenna.  Eventually my brother would become friendlier with them.  These past few days had certainly started that, though I’m not quite sure of the reason.  But it was enough that it was happening.

Yet, if Aximili did continue to try to learn about the human culture from Marco, I was going to have my work cut out when I tried to properly teach him.

“Not like. Like. I like you, Ax. But I don't like you. There's like, and then there's like, like,” Marco continued.

‹I am confused,› Ax said.

Honestly, I probably would have been too, if I hadn’t understood a little about Earth mating culture.    ‹I believe that is because Marco is probably also confused as to her true motives as well.› (Of course, there was the _slight_ chance Marco was correct.  However, I considered it a very slim slight chance.)

Marco shook his head.  “No, it’s completely obvious.  You just can’t see it, because you’re Andalites.  Earth girls, they’re like that.”

‹Contrary and confusing?›

“See, now you’re getting it.”

I paused, because such an argument might actually be a productive one.  Aximili was casting me an eye, and I subtly signaled him to not add to this nonsense with a very slight tail turn.  ‹Is there a reason you are complaining to us and not, say, your father?› I asked, untangling a knot in the wires.

Marco looked scandalized at such a suggestion, but he recovered.  “I think it would be a _great_ cultural experience if say, Ax, joined me in a sort of, how do you say –”

‹Party crashing spree,› I said and smirked at his shocked expression at my use of the Earth vernacular.  ‹Marco, you are not attempting to sneak into this party in some morph, are you?›

“I would _never_ even contemplate the idea.”

‹Then what are you contemplating?›

“I just thought Ax would like to go.”

‹I haven’t been invited either,› Aximili pointed out.

“I have it all figured out.  We can say you’re Jake’s cousin or something, and that you’re visiting and you just want to spend time with him.  And _I_ gallantly escort you to the party.”

‹And are promptly dismissed because Darlene doesn’t wish you present,› I said.

“I’m doing this for Ax, Elfangor.  Not for me.”

‹And yet you felt the need to complain about Darlene first.  Forgive me if it makes me find your motives suspicious.›  I shook my head at him.  ‹However, if Aximili wishes, I will not forbid him from attending.›

Aximili looked at me like I was the worst sort of traitor.  ‹I don’t wish it,› he said with extreme formality.

For just a second, Marco was panicked, and then he shrugged.  “Oh, well.  Thought you might like to, is all.  I mean, there’s a pool, and Darlene probably has _tons_ of food and soda.”

I quickly hid my smile as Aximili started to look a bit more interested.

“I mean, at her _last_ party, her parents ordered like thirty pizzas, and there was a cake and chips and cold cuts and everything.  But since you don’t want to go—”

‹Perhaps … I was a bit too hasty.  If my brother doesn’t mind my attendance …›

‹You may go and enjoy yourself,› I said.  ‹Any trouble that occurs I shall firmly blame upon Marco.›

“What, hey!”

‹Not that I am thinking you will get in any sort of trouble.  Go, have fun.  It will be a great experience, Aximili.›

I smiled to myself as they disappeared and started to finish the connections.  Pool parties were always fun.  And, turning on the television and grinning when it came to life with public broadcast, so could human entertainment.

‹Now, what do I need to get cable on this thing?› 

 ****

I had always wanted to see the mall destroyed, but preferably when I was not in it.  I had only gone to Radio Shack to purchase some needed supplies, but I had _possibly_ eaten a bit too many sugary treats – I was hungry! – and, since none of the others were around to witness me misuse the morphing ability in such a way, I made my way to the nearest clothing store.  Their dressing rooms had doors that went to the floor; the bathrooms did not. 

In the dressing room, at first I had barely noticed the noise until the roof started to be torn away and everyone started screaming.  (This part of the mall was two stories, and I was on the first.) 

I admit, I screamed as well, as I was nearly human again, and, half-dressed, I did start to escape, tripping on my pants.  On the ground I rolled and tried to pull and zip them up as everyone else round me tried to _run over_ me and _scream in a panic_.  It was _not_ very conducive to my concentration!  And such a position very possibly was made worse by seeing the giant swirling vortex of something destroying the mall directly over my head. 

“Oh … _botyeli_ ,” I gasped as the _thing_ apparently _looked_ at me.  I swear by my tail – even if I didn’t currently have one – that it did.  I twisted and tripped to my feet and tried to run, over the splintered wood in my bare feet.  I kept running, joining the mob of people also running and screaming. 

The mall continued being destroyed as I ran, destroyed in a _direct_ trail.  But that really wasn’t on my mind, because I was busy trying to escape in this very slow human form with perhaps the whole of the city in the mall, all screaming and yelling and with wood and clothing and equipment flying.  There was crying and screaming, people stampeding over each other.  Another time, I might have stopped to help, but I was pretty sure I was the one being chased.

Unfortunately, I tripped over something and went sprawling to the ground.  People continued trying to escape, kicking me, and I curled into a ball just for a second before I remembered I needed to get away more than the rest of the humans did.  But it was too late, because I saw the thing hovering directly over me. 

I was trapped, doomed.

And yet … the whirling dust mass wavered and suddenly dissipated. 

Chest heaving, I tried to think and calm down, but adrenaline was still in my blood and I must have remained stunned for several minutes.  Around me, humans were calming and milling in their hopeless, unsure ways.

Someone was then over me, next to me, shaking my shoulder.  “Sir, sir, are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?”

I turned my head to the security guard and tried to push myself up, but winced and fell back down.  And, looking at my feet, they were bleeding.  “Umm … could you direct me to the nearest shoe store, please?”

“You’re in shock, Sir.  Just remain calm; the ambulances are already on their way.  Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, sure, you could say that.  You weren’t just attacked by a … a dust monster.  Deep in my bones, I knew it was the Yeerks and I cursed myself.  It _was_ me who thought it’d be a good idea for the Yeerks to use resources during their Kandrona crisis.  What do the humans say? Ah, yes, be careful what you wish for, or you might just get it. 

Just get it, is right.

 ****

“You destroyed the mall?”  Marco said, laughing.  I almost regretted calling Darlene’s home to request all of their presence to speak about this.  “You are _so_ lucky Rachel is at camp, because she is going to _kil_ —”

“Marco,” I hissed from the sofa, picking off the bandages from my feet very slowly.  The human paramedics hadn’t let me leave without at least pretending they were doing something for my benefit.  “I highly suggest you. Silence. Yourself.”  How humans had _ever_ evolved with such fragile feet?

“I’m not sure she _is_ at camp,” Cassie said, looking at the TV.  “Jake, rewind it.”

“Brother, why I don’t you oooo demorph to heal. Eel?” Aximili asked me, concerned.

“I will, but it is not worth such an action for a minor pain.  I can survive this.”  He looked like he didn’t believe me.  “What do you see?”

Jake answered.  “It’s the news report.  There was another tornado –”

“Tornado, my tail,” I muttered.

“–on the highway.”

After the tape was rewound, Cassie leaned forward as the scene went by frame-by-frame.  “Look at that girl,” she said, tapping the screen. “Tall. Blond hair. Barefoot. Wearing a black leotard.”

Everyone understood what she was pointing out.  “It’s Rachel!” Tobias vocalized.

Cassie nodded.  “She must have just come out of a morph.  That’s her suit, and she’s barefoot.”

“I thought she was going to that camp,” I said.

“Hey, don’t you know what means?” Marco interrupted.  “First, it comes after you,” he said, pointing to me, “and then appears where Rachel was?  I think not!”  I agreed.

“It would be a huge coincidence,” Tobias voiced. 

“Do you know what it could have been, that thing that attacked you?” Jake asked.

I shook my head.  “No, but that doesn’t bother me.  I want to know how it _found_ me.  And then Rachel.  And why it isn’t finding us now.”

“Do you think she’s all right?” Cassie asked, as the rest of them realized that we didn’t know if Rachel was still safe.  If she had been attacked and had escaped, she would have come and told us.  But she hadn’t.  Not yet, anyway.

“I don’t know.  First we have to find out if she did go.” 

Almost instantly, Cassie was at the phone and checking, but it wasn’t anything we wanted to hear. 

“So she was attacked on the way?” Tobias asked.

I leaned back and thought, tried to think.  “No.  She’d have taken the bus.  It would have attacked that or the camp itself.  She was close to the city.  Her fastest morph would be …” I trailed off, hit by the thought, and the children answered.

“Her eagle.”

“The wolf?”

I waved my hand.  “No, no, no.  She morphed.  Recently.  No shoes.  I was finishing my morph.”

“Could _that_ please be a coincidence?” Marco asked.

Aximili was looking worried, eyes wide, and I knew it was because both of us had dwindling time limits.  Most likely his time remaining was even less than mine, and I had little more than an hour.  Aximili did not like to get his time too low.

“So it had you, why didn’t it take you?” Jake said.

I wanted to pace, but my feet were too injured to allowed that.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it got distracted.  Maybe … yes, the mall was attacked first, wasn’t it?”  Blank stares met me.  “The news report?”

Jake jerked and quickly rewound the tape.  “Ye….yeah, yeah, they’re saying …”

“Jake, we can hear,” Marco interrupted, and Jake blushed then glared.

“Y-you bel-believe it is actually. Lee morph-fing-ing that at-attracts its attention?  Tion.”

I nodded.

“So … what are you guys going to do?” Tobias asked.

Very carefully I started putting on my shoes.  “Split up.  If it’s attracted to morphing, we separate and morph at different times.  If we get far enough away, it will be fine.  Hopefully.”  I stood up, wincing.  “How much time do you have left, Aximili?”

“A-appro-pproximately twenty-seven percent.  But. But Elfan –”

I turned and looked at him.  “Get to the woods and demorph in … in twenty-five Earth minutes.”

“Where are you going?” Cassie asked.

“As far away as possible.”  I looked back at my brother.  “I’ll morph in twenty-six, from now.  Hopefully that will be enough.”

“You can barely walk,” Marco said.

“I’m not walking.  I’m temporarily borrowing Cassie’s father’s truck.”  When Cassie opened her mouth, I interrupted, “I won’t even put a scratch on it.  The rest of you, see if you can find Rachel.  No morphing unless absolutely necessary.”

I started hobbling away, and of course they followed me.  “And then what do we do?” Jake said.  “How can we fight the Yeerks if we can’t morph?”

“As Jake said, it’s a new Yeerk weapon,” Marco continued, not exactly quoting his friend.  “We’ve got to do something.”

“Yes, and we can start by not seeing if, once caught by that dust monster, it will follow the P.O.W. treatment guidelines set down by N.A.T.O. or if it will merely give an encore performance of the mall upon our forms,” I grunted in pain, finally managing to get to the truck.  Once the door was open and I was inside, and off my feet, there was the momentary relief, which was of course followed by the throbbing pain.  “Personally, given its actions thus far, I’d rather not find out.”

I _may_ get a little snippy when I am in pain, and I started looking for the keys.

“In the cup holder,” Cassie said.

“Thank you.” I started the car and leaned out the window.  “All of you, just be careful. I should get back within three hours, so we can reconvene then, at my forest.  Be sure to stop at home and eat supper, otherwise your parents will worry.  And you, twenty-two minutes,” I said to my brother before driving away.

 ****

I drove fast and a tad recklessly, but I had to get to the other side – or at least to a different side – of town as well as be close enough so I could return easily without morphing.  I was ten miles away from Cassie’s home, and I pulled into a side road

There was a bit of teeth-gritting as I left the truck and made my feet support my full weight, and then some very mild Andalite curses as I traipsed deeper into the woods.  I had five minutes to get out of sight of the road and away from Cassie’s father’s truck.  (I did promise I wouldn’t let a scratch fall on it.  A falling tree would probably cause, among other things, a scratch.)

At my prescribed time, I threw the clothes and shoes off and started to slowly morph, leery.  There was no _actual_ proof that this thing was attracted by morphing.  I had merely based that off of coincidences, but, if it _was_ true, it was a better that the children didn’t morph.  Better safe than sorry. 

Yet, even though there was no physical proof, there was circumstantial, so I was worried.  I had to do it, though, because Aximili could be suffering its attention, being captured.  I was more terrified of my brother being taken than I was of being in danger personally.

For the first few changes, it was entirely possible that I had been wrong.  Nothing appeared.  But then there was a change, the twisting in the air, the whirling.

 _Okay, Elfangor, you got its attention.  Let’s speed up the morphing now_ , I thought as I went through the change faster and tried to run.    I regained by true form soon enough and took to my hooves, as it tore the forest canopy apart above me.

And then I realized a _slight_ oversight in my plan.  I had drawn the thing’s attention away from Aximili. 

There was no one to draw it away from _me_.

For the dimmest, barest of seconds, I contemplated turning and fighting, but then I remembered the mall, paid careful note to the destruction behind me, and tossed that idea aside in the _You Never Even Thought About Thinking To Do That_ pile. 

I dodged and weaved, working my hooves’ to their fullest, hoping that the trees – I do hope they forgive me – could offer some resistance.  But I was very much aware of myself and my predicament.  Andalites may be fast runners, evolved to a peak of perfection, but we did not run indefinitely. And I would have to go through the phases of Andalite running.  As a male, I was good on the quick start, but I would lose stamina on the middle ground, then would hit a stride on the long distance until I wearied. (Female Andalites were _very_ good on the quick start, but fell after the first burst to remain very steady for the rest of the run; their endurance was nothing an experienced male Andalite runner forgot about in a race.) Oh, I could run for a few hours, especially with such an incentive behind me, but I would tire and slow eventually.

And run out of places to run.  I couldn’t run into civilization, but I would eventually run out of wood, hit open meadows.  Plus, there was the additional problem that, if this dragged out too long, humans were guaranteed to become interested in this new long-lasting and all-destructive “tornado” and get helicopters or whatever they got with their news crews, and then I’d have to worry about dodging cameras as well as this thing if I didn’t want to end up on the eight o’clock news, and _that_ would just bring Yeerk attention to me, if it already wasn’t on me, and _then_ Visser Three would probably order a nice flat of grass and settle to watch, cheer the thing on.

… Or target me from space.  That was always another option he’d probably enjoy, given our history.  He’d probably miss a few times on purpose too, just for laughs. 

Having four eyes almost required me to keep an eye on the thing behind me, to see the damage and how much closer it was appearing.  But, so short in the run – not even forty-five minutes – it wavered and disappeared.  For a moment, I hesitated, doing the half-run young ones commonly do when they are uncertain, because was this a strange sort of trick?  My chest was heaving and I had slight perspiration. 

It did not reappear and I tried to relax, wondered why.  Had it lost interest after such a chase? 

Or had something else drawn its attention? 

No, I had told the children and Aximili not to morph … except Rachel.  It meant she was in danger.  Without a thought, I started to morph, slowly and with no intention of completing it, hoping to draw its attention back to me.  If Rachel was morphing, she didn’t know its danger, and probably wasn’t going into a fast morph.

I kept morphing, slowly, drawing it out until I had to reverse or risk becoming the _hoober_.  And still slowly I controlled it, growing very worried with nothing started to chase me.  Had it already gotten her? 

Whole again, after a full five minutes of drawn-out morphing, I started to run back to Cassie’s.  Something was happening, and I had to learn what.  Had Rachel, or someone else, been taken?  Was the thing merely distracted?

Or was it full from a successful hunt?

 ****

I had to take the most scenic tour back to my forest, keeping to the forests and making quick risks at roads and other places.  When I made it to the woods, I called for my brother.  He would be around, because in this hunt for Rachel, neither of us could help. 

In only took me a fifteen yells before I became concerned when Aximili did not respond back.  I mean, I didn’t expect him to be present on my arrival, and I didn’t expect him to materialize in front of me at the first call.  I could be practical.  But the more I called for him, the more the worry grew. 

He _should_ be safe, be here.  The creature, it should have been distracted by me.

But then, something distracted it from me.  I would have turned ghostly white if I had been human.  Aximili was always clever … he would have realized my mistake.  He didn’t … did he try to distract it as well?  He was younger than me, naturally slower.  Maybe he hadn’t escaped …

No!  No, I wouldn’t do this to myself.  I had to focus.  He might be fine, searching the forest elsewhere beyond my range of call.

… And, if he wasn’t, if he had been captured … if he was dead … I couldn’t do anything about that now.  I knew nothing about this creature.  I had to remain focused.  If only for the other children.  They were looking to me, and a Prince had to remain calm in the crisis, give orders, take care of the survivors.

I went to my area of the forest and waited, pacing back and forth.  The children would be arriving soon.

And arrive they did, in pairs.  Marco and Jake.  Cassie and Tobias.  Tobias asked the question before even I could, “Where’s Ax?”

I did stiffen.  ‹He did not tell you where he was going?›

The four children looked at each other, then me.  “No.  I mean, Cassie and I sort of stuck around to make sure he was all right when he demorphed, but he said he was going to run in the forest.  I thought he’d meet up with you or see if Rachel got lost.”

“You don’t think …” Cassie started.

‹My brother is a fine warrior.  None of you learned anything of Rachel?›

Jake shook his head.  “We went to where she was on TV and tried to see if she was still around, we would have gone wolf, but … well, we didn’t get anything.”

Cassie cast a look at Tobias.  “We might have learned something, but not about Rachel.  We went downtown, by the mall –”

“A total disaster area, and loaded with members of _The Sharing_ doing clean-up,” Tobias interrupted.

“Well, it is directly over the Yeerk pool,” Jake said.

“Anyway, Chapman was there, and he was there with a bunch of other people.  We tried to get close without getting caught, but this thing, it’s the Yeerks.”

“He was completely swearing about Visser Three’s new pet destroying everything.  I mean, it might be a good thing the mall got destroyed, since it caused so much damage.”

‹Did you overhear anything _about_ this creature?›

“It’s called a Vel-something.”  Cassie paused.  “And, we think they said morph-hunter.”  Another pause.  “You don’t think they have Rachel, do you?”

I looked intently at her, almost feeling her worry for her friend.  I did not want to lie.  ‹If they do, she is not infested,› I finally said.

It wasn’t an answer any wanted to hear.  Part of me felt defeated.

“We got to get rid of this thing, if we’re going to keep on fighting the Yeerks,” Jake said.

 _Thank you for the obvious_.  But I didn’t say that, because Marco interrupted, “Since Rachel isn’t here, I’ll speak for her and say, let’s kick this thing’s butt.  But how?”

 “Giant vacuum?” Tobias suggested after a very long moment.  We all looked at him and he turned defensive.  “Hey, it looked like dust to me.  Or a swarm of bugs that you always can’t avoid when you’re on your bike.”

“Giant can of Raid,” Marco grinned.

“Flyswatter,” Jake said.

“Can of Off-Repellent.”

‹All right, that is enough.›   Though part of me wanted to smile as well, because sometimes you desperately need something to take your mind off reality.  ‹It is late, nearly nine.  Your parents will worry.  I will see you to the edge of the wood.›

“At least it's warm out,” Cassie said as they started to walk. “If Rachel … or Ax,” she added, giving me a quick look, “is out there somewhere, it's a warm night. And there's a bright moon to help them find their ways home.”

We all looked up, almost instinctually.  It was a lovely moon.  Barren, but a nice feature in the sky. 

Until something started to obscure it.  The faint shimmering of dust.

“Look!” Marco exclaimed.

“What was it?  A cloud?” Cassie asked, far too hopefully.

‹What is that way?› I demanded.

“The city?”

I scowled at them.  I _knew_ that much.  What I didn’t know was what humans saw.

“There’s some new housing,” Tobias said, recognizing the look.  “They’re nice.”

“It’s after someone.  Ax, or Rachel,” Jake said.  “Should we try to distract it, again?”

“You want to play keep away, again?” Marco asked, then said, “We’re doing it, right?”

‹Yes.›

“We have to.  If those are houses that way, it’ll destroy them,” Cassie said.  “But we can’t just morph.  We’ll just attract it to my house.”

We were going to have to do something quickly.  While I could morph and run, I had no interest in a repeat of that method, not without a bit more thorough planning.  ‹Do any of you know how to drive?›

“No!  You can’t steal _another_ one of my parents’ cars!  My dad totally flipped out when he noticed it was missing.  He loves that truck!”

‹It’s perfectly fine!  And you do have neighbors.›

“I can drive!” Marco said, raising his hand and grinning.  “I scored like a million points on _Wipeout_.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it would make do.  ‹Very well.  Tobias, Jake, Cassie, start biking to the city.  He’ll pick you up.  Marco, up.› I quickly approached him.

“Whoa, what?”  He wasn’t the only one surprised.  The other children were wearing similiar faces.

‹On my back,› I said testily. 

“I don’t ride.  And I wouldn’t feel comfortable.  I don’t know you that well.”

‹Marco!  Up! This is not the time.›

“You’re too big! Way up there!  How am I –” 

“Here, we’ll help,” Cassie said, locking her hands to make a stir-up but stopped when I bent down.

‹Get on.›  Marco still looked unsure.  ‹Marco, you will be perfectly safe.  The rest of you, go.  We’ll be on the highway within three minutes.›

As the three took off, Marco hesitantly got on my back.  “You’re sure about this?”

‹I’ve got a bit of experience,› I said drolly and stood up.  He nearly screamed at the rocking motion.  Turning an eye on him, I said, ‹Now hold on tightly.›

He had barely managed to obey my order when I ran, and he did scream and clutch.  “I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die!”

‹Marco, do have a little faith in me.›

“And Cassie likes doing this?!  She’s insane.”

I ignored him and focused onto getting to Cassie’s neighbor.  It didn’t take very long, and I carefully looked around from the woods.  There!  The red pick-up truck.

“You want me to drive _that_?”  Marco sighed.  “Elfangor, I love you, man.”

‹Shhh.›  I slipped into the open, trotting as silently as possible.  Alongside the machine, I told Marco to dismount.

He looked down.  “Umm, yeah, about that –”

I bent my knees so he could slide off.  ‹Get in and drive to get the others.  I’m going to run ahead, morph and give it the distraction.  I would be much appreciative if someone would morph in, say, fifteen minutes.›

“Oh, this is so beautiful,” he said, ghosting his hand, opening the door, sliding inside, and relaxing.

‹Marco!›

He jumped.  “Yeah, yeah.  Key, keys.  Ahh!  Got ‘em.  Oh, baby, me and you.  Oh, yeah, listen to that purr.”

‹Go, Marco.›

I turned and ran, but then quickly stopped at the crash of a tipped over trash receptacle.  “Just accidentally put it in reverse!  I’m okay!  Kay, got it, bye!”  And he – dangerously swerving – left and got onto the road.

‹Elfangor, you might have put them in _more_ danger!› I muttered to myself.  But it was no time to worry, as I had to run.

It didn’t take me long to get to the trouble, or at least where I could hear it actually happening.  The mass of destruction and all told me the right direction, as well as the trumpeting of an elephant.  Rachel, then.  (Part of me did feel disappointed that is wasn’t Aximili.)  I shook my head.  Rachel was probably causing just as much damage as the creature.  It sounded like she was enjoying hitting garbage cans.

I couldn’t go down there, because it was too much civilization, too many human eyes.  So, I started to morph, rocking back and forth in the early stages.  And, unfortunately, it worked.

For the second time, I ran from this terrifying creature, back into the woods.  I just had to run for ten minutes, that would be easy enough, then it would turn to someone else.  I’d morph again in five minutes.

It was not any less terrifying a second time.  But I kept running.  It would have been a good plan, if I hadn’t hit the meadow.  Without the trees, it went even faster, possibly faster than me.  It was too open, nothing to divert the thing.  I couldn’t make it to the other side of the meadow, that was easy to calculate.  I had figure out how to double back.

But then I didn’t have to, because it wavered again and faded away.  I felt relief and laughed, for once thankful that humans couldn’t monitor time internally, for one of them had morphed four minutes early.    Even still, it meant I had to run back, to get back.  And then I had to remember to _not_ come this way when I was chased for a third time.

I was back to where I started when I needed to provide a distraction.  Yet, once again, I was not chased.  This was bad.  I kept trying to morph, desperate to be chased again, because the last time I wasn’t attacked, I lost Aximili.  Who would be this time?

‹Elfangor!›

I jumped to see Cassie overhead – or I assumed Cassie, for there were four owls.  ‹You’ve morphed?›

‹Yeah,› Jake said.

‹It got Marco,› Tobias said quietly.

I briefly closed my eyes.  ‹But we have found Rachel, haven’t we?›

‹Uh, yeah, I’m here.  I little worse for wear, I guess.›

I took a deep breath.  ‹You had best return home quickly and demorph.  We cannot be sure how long it will ignore morphing.  And tomorrow … tomorrow we’ll figure this out.  Hopefully.›

‹If my parents even let me out of the house.  I am so grounded,› Jake sighed.

‹We can call from my house.  Pretend we fell asleep or something,› Tobias suggested.  ‹Maybe that will help.›

‹If it doesn’t, we’ll worry tomorrow.  Home, all of you.›

‹You can stay with me, Rachel,› Cassie said as they flew off in different directions.

Once they were out of sight, I allowed my shoulders fall and feel utterly dejected, dropped my tail and started the slow trek home as well.  I failed, _again_.  Someone else taken by that vile creature.  I didn’t know how they could be rescued, if they could.  I didn’t know how to stop this creature. 

This creature had only been attacking us one day, and already two of us had been taken.  It would take each of us, in turn.  If it even had to.  Marco had been taken.  If he was still alive, he could be infested.  The children would be taken. (I knew, if Aximili had been taken, what he would do to avoid being infested.  What any honorable Andalite would do.  I could not think too long on it, because my failure would have led to his action.)

I made it to my bit of forest and gave the television a half-hearted kick.  I should watch the news, see what was commonly known, but I couldn’t, not now. So, instead, I started weaving the simple scoop cover from the branches and whatnot, trying not to think.  Even though there was little light, the ability was so ingrained in me – into _any_ Andalite, really – that I could have done it with my eyes closed.

‹Elfangor.›

I jumped and looked around.  ‹Aximili!› I called, desperately happy and trying to control it at least a little.  It wouldn’t do to show too much concern.

The bird landed sloppily and started to demorph.  ‹Yes.›

‹You escaped!›  I was grinning, even as I sounded calm.  ‹How?›

‹I morphed a flea, one that survived your flea powder treatment.  A very ineffective method, thankfully.  Marco and I then jumped from the ship.›

‹Marco, he is all right as well?›

‹Yes.›  He was almost whole.   ‹The creature, the Yeerks call it a Veleek.  It is Visser Three’s new pet.›

I then noticed that, even though my brother was morphing, there was no Veleek bent on his capture.  ‹It is not attacking us now,› I said, as one eye looked up at the night sky.

‹Yes.  It’s been doused with water.  That’s how the Yeerks control it.  It is made up of small insects from the planet called Saturn.  The Yeerks trained it to find morphing energy, but feed on the energy from their engines.›

‹Water.›  I mused on this.  Well, thankfully we were next to the ocean.  I didn’t think on this very long, because I noticed Aximili standing uncertain.  ‹Is there something else, Aximili?›

‹He knows you’re here,› he said quietly.  ‹When the Veleek was chasing you, he had it on the screen.›

 _To torment Aximili_ , I realized, because there was nothing worse than seeing your comrades being taken when you could do nothing.  ‹I trust that didn’t exactly please him,› I said with a lightness.

‹When you were being chased, he was quite gleeful.  He said something about tables being turned.  But when the Veleek changed targets, didn’t take you, he killed two Taxxons and a Hork-Bajir.›

‹Esplin never could take disappointment well.› 

‹I’m sorry.›  His tone was very quiet, ashamed.

I blinked.  ‹For what?›

‹I should have attacked him.  But I was … I was afraid.› He was avoiding meeting my gaze, ashamed with himself.

I had to speak carefully.  ‹Aximili, I would never expect you to attack Visser Three.›

‹Why?  Because you know I will fail?›  There was ire and disappointment in his tone.

‹No, that is certainly not why.›  Though I knew it was high odds that he would.  Prince Alloran is older, far more experienced.  Aximili is still a child.

‹Then because I am a child, a mere _aristh_.›

I gave a quiet laugh.  ‹I was once an _aristh_ , Aximili.›  I paused.  ‹And I was an _aristh_ when I first saw Visser Three.  I could have fought him then, but I did not.›  I did not think it necessary to mention I didn’t because Visser Three had chosen to return to a black hole than face me. 

‹I did not know you faced the _Abomination_ then,› he said, surprised.

Avoiding his gaze I said, ‹There is much you do not know about me.  But I am not disappointed in your actions.›

‹Why, then?›

It was difficult to explain.  How could I admit that I didn’t want my brother to face a suicide mission, but yet sound like I had faith in him, how I felt Visser Three was my responsibility, not his?  ‹Because I am … relieved you know when _not_ to fight.  I’ve fought alongside warriors, fought _briefly_ , who never learned that vital lesson.  There is no point risking your life when you could keep it and learn something.  There is no honor in taking your fighter, alone, against a platoon.  All you’ve done is made it so next time, when there would be a battle that matters, has a chance of be being a turning point, another warrior does not have someone watching his tail, another enemy he must deal with alone.›

Aximili was looking at me like he didn’t trust my words, but he was desperately trying.  He wanted to believe I was telling the truth, but his pride held him back.  ‹You think I would have died, then, if I had attacked.›

‹What do you think?›

He was quiet.  ‹I would have.›

‹As would I, or any Andalite.  Even if you could have gotten a blow, on a Yeerk ship, you would have been struck down before you could try again by those with him.›

‹Would you have attacked?›

I gave a little laugh.  ‹I think my situation would have been a bit different.  Visser Three would have shot me, several times, before I even realized where I was, then kicked and stabbed my dead body a few times for good measure.  Another Andalite, he would gloat.  Me, he merely wishes to kill.›

‹You would have struck.›

‹I would have tried.  My death would have been certain and immediate.  Yours, thankfully, was at least postponed.›  I touched my blade against his.  ‹Aximili, if you are unlucky, some day you will have enemies who will wish you dead more than they wish you suffering.  Then you will understand.  Though I would rather you make enemies less annoying than Visser Three.›

His eyes had a quick smile.  ‹You should not try to make me laugh.  Princes don’t do that with their _arisths_.›

‹I am your brother,› I countered, laughing.  ‹It is my job, one far more important than being your Prince.› 

Aximili tried being serious, but he gave a little laugh as well.  ‹It _was_ very humorous to see him after you escaped the Veleek.›

‹I’ll bet.›  Suddenly, I had a thought.  ‹He does not know you are my brother, does he?›

‹No, I do not believe so.  I didn’t tell him, anyway.›

‹Never admit it, to him.›  I hoped he wouldn’t take it as an insult.

Aximili was completely surprised at such a request. ‹Why not?›

‹I will not let him target you to bring harm to me.›  I could vividly imagine the torture Visser Three would subject Aximili to, just so I could imagine it, so he could taunt me with it.  ‹Forgive me for saying it this way, but you will be safer.  At least while I’m alive.›  I waved my tail.  ‹If I die, then you’ll get his attention little more than any other Andalite warrior despite being my brother.›

‹The Yeerk coward would go after family.›

I smiled, relieved he wasn’t offended.  To deny him the right to claim himself my brother, my family … it was a great insult, for an Andalite.  ‹Come, help me make this for the television and antenna.  You can pretend to be Mother and tell me how sloppy my weaving is.›

Aximili automatically looked down.  ‹It is rather bad.›

I hid my smile from him.  ‹Now pretend to be Father and tell me it’s perfect.›

He shook his stalks.  ‹Elfangor, it is bad.  Father only says that because he weaves even worse.›

‹Yes, he does.  It is the only thing that allows me to keep my tail up, knowing there is someone worse than me.›  I examined the weave blanket I had so far.

‹Not by much.›

 ****

The next morning, Cassie and Rachel made their way to us.  Apparently, while Jake’s parents weren’t pleased with his late arrival, they at least believed Tobias and his cover story, and only gave him a light punishment.  Something about a garage.  Marco apparently reported he wasn’t free until one o’clock.

Rachel seemed a bit leery of Aximili and myself, which in and of itself was interesting.  And then the reason.  ‹You had amnesia?›

“My memory’s coming back.  Cassie’s helping.”

“I thought maybe talking with you guys again might help a bit more,” Cassie said.  “And I’m glad you’re okay, Ax.”

‹As I am of you.›

“This is neat.  You guys make it?” Cassie asked.

‹Yes.  This is my half.  And this, this is my brother’s,›  Aximili pointed out with a slight smirk.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him humans wouldn’t quite notice the difference.

“Never figured you guys for arts and crafts,” Rachel said as they examined it.

‹It is an old Andalite practice.  They used to be made for scoops, before we developed plastics.  These days, our young learn it to make little play scoops,› I explained.  ‹Childish, but effective.›

“And I just used old cardboard boxes,” Rachel said.

“Hay bales.”

“Huh?  What about hay bales?” Tobias asked, coming up.

“What we made when we played when we were kids,” Cassie explained, “like for houses as stuff.”

“Oh.”

“What did you use?”

“Blankets, I think. Tucked them into things or taped them up, pretended I was camping or on adventures or stuff.”  His lips made a quick smile.  “Usually very _quiet_ ones.”

“So, what are you going to do about this windbag thing?” Rachel asked.

‹Aximili has informed me it can be controlled with water.  Otherwise, I have no direct plan.  We can think of something when Jake and Marco arrive.›

They nodded and settled around the area, and I took pity on them, turning on the television. 

“Does it get cable?” Rachel asked, after the initial shock passed for all of them.

I rolled my eyes.  ‹I did buy the materials.  But they are in the rubble that was the mall dressing room.›

“Wait, mall.  I think I like the mall.  I _do_ like the mall.  What happened to the mall?” Rachel demanded, looking at Cassie, Tobias, Aximili, and then me.

‹I’m going to go for a run,› I announced.

“Coward!” Tobias yelled.

 ****

I managed to spread my run so that when I returned, Rachel’s temper at my hand in the sacred mall’s destruction was settled on _Death Glare_.  Of course, I had spent the time trying to think of a viable plan to stop this Veleek, but the best I had was to make it rain constantly, which simply wasn’t possible.  The other ideas are too embarrassing to admit I thought, and would only prove I might have watched a few too many human cartoons.

It was half to one when I got back, and I was pleasantly surprised to see Jake and Marco had arrived.  ‹You’re early.›

“I worked fast.  Mostly just threw everything to the curb.  Dad’ll probably want to kill me.”

‹Yeerks _and_ your father.  You do live dangerously.›

There was a smile at the joke, then they turned serious.  “While you were gone, we thought of a plan,” he said.

‹I do hope it’s better than any I thought of.›

Cassie stepped in.  “It couldn’t lift Rachel when she was an elephant.  She was too heavy.”

“Like normal,” Marco said.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!”

I frowned.  ‹You didn’t tell me this.›

“We didn’t?”

‹No.›  That could have been some helpful information during the plan-making.  I wasn’t sure what sort of ideas it would have thought of, but now I would never know.  I rubbed my temple.  ‹What did you think of?›

“I want to do it, though.”

I frowned at Cassie.  ‹No.›

“You don’t even know what it is!”

‹Which is why I am not giving my permission, until I hear it.  I’m not a Prince on his first duty.  So,› I crossed my arms, ‹you can either tell me it and risk me denying you, or you don’t tell me and I think of possibly a worse plan.›

She bit her lip but made the choice I knew she would.  Because she was Cassie.

‹No.›

“But …”

‹Because it is a waste of time,› I continued.  ‹I already have a whale morph.  It is pointless for you to acquire one as well.  It is also a waste of time to try to _find_ a whale, as well as dangerous, because someone shall have to morph, and that will lead to the entire chase game again.›

She looked upset.  I made a note to speak with her, when this was all over. 

‹But, it is a good plan.  Better than making it rain all the time.› 

Marco snorted. “Maybe we could have moved to Seattle.  They have good coffee.”

 ****

I hoped I never had to do that again.  I did not like plummeting to my possible-death.  Sort of a phobia. I try to avoid it, if at all possible.

With the Veleek destroyed, morphing would become commonplace again.  Tobias was taking Aximili out for some food, to repurchase the necessary things so we could get cable or satellite.  Possibly buy a tape/DVD player. 

I chose, instead, to turn into my goshawk and speak with Cassie.

She was working in the barn, looking pensive as she shoveled hay and muck into a wheel barrel.  ‹Hello, Cassie.›

“Elfangor.”  Her tone was not quite right, rough and unpleasant.

‹I think we need to talk.›  I fluttered down to rest on an empty cage.  (It wouldn’t be right to scare the patients too much.)

“About what?”

‹Why you wanted to take this risk.›  I cocked my head, possibly looking like a cute pet.  Not that I was trying.  If it put her more at ease, that was just a bonus.

“It’s not important.”

‹Obviously it was.›

She was quiet, and I fiddled with my feathers.

“I let Marco get taken,” she finally said.

‹Pardon?›

“I could have morphed.  I could have drawn it to me.  But I didn’t, and I let it take him.”  She bounced the pitchfork.  “I was a coward.”

I bobbed a bit, though internally I was rolling my eyes.  Another _I-was-a-coward_ talk.  ‹Do you know, I had a similar conversation with my brother.  He thought he was a coward because he didn’t attack Visser Three when he was a prisoner.  Of course, he’s right.  I mean, to not do something when you may almost certainly die.  That’s the definition of coward.›

Cassie made a face at me.  “No!  No, you can’t say that.”

‹It is what you’re saying, though, isn’t it?›

For a moment, she might have noticed the parallel, but she quickly tossed it aside.  “No!  I let it take Marco!  I could have done something, but I didn’t!  _I am_ a coward.”

‹Yes.›

“You’re … you’re agreeing with me?”

‹At least, if you were me.  I’m an Andalite, a seasoned warrior.  If I allowed another to be taken while I could have done something, I would be a coward.  Or at least branded as one.   Someone who shows ignoble fear in the face of danger.›  I paused.  ‹Ignoble fear, Cassie.  Do you know what that means?›

“Not noble?”

‹Basically.  Because, you see, self-preservation is no longer a noble reason not to fight.  Not for me, anymore.›

Cassie frowned, looking at me.

‹I will die in this war, Cassie.  I have to.  Either I will die in it, or out-live it.  Any other option, it’ll be a disgrace.›  I stretched my wings.  ‹But that is just Andalite culture.  I’ve been told we have pretty silly ideas about honor.›

“Oh.  Ah, who?”

‹No one you know.  Cassie, self-preservation is a very, very strong force.›

“That doesn’t excuse me for –”

‹We all think, when the time comes, we’ll lay our lives down for those we care about.  That we’ll be brave.  That’ll we’ll do everything right and no one will get hurt.›  I gave a self-deprecating chuckle.  ‹Ellimists know I did. Grand dreams about how I would be if I could just fight, how great of a warrior I would be if I just had the chance. And do you know what I did after my very first battle, tail-to-tail?  It was against Hork-Bajir.  Oh, I didn’t run.  I attacked.  I strike down three of them.  Me, an _aristh_.  An _aristh_.›

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

‹I didn’t know what I was doing, not really.  I just attacked. Very well. Hork-Bajir blood covered the deck.  My friend looked terrified of me.  My Prince …› I trailed off.  ‹Anyway, I ran, when I realized what I had done.  I ran back into our ship, fell, and let some h … someone comfort me like they would a child.  Not for long, of course, I did have my pride.›

“So what are you trying to say?”

I laughed, a bit.  ‹Imagination has one great failing – it has no bearing on reality.  Even if you didn’t live up to how you would imagine, Cassie, you’re not a coward, no more than my brother is.›

“But I should have –”

‹Perhaps.  Cassie, whatever you do, it won’t change that the fact that you didn’t.  All you can do is try to do better.›

“How do I know if I can?” she whispered.

‹You never do.  Not at first.›  I looked at her.  ‹The problem is, this is the first time you failed to meet your expectations.  You have to face that before you can overcome it.›

“But I have!” she yelled.  Quiet Cassie, yelling, tears in her eyes.  “It’s all I can think about.  I let Marco –”

‹No, accept that you will choose your life over another’s,› I said gently.  ‹And there _is_ no shame in that.›  I paused.  ‹Have you spoken with Marco?›

“Yeah.  He says … he says he’s forgiven me.  But it’s not enough.”

‹It never is.› 

Cassie wiped her eyes.  “You know, if you came to cheer me up –”

‹I failed miserably.  I tend to do that.›  I fluttered up to another cage.  ‹War is a constant trial by fire.  Sometimes, you get burned.  But you do learn the truth about yourself.  Sometimes it isn’t pretty.  Sometimes it’s, excuse me, damn ugly.  Perhaps you should forgive me.›

“For what?”

‹Making you experience it.›  I prepared to fly while she made some response, but then stopped.  ‹Do you know what the worst sort of coward is, Cassie?›

Her voice was wary.  “No?”

‹The one who won’t admit he is one.› I fluttered up to the rafters.

“Elfangor?  Thanks.  I guess.”

 ****

For over two weeks I had followed her, painfully keeping my distance.  I had to, but the temptation was getting too strong.  Today I was going to speak with her, no matter what.  I had a plan.  It wasn’t brilliant, by any means.  But it would work.

I walked down the street, disgusted.  This is where my Loren had to live, because of me.  It was my fault.  Everything was.  However, it didn’t matter.  I was going to try and make it right, now.

Somehow.

I entered the convenience store.  I saw Loren already shopping, walking proudly with her guide.  My heart swelled.  Even with her disability, she was still strong, brave.  Perfect.

Going back in my memories, back to actions that could have been second nature, I strolled the aisles, starting with the ones furthest away, pretending to look for a snack and trying not to stare at her.

I “shopped” for fifteen minutes, looking at items.  Honestly, I truly wished to buy something.  Human food is beyond comparison.  I gathered a few items – candy bars, mostly.

Finally we were in the same aisle, and it was time to put my plan into motion.  I stood in the center, examining, of all things, greeting cards, picking out ones to read at random and keeping half an eye on the pair coming closer.  Then, when they were directly behind me, I took a step back and collided with them.

My brilliant plan.

Of course, my brilliant plan had neglected to put into account the dog.  I was supposed to merely bump and apologize.  Well, I did bump, but the dog jerked enough so that my knees buckled and I really did collide with them, falling over the yelping dog and to the ground with a yell, very painfully.  Loren had tripped into the shelves, dropping her basket.  Milk spilt.

“I’m so sorry!” I gasped, horrified.  “I wasn’t … I’m sorry.”

Loren smiled and felt for her dog.  “It’s all right.  Are you hurt?”

My cheeks burned as I said, “Yes, just my pride.  Here, let me get your stuff.”  I quickly got all of her items and stood awkwardly right in front of her.  “I really am sorry.”

She laughed.  “I’ve survived worse.”

I nodded.  Yes, she had.  When she held out her hand, I gave her the basket and said, “You’ll probably want to get a new carton of milk, since most of it’s on the floor.  It’s past due, anyway.”

“Well, this may be a blessing in disguise, then,” she said.

“Maybe.  Ummm … you look familiar.”  Phase two of my plan.  It didn’t seem very brilliant anymore.

“Maybe you’ve seen me before.  With Champ, I’m pretty hard to not notice.”  She patted the dog’s head.

“No.  I just moved back to the area.  I lived here about eighteen years ago.  My name’s Alan.  Al Fangor.”  I hoped for a glimmer, but there was nothing.

“Sorry.  Doesn’t ring any bells.  Believe me.  I wish it did.  My name’s Loren.”

“I knew a Loren once.  She played softball.  Tried to teach me once.  I was pretty hopeless.”  I smiled at the memory.  Hopeless hadn’t been the only word Loren had used.  “Eventually, though, I did manage to hit the ball with the bat, instead of miscellaneous body parts.”

“What happened to her?” There was definitely interest.  Maybe even hope.

 “We lost touch, my fault, not hers.  I had to leave.  I know she married, though he died, had a son.” Though I was being careful to make my tone careless, make it seem like I was more interested in messing with the shelves for a purchase, I watched her face, watched the subtle change.

“What was her son’s name?”

I pretended to try to remember.  “I think … it began with a T.  Give me a moment.  Tom … Tony … Travis … Trevor …”

“Tobias?” Her voice quavered.

“Yes, that was it,” I said.  “Nice name.”

“Yes,” she said quietly.  The dog whined, sensing her mood, and Loren scratched his ears absently.  “Did you know her well?”

“Absolutely.”  I gave a small laugh, deciding to come clean.  I could never lie very long to Loren.  “Honestly, I sort of … orchestrated this meeting.  I thought you looked like her, and well, if I just came up and you were her, let’s just say my Loren would have given me grief for not keeping in touch but eventually gotten over it.  But if you weren’t, since you aren’t, approaching total strangers like old friends is a bit awkward.  Like this has gotten.  So, again, I’m sorry,” I finished humbly.

“You planned bumping into me?” She sounded amused.

“Well, yes, but my brilliant plan didn’t include me causing as much mayhem as I did.”

She laughed at my defensive tone.  If anyone saw me, they probably would have laughed themselves silly at the look on my face.  I didn’t care.  I used to dream about Loren, her laugh and smile.  “Alan, Al Fangor,” – I melted when she said my name, even though I could clearly hear the human name, not the Andalite – “I believe I may have been mistaken.  Maybe I did know you.”

“Really?”  Even I winced at my over-eager tone.

She laughed again and we started walking.  “So you live around here?”

“Not exceptionally.  I’m looking into houses, currently,” I lied.

“You moved back and you don’t have a house?”

“My job transferred me unexpectedly,” I said quickly, not exactly lying.  “I’m staying at a hotel.”

“What do you do?”

“Computers.  And you?”  I wanted to move away from me.  If there was going to be conversations about me, I needed to make sure all the pieces would fit.

“I volunteer at the church a few blocks away, for the crisis center.”

I was impressed.  “Really?  That’s very nice of you, and you’re very good.”

“How do you know?  Have you called there?”

“What?  No, no!”  Of course, if I had thought about it, maybe I would have.  But that would have been wrong, tying up the phones for selfish reasons when there were humans who were trying to call and get help.  But I still would have.

“Easy, Alan. I’m just teasing.  I would have recognized your voice.”  She smiled and I saw her put a box of cereal in her basket. “But how do you know I’m good?”

I smiled and took the milk from her basket.  “When I first moved here before, I had a difficult time adjusting.  I wasn’t exactly a local.  My Loren helped me quite a lot, though I will admit, I drove her completely up the wall.  I’ll go get you a new jug of milk; I’ll be right back.”

I retrieved a fresh container, searching for the date furthest in the future.  Then I slipped it into her basket.  “Thank you,” she said, feeling the additional weight.  “Do you suppose we knew each other before?  You see, I was in an accident and …”  She faltered.

“Well,” I said slowly.  “If at worst, you aren’t, what have we lost?  I am no worse off.  In fact, perhaps I am better having met you.  I have not allowed myself to think of those years in a very long time.  Of course, perhaps meeting me isn’t exactly a good thing for you.  And if you are my Loren, hopefully we could renew our friendship.  In my case, it is a win-win.”

She smiled. “I’d have to say, for me, too.”

My grin would have split my face in two.  “Wonderful.”

Loren nudged my arm.  “Your brilliant plan worked, then, huh?”

“Was there any doubt?”

 ****

My brother and I stood by the stream, drinking.  There was still a slight bit of hostility from my brother.  It wasn’t from anger, mostly, but confusion.  Why, he must be thinking, did I want him to spend time with the humans?

Would it be wrong of me to say it was because I wanted Aximili to _stop_ following me like a, as the humans say, lost puppy?  Please, someone, just take him so I can have a few hours alone.  Anyone, that is, except the Yeerks.

My official answer was that Aximili had to learn about Earth _from the natives_.  He still seemed to think Earth was the ultimate death trap, was arrogant about the planet.  _That_ angered me, but I knew it was because I had a fondness for this world.  And I couldn’t expect him to understand the beauty of Earth.

So I had asked the children if they would take him around the city, just short of ordered Aximili, so I could have the afternoon without a little brother shadow.

Apparently, as the birds of prey descended, I had made a mistake.

‹What is the matter?› Aximili asked, mostly to me, but loud enough that the children could have heard.

‹What’s the matter?!› Marco screeched.  ‹What’s the matter!  I’ll tell—›

Thankfully, he crossed over the thought-barrier limit.  Marco hadn’t mastered the ability to screech in a way that was pleasing to my nerve-plexus.

‹What is wrong?› I sighed when their mouths appeared.  Aximili looked a cross between worried and angry.

“It’s what he did!” Marco exclaimed, pointing as the last of the feathers disappeared at Aximili.  Aximili’s head reared back, angry and, I saw, nervous, as his eyes quickly turned towards me.

‹What did he allegedly do?›

“He messed with my dad’s computer!”

I tilted my head, confused.  Aximili had reported what he had done yesterday, and he made much of mocking the computers.  I made vow to myself to never tell him of my involvement in the budding computer industry all those years go, in case he should decide the current level should reflect on me.

‹I just played the game, Elfangor,› Aximili said, defending himself.

“Game?!  What game?!” Marco yelled.

I was confused.  And then, I groaned and closed my main eyes.    ‹Aximili, what sort of game did you play?›

‹It was a primitive _Cayilli_ on signaling energy,› he said warily, but still defensive.  ‹There were many errors.›

For a minute, I stared.  Then I chuckled, laughed.  I couldn’t help it.  It was beyond hilarious.

“Ummm … Elfangor?” Rachel said, sounding like she thought I had lost my mind. 

‹I am fine.  I had forgotten what human computer programming looks like.  I should have warned my brother.›

‹You mean I … it wasn’t a game?› Aximili said, worry growing.

“No, it wasn’t!  It was my dad’s work!”

“His dad is going nuts over it,” Jake explained.  Aximili had a quick look of confusion at the term, and he probably would have asked how “delicious nuts” were involved if he had had time.

Unfortunately, Marco took over.  “Dad says you might have opened a whole new branch of computer software, as well as for astronomy.  He showed it the guys at the observatory and they’re going bananas over it!! They’re losing it, taking about Nobel prizes and papers and science stuff. My dad thinks you’re the next Einstein, even when I said you were a complete idiot!” he snapped to my brother.

“Marco,” Cassie scolded, and I frowned.  Aximili seemed to pale.

‹That _is_ enough, Marco.  Your father works at the Observatory, currently?›

Marco nodded.

‹What was the program used for?  Originally.›

“To aim a radio telescope or something, I don’t know,” he answered, flippant but frustrated.

I thought about this, then about what Aximili said he thought the “game” was about.  My eyes widened.  ‹Oh my.›

“What?” Tobias asked.

‹We could contact the homeworld.›  I was stunned at the realization.

Aximili gasped.  ‹I transferred technology?› he whispered, horrified.

“This is great!” Marco exclaimed, a great turn-around from his previous stance.  “You can tell the rest of the Andalites to get the butts here!”

The children all grinned at each other, while Aximili looked sick.

“Of course, the Yeerks will know an Andalite made the software,” Rachel added.

Yes, this I realized as well.  ‹It does them good to be correct a few times, I suppose,› I sighed.  ‹Return home.  We’ll take care of this.›

Soon, the children were gone, and Aximili whirled.  ‹I … I didn’t know, Elfangor!›  Instead of the _aristh_ he was trained to be, he sounded like the little brother, the young child he was.  Scared.

I smiled.  ‹Pay it no mind.  Some good will come of it.›

‹But I broke the law!›

I gave him a look.  ‹In comparison, I think I’m the one the High Command will be more upset with.›

Aximili looked surprised.  Obviously he had forgotten about my action in breaking _Seerow’s Kindness_ , probably because he was daily confronted with the fact and it lost its shock.  Then he looked ashamed.  ‹Oh … yes, I’m sorry.  I …›

‹As far as the High Command will know, you did not break the law,› I said.

‹Really?  You would hide this from them?›  He sounded amazed.  I do not know if it was at the idea of keeping something from the High Command or that it was me who would keep quiet.  I hoped it was the former.

‹What they don’t know won’t hurt them.›  _Or you_ , I added quietly.  _Or me_.  ‹Now, tell me what you did.›

 ****

The observatory was on the coast.  It wasn’t yet operational, but there were a few cars in the parking lot.

Aximili was silent.  Since yesterday, he had been quiet, no doubt silently panicking that he had broken the law.  If only he knew how often many of our laws are broken, but I would not tell him that.  It would only make him feel worse.

He followed me as we dove inside an empty office.  I started demorphing and Aximili did so as well.

‹Are you sure this is safe?› he asked.

‹No, of course not.  But I would rather be Andalite than human here, where Yeerks might be.›

We walked across the floor to the main observatory.  I heard Aximili slipping slightly, as he was unfamiliar with just how to step on these sorts of floors.

‹Keep a lookout,› I said needlessly, going over to the computer.  I quickly disabled the computer’s security.  In short order, I arranged the program to make the necessary requirements to send signal.  ‹There.›

I looked over at Aximili, who was standing nervous.  I gave him a small smile before I initiated the communication.  And when the sour-puss expression on the Andalite’s face appeared, it was almost a pleasing sensation.

‹Who is – _Prince Elfangor_?!›

I almost winced.  It is bad enough the Yeerks all know me, that I am some sort of idol to the civilians on my world.  I do not need fellow warriors being awed.  ‹Yes.  May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing?›

‹I am Ithileran-Halas-Corain, assistant to the Head of Planetary Communications, Prince Elfangor,› he said quickly.  As if he didn’t introduce himself fast enough I’d be upset. 

‹Yes.  As you are no doubt aware, I’m making this transmission in an unauthorized manner, so time is of the essence.  To report: the Dome ship _GalaxyTree_ has been destroyed.  There is only one _aristh_ and myself who have, to my knowledge, survived.  There is currently a Blade ship of Visser Three in orbit, several hundred, perhaps thousands of Yeerks, numerous bug fighters, and a variety of weapons.›

‹Earth is lost?› he asked.

I frowned.  ‹It will be if reinforcements are not sent immediately.  The whole reason the Dome was lost was because our information was negligent in the actual situation!›

‹Prince Elfangor –›

He was suddenly pushed aside and was replaced by the Head of the Council.  I stood straighter.  _Great_ , Lirem-Arrepoth-Terrouss, the most … no I cannot say it.  It is most impolite and shouldn’t be said by decent warriors.

Who am I kidding?  The old goat was a braggart, an arrogant, blind, idiotic, pompous, hypocritical, the most egotistical –

‹Greetings, Prince Elfangor.›

‹Sir,› I bowed.  ‹This is a honor.›   I crossed my fingers behind my back.  It was a stupid human custom that I did even when I returned to my true life.  It made me feel better when I lied.

‹I am sorry to hear of the lost of the ship –›

I interrupted.  Rude, yes, but I didn’t like the Head of the Council, and I had to speak.  ‹Sir, we have little time.  About the reinforcements.›  I heard Aximili draw a deep, startled breath.  Interrupting Head of the Council is not normally done.

‹How are you communicating with us?›

He was changing the subject.  Not good, especially since he was questioning superficial things when there were more important ones to be discussed.  It was like Lirem, what I understood of him from other warriors speaking.  He was, if anything, a master of redirection.  While it might be needed to calm the People, I did not appreciate it.  ‹Minor alternations to some unused human equipment.  Easily removed.›  It won’t be considered not breaking the Law if they were merely led to think we were using things humans didn’t have access to.  That is called _salvaging_ , which is perfectly acceptable, provided, of course, other species don’t get the salvaged bits.  That should save Aximili from any danger of being in trouble.  As for my own breaking of the law, I would merely admit to it later.  Now wasn’t the time.   ‹The reinforcements?›

His nostrils flared.  ‹I apologize, Prince Elfangor, but we have, as you are aware, limited resources.  We can’t --›

‹So you are proposing to give a billion hosts for the Yeerks?› I said with barely constrained anger.  ‹A planet filled with natural resources?  Yes, that _will_ help us win the war.›

Lirem narrowed his eyes.  ‹I understand this is a difficult situation for you, but our forces are spread thin.  Our reports --›

‹Didn’t even indicate there was a Blade ship in orbit!› I snapped.  ‹Let alone the Blade ship of Visser Three!›  Had we been warned there, I am certain we would have fared better.

He straightened.  I knew Lirem was not in the habit of being spoken to like this, though, honestly, I had the unfortunate habit to speak so when angered.  Blunt and to the point, yes, but there isn’t always time for politeness.  And Lirem, though he was old and a veteran of many battles, was not nearly as great as rumor would have it.  He was enlisted when my father had been, during the times of peace.  Yes, he fought the Yeerks, but hardly turned the tide. He had been an _advisor_. He used his scars to give the illusion of greatness, but now … now he was on the Council. 

That told me what he thought of being a warrior.  I could not even pretend to respect him.

‹Prince Elfangor, I believe you forget yourself.›

‹No sir, I know exactly who I am!  I am the one leading a band of children against Yeerks!  I am the one who organized the destruction of the ground-based Kandrona, dealt with three separate Yeerk ploys to gain access to important humans as well as a creature they engineered to find and capture anyone morphing – and if other Yeerks use such a creature, it is vulnerable to water – and am surviving—no, _hiding_ on a technology-defunct world waiting for help!  I am leading the only resistance to Yeerk in taking this planet, its people, its resources!›

‹These inhabitants of Earth are not Andalites.  It might hurt to see people taken.  I understand.  I was an advisor to the Hork-Bajir --›

It was out of my head before I could stop it.  ‹Yes, and the Yeerks certainly are benefiting from that!›  Aximili sucked in another deep breath, and I saw all of his eyes staring at me in shock.  I signaled him to look around, and he quickly regained his focus.

Lirem stepped back as if I struck him.

I didn’t apologize, and I didn’t give him time to tirade against me.  ‹The Hork-Bajir were the Yeerks’ best acquisition yet, their shock force!  And you want to _give_ them the humans?  Whose numbers are a million times more numerous?  Yes, humans are not as useful as Hork-Bajir in battle, but they can work controls, breed obnoxiously fast, and can live in more environments than many other species.  And you’re going to _advise_ \-- ›

‹Elfangor!  Someone is coming,› Aximili said quickly, and the thought echoed over the communication.

I looked the Head of the Council.  ‹Send help.› 

And I ended the transmission, ordered Aximili to leave, and quickly sent the spare virus to erase the entire system – cruel to the humans, yes, but hopefully they would blame the action on the new software – before rushing after Aximili back the way we back.  I shut the door and locked it even as I started to morph.  Aximili was already in up in the window, waiting.

Just as the door was unlocked we were gone, up in the air, flying away.

Aximili didn’t wait long.  ‹I can’t _believe_ you spoke that way to Lirem-Arrepoth-Terrouss!› he whispered.  Awe completely colored his voice.

‹It helps that we are over 50 light-years away,› I said.

‹But to the Head of the Council!  And the whole Council probably heard you!›

I laughed quietly.  ‹They are probably used to reports of my opinion, Aximili.  I admit though, I should have been in better control.›

‹Yes.  It was the Council!›

‹There is that, and the fact when they learn I gave the children the morphing ability, they will want to get back at me.›

‹They would use that as an excuse?›

I sighed at his naiveté.  ‹They are only mortals.›

We flew in silence.  ‹Do you think … will they send help?› he asked timidly.

‹Eventually.  But not soon enough.  But I won’t let the Yeerks take this world, not while I live.›

‹It is a nice world,› Aximili agreed carefully.  ‹Perhaps if the Council knew about Cinnabons, they would act quicker.›

‹Yes.  A most valuable resource,› I said in the ultimate deadpan, but I had to smile on the inside at my brother’s comment.  If the inhabitants of this world did not soften him, the food certainly would.

‹Indeed.›

There was the aura of hopeful silence between us.  Finally, I said serenely, ‹Perhaps we shall go to the mall today.›

‹I think we should.›

I smiled in my form.  ‹Come along, let’s not dawdle.›

Aximili suddenly appeared in front of me.  ‹Indeed.›

I laughed and focused, planning to show him how a true pilot flew.

****


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homes and Forests are Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 9

I kept my meeting with Loren a secret, even from my brother, even from my son, though Tobias of course did not know our true relationship.  I longed to tell him, but was unsure how to broach the subject.

I had to lead the group of children, of Animorphs, what they called themselves, though never in my presence and they probably thought me ignorant of the silly name.  My brother, Aximili, even after a month on (the surface of) Earth, still did not understand how I could have dared to give them the morphing ability, but he no longer questioned me about it.  I perhaps spoke too harshly to him.  I did not care.  I was not going to leave Earth defenseless, and despite the propaganda my brother believed, two Andalites were not going to make a very big difference.

Aximili, I think, resented my treatment of the human children, though the emotion seemed to slowly be lessening. Even still, I could tell he thought I was too open with them, too kind.  He no doubt was jealous, since I will not deny that I was not nearly so strict a Prince to the humans as I was to him, a true _aristh_.  It was not intentional, and he probably forgot that if we had been on a ship with other Andalites, I would not be giving him nearly so much leeway as I was now – I was letting myself be more a brother than a Prince to him.  Perhaps it was an unconscious desire on my part, but I saw no true reason to follow the bounds on decorum on Earth with my little brother, to not allow myself to know him. 

Still, while my treatment of my brother was favorable, there was an obvious difference in how I treated him as to how I treated the humans, especially of Tobias.  Yes, I admit it, I favored my son, though not as much as I would have liked.  Indeed, I doubt any casual observer would notice _that_ much of a difference in my actions to any of them.  However, Tobias liked me, visited me almost every day, and I welcomed it, took part in the casual conversations.  I knew his actions were to avoid returning to his home, to his uncle.  Perhaps my brother did not sharing my attentions, because Aximili’s resentment was tangible to me.   Part of me thought that I may have to tell him to truth so that he would, if not accept, understand. 

It was another conversation I was avoiding.

I hadn’t ignored one conversation, an idea I thought up because of my meeting with Loren.

“You’re going to buy a house?” Jake asked.  He had, by this time, become the unofficial leader of the human children, the one who would speak their concerns to me.   I did not think they needed him to act the capacity, but he did it and I would not remove him.

“How?” Marco added.

‹Human finances are easily created and obtained.  I have already accumulated approximately $945,000 in a savings account at the local bank,› I said dismissively.

This surprised them.  My brother merely looked unimpressed, ignorant of how money was usually obtained and the value of the amount I had accumulated in so short of a time.  He was not in favor of purchasing a house, though he would not question me in front of the humans.  It was a concept so alien to his Andalite mind that he might have thought me mad.

“Again, how?” Marco repeated, interested.

I looked speculatively at him, understanding the inner workings of this human’s mind.  ‹I have merely tapped into several companies that make many transactions, among other things.  Stocks, of course.›

“You want to make us an account?  For college, you know, in case we actually beat the Yeerks and everything.”

‹Yes,› I said dryly.  ‹For college.› I let the skepticism color my voice without restraint.

“Marco, I don’t think he’s buying it,” Jake smiled.

“Pity, though,” Rachel said speculatively.  “That’s like a full degree at some places.  Marco’d never have a chance getting in there.  None of them have majors in Video Games and Comic Books.”

“Why are you getting a house?” Tobias asked, very interested.

‹For all of you, of course,› Aximili said disdainfully.

‹Yes,› I said, giving him a small frown of disapproval as well as concern, for I wondered if he thought I was doing this so I would not be by him.  Perhaps I would have to look into this.  ‹Instead of meeting in Cassie’s barn or at public venues, this would offer a safe location to meet, discuss plans, practice morphs, and, as humans say, chill out.›

“Yeah, in a big, empty house,” Marco said sarcastically.  “What fun.”

‹Well, I had planned to purchase a full entertainment system and furniture for your use as well, but if you believe you would have more fun in an empty house, I do not mind.›  I smirked.

Cassie smiled.  “That’s very nice of you.”

“Nice?!” Marco countered.  “Elfangor, man, I love you.  Adopt me, please!”

‹I am sorry, Marco.  You are not what I am looking for in a son.›

‹Like Andalite,› Aximili muttered snidely so that only I could hear him, and part of me winced as I unconsciously looked at Tobias.

“Keep me on retainer, then!”

Rachel smacked him on the head.  “Shut up!”  She looked at me.  “So you’re just going to buy everything?  Do you even know how?”

‹Of course he does!› my brother defended. 

“She didn’t mean it like that, Aximili,” Cassie said calmly.  “It’s just that buying a house is very difficult and time-consuming.”

I nodded, remembering when Loren and I had bought our first, and only, house.  That had been a nightmare.

“Not to mention getting all of the furniture,” she continued.

“And no offense, but I doubt you have any sort of idea what humans put in their houses,” Rachel added.

Well, what I pick may be out-dated, but I was pretty sure I could manage.  However, I said, ‹I was hoping you would assist in choosing the furnishings and home.  My only requirement is that it be near the outskirts of town, as Cassie’s is.›

“We’d get to decorate your house?  Buy whatever?”

I smiled.  She was such a shopper, our Rachel. I would not deprive her of the fun, especially since I had considered prolonged shopping tantamount to Yeerk torture.  ‹Within reason.  We shall not need a trampoline or pool, despite what some may state.  And I will give final approval.›

“Deal!”

Marco snorted.  “Rachel’s in heaven, now.”

“I get this.  You’re making us do the dirty work, shopping,” Jake added, smirking.

‹My brother and I do have a two hour limit,› I said innocently.  ‹I have already determined three homes that I find satisfactory and have spoken with realtors.  I merely require all of your input,› I said, looking pointedly at Aximili with my main eyes.

“You don’t dawdle, do you?” Cassie whistled.

‹We may look at these locations at your convenience.  I must also purchase a vehicle.›

“You’re going to buy a car?” Jake gasped.

“Well, I insist on helping you pick out a car,” Marco volunteered enthusiastically.

‹Thank you, but I have already chosen two vehicles that will suffice.  I merely have to purchase them.›

“What’d you pick?” Jake asked over Marco’s disappointment.

‹There will be a minivan to transport all of us, and I have purchased a grey mustang as well.›  No sense waiting on that, in my opinion.

“You’re getting a MUSTANG?”

‹Yes, Marco.  A 1974 grey Mustang.  I … enjoyed driving it very much.› I would have tried to find a yellow one, similar to the one I drove on the Taxxon world and when I lived on Earth, but deemed it unwise.  Visser Three may recognize it.

“Elfangor, if I live long enough, please, please, please allow me to drive this car when I get my permit.  Hell, this weekend.  I’ve got – I mean, I’m great on this video game, you know.  Highest scorer,” Marco begged.

No.  Marco would not touch my Mustang.  Ever. I remembered his driving abilities – or lack thereof – when we had to deal with the Veleek.  And I wasn’t the only one.

“And you’re totally _not_ great in real life!” Tobias shuddered. 

“I got better!” Marco defended.

“Yeah right.  And you know that game?  Isn’t that the game where you’re supposed to chase, and you crash and burn and die?” Jake asked.  Marco scowled.  “Repeatedly?”

“We won’t have to worry about the Yeerks with Marco on the road,” Rachel pointed.  “Of course, I don’t know if he can reach the pedals.”

“Probably why he had so much trouble,” Cassie said pragmatically.

“Hey!” Marco protested while the rest snickered.

I smiled at the teasing.  ‹In any case,› I said, interrupting, ‹I wish to finalize the purchase by the end of the month, after the dreadful escrow,› and dreadful is merely the polite description, ‹and to have whatever building chosen to be completely furnished by the end of next.  It must look lived in, of course.›

“Won’t it be odd if they never see anyone going in and out of it on a regular basis?” Tobias asked.  “You’re not actually going to live there, I mean.  Are you?”

‹I will be present enough so questions will not be asked.  I shall concoct a reasonable profession and history.›

“But it will be a lot of money.  Monthly bills and everything,” Cassie said.

‹I will manage.›

 ****

It certainly started to be important to find a home, since the Yeerks decided to try to hunt us by logging the woods.  It was utterly disgraceful that they would do such a thing, ruin a beautiful forest.  But, then again, they are Yeerks, who have little sense of decency or morals.

I realized it was the Yeerks by, aside from the force fields and sentries and whatnot, the name – Dapsen.  Wasn’t quite as funny as before.

Aximili was worried, unsure of what to do.  They didn’t cover this sort of thing at the Academy.  Of course the Yeerks had to be stopped, but how?  I wasn’t sure just yet.

“It is a logging company,” I explained to the children as we sat in the park, before licking my ice cream cone.  Then I pressed the scoop back centered with my fingers.  It’d be nice if they could make a triple scoop that didn’t risk falling apart with each lick.

“But it’s a national forest!” Cassie exclaimed.

I didn’t understand why such a thing would matter, why it made some forests okay to chop down and others not. 

“So what do we do?” Jake asked, dribbling the ball and trying to keep it from Marco.

“We have to stop them!”

“Yeah, obviously,” Marco said.  “Oh, and he misses!  But how?”

I shrugged.  “But we have to do something soon.”

Aximili tried swallowing his large spoonful of ice cream.  I thought it better he get a blizzard, because there would be no doubt that if he had a cone and the scoop fell, he’d happily eat the dirt-covered lump.  “The force field doesn’t go to the ground-duh, but to the debris.  Something small could crawl under it.  An insect or similar. Ar.  There are insects in the building. Ing.”

I beamed at how much better Aximili’s speech was.  I had started to lay down the law, as it were, about playing with sounds.  I didn’t mind the odd time, but it had to stop so attention wouldn’t be drawn to us.  However, I didn’t like his suggestion.  It wasn’t because it was a poor one.  I didn’t want to try insects, because I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t do such small morphs.  My translator chip was too old.  Sometimes it would present no problem, but other times … it could be fatal.  Aximili wouldn’t have such a problem, because his chip was newer, over three times smaller than mine. 

It meant there were some forms I couldn’t join them in.  Though it had never been an issue before, now I wished I had gotten a newer chip.  I should have realized that just because I had never needed to morph such a small creature, eventually I might have had to.

“Perhaps we could even dig under the field.  Some small creature that’s not too tasty-looking.  And can see at night.”  I looked to Cassie.

She tried to think.  “There’s mice and moles and chipmunks, animals like that, but we’d have to worry about owls and stuff.  And I know a bunch of animals that can dig, like for insects and stuff, but I’m not sure if they could make a nice tunnel.  I mean, we’ve got skunks and stuff.”

“I’ve seen a skunk around.  I’ve avoided it,” I said wryly.

Aximili looked up.  “What is a skunk?  Is it dangerous? Us?”

“It’ll merely make you wish you were dead, if you bother it,” I said.

“Skunks are harmless,” Cassie said.

“Umm, hello, skunks?  The smelly things, right?”  Marco called. 

“They are!  They’re some of the friendliest animals around.”

“Oui, madoiselle.  Just ask Pepe Le Pew,” Tobias said in a fake French accent.

“I always thought he was sort of cute,” Rachel said, and it was possible she was joking.  She laughed after she said it.  “So skunks are all right.”

“Cute.  Yeah, that explains everything, why we can all love skunks,” Marco said.

“Cute excuses a lot with girls,” Jake said.  “I think you know it, otherwise you wouldn’t keep telling yourself you’re, oh so cute.  Two points!”

“Hey, dude, I _am_ cute.”

“Poor delusional midget,” Rachel sighed. 

I had finished my cone.  “In any case, Cassie, if you could perhaps look up any animal that could be useful.  I would rather have to use to use an insect, especially not one from a hive.”

“Why not?” Tobias asked.

“Hives have queens, and the queen has a large pull on the rest of the colony.  All of our other morphs have been autonomous, thus far.”  My hands were sticky, and I dug into my pocked for a napkin. 

“So?”

“It will be a different experience.”  I paused, wiping my hands slowly.  “For example, the Taxxons have a queen, or similar.  Or had one. I don’t know if it’s still around. They called it the Living Hive.”

“Then the Yeerks met it and they became BFFs,” Marco said.

“No.”

“I thought you said the Taxxons were Collaborators,” Rachel said.

“Most of them are.  But there are … were some that fought back.  A hopeless cause, worse than ours.  Anyway, the voice of the Living Hive, it was like planet spoke.  Huge, massive.  My head felt like it almost exploded.  And all it did was say hello, more or less.”

“You … you spoke with such a thing?  Ing?  When?” Aximili asked.

“I didn’t speak with it.  It spoke about me,” I corrected.  “And when … it was a very long time ago.  The point is, at one time, Taxxons were basically insects.  They evolved, and yet this giant Living Hive still could sound so loud in my head.  And I was not even a Taxxon.”

“If the Taxxons have such a thing, a queen, then how come they joined, even when she didn’t want them too?” Jake asked, holding the basketball still.

“A Taxxon, while part of the hive, is still autonomous.  But they must always combat a terrible hunger.  Always.  It is never-ending, always present. Hold your breath, and when your body starts desperately craving oxygen, that is what it is like.  Except all the time.  And imagine that you continue to not breathe, live with that feeling and drive that you _must breathe_.  Their instincts … they are nearly impossible to fight against.”  A shudder went through me at the memory.  “Even the Yeerk is helpless to stop the Taxxon body when there is food present.  While the Living Hive didn’t want its children to serve the Yeerks, the fact is that the Yeerks give Taxxons a supply of food to try to quell their insatiable hunger.”

“You morphed one, didn’t you,” Tobias said.

I nodded.  “Once.  And I’ve promised myself I would never again.  I cannot imagine living as such a creature.”  I closed my eyes and thought of Abron, forced to.  I wondered if he was still alive.  “Anyway, my brother and I will be going to the city offices.”

“Why?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know much about humans, but they need permits for everything.  Buildings, hobbies, transportation.  I assumed for this as well.”

“They would,” Cassie agreed.  “They can’t just chop it up, because that’d just draw news crews and cops and everything.  The forest is _protected_.”

“So we shall figure this out.  All of you, have a good day.  Come along, … Ax.” I did not like the shortening of my brother’s name, but I would have to use it.  And I had to think of a good humanized name for him, where Ax would be an appropriate nickname.  A nickname that would _not_ require a long back story.

I had a feeling I was going to have to go to the bookstore and look through a book on baby names.

 ****

It was easy enough to get the records and permits for Dapsen Logging Company.  There were lots of records, because Dapsen Construction was currently helping to rebuild the mall.  Rachel would be pleased that the Yeerks were using their powers for a less-evil reason.  (It _was_ the mall.)

I was pleased that apparently there was no actual permission to destroy the forest, not at this time.  There was a committee of three humans that had to vote on it.  One had already nay and another, yay.  (I noted his name and address as a possible Controller.)  The last vote would be from a name named Louis Farrand.  I noted his address.  He had a very high chance of becoming a Controller.

Pleased with the information, I put the records back and went back outside.  Aximili was still sitting on the step, happily eating the hotdog.  I had given him ten dollars in ones and told him he could buy one at a time while I was inside.  (It seemed wiser than risking him dripping ketchup onto forms.  Besides, it was a lovely day.  Both of us didn’t have to suffer.)

“How many have you had?” I asked, grinning at the mess on his face.

“Eight.”  He beamed.

Shaking my head, I went to the vendor and asked for one as well, before we started to walk.  (The vender must have felt disappointed at the loss of his new favorite customer.)  “Here, wipe your face,” I said, handing Aximili a napkin.  Then I took it from him and put in the trash receptacle we passed. 

“What did you la-learn?”

Swallowing before I answered, I said, “Not much, honestly.  They’re not allowed to log, at least.  They must get another vote of approval from a man named Louis Farrand.  If we can get inside, we can examine their computers.  I am hoping that we can upload a virus that could make us able to hack into their computer network from another computer.”

Aximili appeared to think about it.  “I don’t think that would be too difficult.”

I laughed.  “I should hope not.  The day one of them can out-program one of us is when we are truly lost.”

“That is true.”

“I should get around to getting a computer or three.  After the house is bought, I suppose.”

Aximili was quiet.  “So there is another reason to purchase one, a house?  I did not realize it could be so necessary.”

I turned to look at him, curious at his tone.  “We could manage without one, and I will admit, I am not too eager to live in a house.  The forests are a saner choice.”

“Yes, they are.”  Was it my imagination, or did my brother look relieved?  While I had given a thought to the idea that he might have felt like I was trying to avoid him indefinitely, I had not thought it a serious concern.

“I do not expect you to move in,” I continued, “though it would be best if I resided in the building more often than not.”

“Why?”

“Humans expect homes to have someone inside.  And it will make contact between the humans and us easier.”

“Really? Well, I suppose human technology should be able to do that,” Aximili agreed.

I laughed.  “Yes, and the home will be very helpful in other ways.  The others cannot always meet this way, out in woods or parks, where we still risk being overheard.  And we would have a television and radio for news, and the telephone so the others could contact us.  Plus, I can’t keep sending everything to a PO box, especially if I’m going to get shipments.”  My lips quirked.  “We would also have a kitchen.”

“A kitchen?  What is that?”

“The place where meals are made. It’d be nice not to have to visit the city every time I crave human food.”

At that Aximili nodded a bit more forcefully.

“And I could at least get the motor vehicles I have chosen out of a parking garage.  I know some are videotaped for security, and it would be too much trouble if all of us are seen together on tape.”

My brother was quiet.  “I should have been more supportive-tive about your decision, obeyed your orders without being so …”

“Obstinate,” I supplied, internally laughing.

He blushed and said quietly, “Yes.  I apologize.”

“Well, rest assured, you are not the first under my watch that had been less than thrilled at my decisions.  Though you are probably one of the less vocal.”

“It wasn’t my place to question,” he said, still ashamed of his prior behavior, whatever his true reason.

“Ax, sometimes we need others to question our actions, to see the mistake we can’t see by ourselves.  But don’t tell your other superior officers I said that.  They’d have my tail.”  I touched his shoulder in a kind squeeze.  “Still, it would be nice if you could trust me on the little things,” I teased.

He tried to smile.  “I am.  It is just … is it always so easy?”

“What?”

“To … to … you do not look confused about anything here. Ear.  You do not trip or play with sounds.  Or let taste overcome you.”  Again he blushed.

Now I felt guilty.  “I have had an extra month than you to grow accustomed.”  And several more years. 

“Even still … if I were alone, I would not be like you.  I would not think of such things, like purchasing a, a house or cars.  Or getting money.”

“Yes, well, that is where experience comes in.  Cadets are supposed to be a little green.  Clueless,” I explained at his look. 

“Are you ever scared?”

I laughed.  “All the time.  But I am no longer allowed to show it.  And you become inured to certain things, over time.  They are no longer terrifying, or as terrifying.”

Aximili nodded, like he might have understood.  Perhaps he did.

 ****

Cassie’s response was so obvious that I nearly laughed when she said it.  “Rabbits.”

“I thought you were going to think of something that didn’t get eaten by everything,” Marco said back.

‹It will do.  We have that morph.›

‹I don’t,› Aximili said.

“Neither do I,” Marco said.

“That’s because you were a chicken and didn’t join when we did,” Rachel said sweetly.

‹Rachel!› I scolded with a force of sharpness they did not often hear from me.  Even my brother flinched.  After a very dark look – I have _told_ her that I did not want it brought up anymore – I said calmly, as if I hadn’t given any sort of reprimand, ‹Rabbits are easily captured, and I’m sure there may be a few in the Clinic.›

“We do have a buck,” Cassie said. 

“Since last I knew, a lot of things eat them,” Marco repeated, though he did look pleased at my support.  It was subtle, but I saw that Rachel’s comment had hurt him.

‹Not all of us have to be rabbits,› I said calmly.  ‹It would probably be best if we weren’t.  An owl, to act as surveillance for other predators.›  I smiled at Marco.  ‹A few other creatures.›

“So, we get through the force field using rabbits.  Now how do we get in the building?” Jake asked.

‹It is a log cabin.  A few squirrels or chipmunks, or a bug of some sort. The rabbit is only to dig a tunnel to get to the other side.  It is much too big to risk the run across to the building.›  I then gave a bit of a smile.   ‹Of course, I do plan to give the Yeerks a bit of a distraction.  They cannot avoid chasing an Andalite.›

“That’s a good way to end up dead,” Marco commented in a dry voice.

‹There are worse ways to die.  Aximili can manage the computers, when you get inside, take care of the trace.  Make sure it’s good enough that it will transfer up to the ship, if possible.›

‹I’ll do my best.›

I nodded.  I knew he would.

“We should probably go bug, once we get in,” Jake stated.  “Flies.  They can get in anywhere.  Plus, they’re smaller.”

Yes, that did make sense.  ‹Then you shall have acquire them.›  They all gave each other a strange little look, and I rolled my eyes once I realized what it meant.  Apparently they had acquired that form to do some mischief.  ‹Or since you’ve already done so›  – and I took pleasure in all of their even _more_ guilty looks, and their fidgeting – ‹that will be one thing that you don’t have to do.›

They were all silent for a moment, until Rachel spoke, “So, the plan is, one of us goes rabbit, digs a hole, the rest go fly, infiltrate this place, and all the Yeerks go running after you.”

‹More or less.›

“Do you think it’d be better is maybe one of us acted as a distraction as well?” Tobias said.  “I mean, less Yeerks chasing you is always better, isn’t it?”

“The person in the rabbit, maybe?” Cassie suggested.

I was against putting one of the children in such danger, but it did seem a reasonable request. 

“I’ll do it,” Rachel volunteered, before I had even given my approval. 

‹Very well.  A wolf would probably do.  But being a rabbit won’t be necessary.  I will take care of that once it becomes dark, and my brother will act as guard.  And if the Yeerks become suspicious, maybe I will allow him to pretend that he wants to eat me.  Provided he won’t kill me when he does so.›

‹I wouldn’t!›

I merely smiled.  ‹Come at three o’clock, tonight.  We’ll meet at the Clinic.›

“Come on, why can’t we meet at _my_ house?” Marco whined.

‹Will that make you feel better?› I responded.

He thought about it.  “Well, it would mean I wouldn’t have to wake up a half an hour early.”

‹We’ll meet at Cassie’s.  Fly there as owls.  Oh, Cassie, you don’t have to.  You can just walk out.›

 ****

Aximili did not have to pretend to want to eat me.  I managed to dig the hole with little trouble, thought I was careful so the hole was not too obvious from the Yeerk side of the field.  It was the smallest it could be. 

At the prescribed time, we flew to the Clinic.  Cassie was outside, pretending to check on the patients.  Rachel was there, human as well, pretending to spend the night.  The boys arrived soon after us.

‹Fancy meeting all of you here,› Marco yawned.

‹I want you all to remember this is all very dangerous, so you must be careful,› I said rather needlessly.  ‹After we get to the site, you will change into flies.  I will guide you to the hole, if it is necessary, and you will go to the door.  When once Rachel and I have drawn away and distracted the Controllers, you will get in.  Work quickly and efficiently.›  I looked at all of them.  ‹Honestly, perhaps would be better if just Aximili and one of you entered.›

‹You mean I could have stayed in bed?› Marco whined, joking.

‹We’ll be flies.  We’ll need all of us to find what we need,› Jake said.

I sighed, trusting their judgment.  ‹It is clear for you to morph,› I said to the girls.  Once they were done, we flew to the camp. 

‹There is the tunnel,› I said.  ‹Do you see it?›

After the affirmative, I told all of them to go to the ground and do their appropriate forms.  Even as an owl, I had a bit of trouble seeing the small insects, but I managed to help guide them to the tunnel.  I did roll my eyes when they reported that there was a window open and were going in – obviously the Yeerks put too much faith in their force field – so I welcomed them to find a computer room before flying to the ground next to the wolf and demorphing.

‹Are you ready?› I asked Rachel.

‹Totally.›

I shook my stalks at her but trotted to the opposite side of the compound.  ‹Would you care to get their attention?›

She did, because she howled like they do in the movies.  Spotlights were on us and I gave a mocking sort of salute to the Controllers. 

‹Now we run?›

‹Yes.›

And we took off, Rachel giving a slightly insane laugh.  I made a mental note to watch that human.  She could become a liability. 

We split up after a few hundred yards, and so did the Yeerks behind us.  More followed me.  I was forced to choose a certain less-cluttered path, because it was night and the moon wasn’t that bright.  My eyes couldn’t see well.  (Thankfully, neither could the Controllers, otherwise I would have been in serious trouble.)  However, even though my vision was poor, I was faster, and I knew this forest reasonably well.  It wasn’t long before I lost them.  In the distance, I could hear Rachel howling, drawing them to her, and I hope she knew when to _stop_ doing that.

I started to go back, getting rid of the occasional Controller than wander too far away from his prescribed group.  I paced back and forth, desperately waiting just outside the complex.  In the shadows, Rachel soon trotted upon me, looking, if a wolf can look so, very smug.  It wasn’t a long wait after that, because in ten minutes, five wolves bolted from the place and into the forest.  Aximili must have shut down the fields.  Clever.

With the wolf noise, they caught our scent, and we ran to them.

‹I got the program set up, brother,› Aximili reported. 

‹And that guy, Farrand, he’s making a special trip out here,› Jake said.

‹When?›

‹End of the week.›

If he was making a visit, he probably wasn’t a Controller, yet.  But he probably would become one at that time.  ‹Good job.›  I looked at Marco.  ‹And tomorrow, Aximili and I will meet at your house.›

‹What for?›

‹Because you were so disappointed when we met at Cassie’s.›

‹Oh, ha.›

‹We’ll need your computer.  To hack into Yeerk mainframes.›  I planned to have a bit of fun fixing their orders.

‹Will pizza bites be okay?›

 ****

I never let myself have enough fun, but I made up for lost time as I sent the most ridiculous things to the Yeerks and gave silly orders.  Not too much, of course, because I didn’t want to give them any idea that we could access their computers.

Aximili decided he would come by daily until we got our own computer, under the pretense to keep track of Yeerk activities, but I had a feeling it was more along the lines of emptying Marco’s refrigerator.  I allowed him to use the excuse that Marco’s father already knew his human morph, that he wouldn’t be too out of place if the parent should see him there.  And meeting my brother daily might convince Marco’s father that he wasn’t as brilliant as creating such an important program might imply.

I chose a bit more a direct approach, dug out Henry Agincourt, and visited Mr. Louis Farrand.

I got his wife.  She was a chatty human with a home perm and dye job.  She was trying to be blond, but she missed the roots, and she told me to call her Cynthia.  And it was possible her nails were claws in disguise.

“I don’t know anything about this logging thing, but a national forest, you say?”

I nodded sagely.  “Yes.  I mean, it’s such a beautiful place.  I can’t understand why.  I thought, maybe if I spoke with your husband, he could perhaps tell me the real reason.  I mean, it was all so sudden.  I’ve tried asking others, but they won’t talk to me.”

She patted my knee, or a little above it.  “Well, I’m sure Louis will be happy to answer all of your questions when he gets home, Henry.”

“You’re so kind.  I don’t mean to be such an inconvenience.”

We made small talk, which actually consisted of me nodding and occasionally inching down the couch to get away from her patting hand.  When I did talk, I made a point to exalt the virtues of the forest.  She was an easily-led woman or willing to humor me.  In any case, perhaps she could convince her husband of the proper way to vote.  Wives have a special knack for getting husbands to bend to their will.  (I learned that from personal experience, as it was how most of the furniture got picked.)

There was the sound of a car, and Mrs. Farrand rushed to the window, saying, “Oh, that must be Louis now!”

She almost sounded disappointed, which I thought was odd.

Farrand was inside and giving me a most suspicious look as his wife introduced me.  He was an older human, growing bald.  If I was in my Alan Fangor morph, he would have been shorter than me, but in this form he was even. 

“Mr. Farrand, a pleasure to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.  He reluctantly shook it.

“How can I help you, Mr. Agincourt?”

His wife took over.  “Oh, Henry has been asking so many questions about this logging project, Louis.  By the company Dashing –”

“Dapsen,” I corrected.  “I was just wondering if you could explain to me the reasons for the logging.  I mean, isn’t this for—”

“Henry tells me it’s a national forest, Louis.”

I nearly scowled at the woman. 

“I mean, that sounds simply dreadful.”

“Many forests and periodically cut, to promote new growth,” Farrand said.  “As well as to help the economy.”

“So how much logging is going to take place?”

“That hasn’t been determined yet.”

“It’s old-growth forest—” I said.

“They’re very old trees,” Mrs. Farrand said.  She wasn’t being very helpful, judging by the way Mr. Farrand was looking, and I realized I had to get her to go away.  Or leave here.

“Perhaps you’d like to discuss this somewhere else, Mr. Farrand?  My treat.”

“Oh, dear!  Henry is so—”

“Just Mr. Farrand, Mrs. Farrand.  My … er, my wife thinks business and pleasure shouldn’t mix.  One side always gets short-changed, she says.”  Loren had never said that.

Mrs. Farrand looked like something had soured her mouth, before she sniffed.  “Don’t bother.  Louis, dear, I just remembered I have an appointment at the salon.  Have a good day, Mr. Agincourt.”

While I didn’t understand her change into attitude towards me, I was relieved when she left.

“You’re married?” Mr. Farrand asked me.  “You’re not wearing a wedding ring.”

I looked down at my left hand, then put it behind my back.  Being caught in a lie probably wouldn’t help me.  “I married a long time ago.  It doesn’t fit anymore.”  I cleared my throat.  “About the forest.”

“What’s her name?” He was suspicious.

“Who?”

“Your wife.”

“L-Loren.” 

He looked at me, and I struggled not to fidget.  After a very long, tense moment, he finally said, “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk.”

“Thank you.”

And so we talked about the logging project.  I played the slightly pushy concerned citizen and tried to get him to promise to vote no.  “Are you even sure you can trust the company, Dapsen?” I asked, slightly desperate.

“What about them?”

“I’ve heard some negative things about them, is all.  Nothing concrete, but they’re not very … friendly.”

“I’ll see for myself.  I’m visiting the site tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”  That was a surprise.

“Yes.  It was supposed to be later in the week, but they asked for an earlier meeting.”

I looked down and frowned.  That meant they were desperate to start hunting for Aximili and me. We had to prepare to save this human. “You could just vote, no, now and save yourself a trip,” I tried.

He gave me a small glare.  “I will be visiting their operation.”

“I see.” A pause.  There was nothing else to do here.  “Well, I guess you’ve answered my questions.  I do thank you for your time, Mr. Farrand.”

“It was my pleasure.  It always is nice to meet a concerned citizen.  I will keep your concerns in mind, of course.”

“Thank you.  I guess that’s all I can ask.” 

He showed me to the door.  “Send my greetings to your wife.”  Again, another suspicious tone.

“I will.  And … and it was a pleasure meeting you.  Good day.”

Walking away, I shook my head.  Foolish human.  He almost wasn’t worth saving.  The forest was though.  And Aximili and myself, of course.

 ****

“Okay, do you have a mole in the Yeerks?” Marco demanded.  “I mean, it’s not even up on their computers yet.”

‹He’s coming tomorrow,› I repeated, carefully watching Jake’s dog with one eye.  I wished the boy hadn’t brought the creature, because he was too curious of a creature, if you understand me.  I nearly kicked him with a well-placed back hoof.  Now the dog was hovering around his owner and giving me a curious, but leery look.

“So, what do we do?” Rachel asked.

“The Yeerks need Farrand to vote yes,” Cassie said.  “He’s the key.  He either votes yes or he’s made a Controller.”

“So, what?  Are you thinking we should kidnap him?” Tobias asked.

“Show him the boys in blue, maybe,” Marco said.

‹No.›

‹That wouldn’t be wise,› Aximili agreed.

“Could we make the Yeerks look bad or something?  Assuming they won’t just make him a Controller,” Jake said, scratching the dog’s head.  “Blatant disrespect or whatever?  Get a dead bald eagle and pretend they shot it?”

“Sure, pick on the bald eagle,” Rachel said.

“If they are doing illegal things, they would get shut down,” Cassie pointed out.

“We could say they’re clear-cutting to grow wacky tobaccy,” Marco said.  We all looked at him.  “It was just a suggestion!”

‹What’s wacky tobaccy?› Aximili asked.

“It’s an illegal drug,” Cassie said.

“Also called pot, weed, Mary Jane, grass, marijuana –”

‹Thank you, Marco.  We’ll keep it in mind.›  I kept an eye on the canine as he left Jake’s side and trotted off, examining the surrounding brush.  He did start to go to Aximili, but my brother gave a small tail twitch that the dog noticed.  Several of the children laughed.

We tried to think of a plan, but there didn’t seem to be any that would work.  I was reluctant to say what I had to, but I did.  ‹We’re going to have to wing it.›

“I love those kinds of plans!  They usually have me screaming in terror,” Marco approved.

“So no different than usual?” Jake replied.

“Actually, then we have planned screams of terror,” Tobias said.  “So it is different.”

I looked heavenward and wondered, _why me_.  ‹We don’t know when Farrand is going to visit, so Marco will have to watch when the meeting going to be.›

“Great, now you’ve given Marco an excuse to sit on a computer all day,” Rachel drawled.  “Just what he needed.”

“It’ll give him a break from losing all those games,” Jake said.

“Hey, I do not lose.”  But then Marco looked at me seriously.  “You know, I expect better from you, Elfangor.  And then you steal my strategy for writing papers.”

“God, we’re doomed,” Tobias said. 

“What he said.”

I gave a small frown.  They expected me to think of brilliant plans, but that is challenging and I’ve probably met my quota for the year, and my quota was never very high to begin with.  ‹Short of leading a revolt of forest animals,› I said, sarcastic, ‹I haven’t thought of anything.  Do you have any suggestions?›

“How about flooding news stations?” Jake said.  “Get everyone to know about it. Homer!  Stay close!”  The dog barked but seemed happy to dig in the brush.

‹Even if we could, that wouldn’t help Mr. Farrand, not since he is coming tomorrow.  Humans take too long to get interested and organized.  No, I am afraid we will have to see what tomorrow will bring.›

“And what if we can’t?  What if we’re too late and he gets taken or votes yes, anyway?” Cassie demanded.

‹Aximili and I will purchase the house sooner than later.  We’ll go deeper into forest, and then we’ll just have to survive in the house.›

“But the forest—”

I consoled her.  ‹It is not pleasing for me to think on, either, but I doubt it will go on too long.  Humans will get interested and protest, and the Yeerks will not continue if they do not find us within a reasonable time.  A month or two, at the most.›

Cassie was not pleased at such a forecast.  Neither was I, but I had no choice if it came to that.

‹Is your dog detecting something dangerous?› Aximili asked, his ears twitching.  ‹He is barking—›

And then the barking turned into a whine and the dog ran back.  Close on his heels was one of the worst smells in the world. 

“Homer, Homer, what’s the ma—oh, jeez!  I told you to stay close,” Jake said as the canine whined pitifully.  The children, either gagging or laughing, were stepping away.

“Oh, man, Homer got hosed!” Marco laughed, covering his nose.

I was already moving back, covering my nose as well.

‹Fascinating.  That is possibly the worst thing I have ever smelled,› Aximili commented.

Jake was pushing the dog away, telling him to go home.  Love for pets only went so far.  “Man, my parents are going to _love_ this,” he groaned as Homer disappeared. “Homer coming home reeking of skunk.  Oh, can we please move away from here.”

I was already trotting several yards away. 

‹I think that smell is causing me to become deranged.  I might have to run away in a panic,› Aximili said.

“Take me with you,” Marco gagged.

‹What caused that smell?› Aximili asked.

“That, Ax, was a skunk,” Tobias said.

“I hope he doesn’t get into my room,” Jake said, looking off the way his dog had run. 

“Just bathe him in tomato juice and leave him outside for a few days,” Cassie said.

I snorted.  ‹Only if you want a dog that smells like a Bloody Mary and skunk.  Eh, I hate skunk stench,› I muttered, trying to wave away the smell.

“You sound like you’ve had personal experience, Elfangor,” Rachel said.

I looked at her, slightly horrified at the idea.  ‹Hardly.›  But I had driven by skunks killed.  One time one was hit on the street I had lived on and the city hadn’t removed it for several days.  And my neighbors had had dogs, who _very_ stupidly decided to roll in it and then _greet_ me after I returned from work.  Do you know if you spill your drink on a skunked dog, it actually makes them smell, if possible, _worse_?  (And I was not just highly sensitive, what some persons claimed!)

“Then how do you know?”

“Forget that – how do I deskunk my dog?” Jake countered.

Thankfully, my neighbors had had lots of experience with dogs that had met skunks.  (My suit, I deemed better to just throw away.)  ‹Take an unopened bottle of hydrogen peroxide, mix with some dish soap and one-fourth cup of baking soda.  Let it sit for ten minutes on your dog before you wash it off.›

“That works?” Cassie asked.

‹Yes.›

“I’ll have to tell my dad.  He got sprayed one time and now he makes me handle all of them.  We try to have some tomato juice around.”

‹All tomato juice does is mask the smell.  And not very well.  The spray is made up of thiols, and the bonds are disrupted when you use an oxidizer and base, which eliminates the smell.  Simple chemistry.›

“Right.  Chemistry.”

‹It does make sense,› Aximili agreed.  ‹And the scent is a very formidable weapon.› 

Marco snickered.  “Yeah, formidable weapon.  We’ll fight the Yeerks waving skunk butts.  That’ll get them running.”

‹It very well could.  Hork-Bajir have a very sensitive sense of smell,› he said, dryly, probably missing the sarcasm.  ‹As do Taxxons, but they are used to being around foul smells.  And humans obviously do not like the smell.  Or Andalites,› he added as an afterthought.   ‹But it wouldn’t be a very effective method of battle.›

“Would it?” Tobias asked suddenly.  “I mean, right now?  We could get them to postpone the meeting or something if we got that camp smelling of skunk.  Maybe long enough for us humans to get organized and protest.”

‹They will merely take the human and infest him in another place.  I doubt they will wait on this,› I said. 

“Farrand’s the key,” Jake said.  “And if they’re just going to make him a Controller, shouldn’t we just nab him?”

“The guy’s probably got a Yeerk with his name on it,” Rachel agreed.

“Yeah.  They’re not going to leave it to chance,” Marco agreed.

‹But they might persuade him and let him go,› Aximili said.

“But if they can’t or don’t, they’ll take him,” Rachel said.  “So we nab Farrand when we can.”

‹And then what?› I asked, reminding them of reality.  ‹Keep him indefinitely?  Where? And when we release him, the Yeerks will take him to find what he learned.  And if Farrand goes missing, they will just appoint someone else in his place, someone who will probably already be a Controller.  Yes, it will give us time, but not much.›

They realized the truth, which took some of the wind away.

“If they’re going to bring Farrand into the camp, won’t they have to shut down the force field?” Cassie asked.

‹Yes.  Yes, they would.›

“We could attack then,” Rachel said.

‹You do think of wonderful plans,› I said, growing annoyed.  ‹Attack them.›

“Everything we’ve suggested you’ve turned down!” she said.  “Face it, there are some things we can’t plan for!  So tomorrow, we’ll go in and kick their butts.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, at her tone and manner.  ‹Then you are a fool.  You are acting as if we need this forest, all of you!  As if it is our last haven, our last stand.  I have no more desire to see the Yeerks destroy it than any other creature, but the fact remains – it is _not_ important enough to risk our lives.  Yes, we will try to save the human; yes, we will try to save the forest; but first and foremost, for this situation, we save ourselves.

‹Tomorrow we will see where we stand,› I said.  ‹If it is obvious that Farrand is free and will be taken involuntarily, we will do our best to rescue him.  Otherwise, we will beg for the forest’s forgiveness.›

 ****

Farrand was to come at four o’clock.  While the children were at school, I kept busy by watching the logging company.  They were busy little Controllers, making it all look pretty.  And they were anxious.  Nervous.  I could see them peering over their shoulders and past the force field.

Worried about us.

I jumped to flight and flew to my area.  To cover all options, Aximili and I had dissembled the make-shift scoop with its television and related electronics, deposited of them somewhere we could retrieve them, if necessary.

Aximili saw me.  ‹How does it appear?›

‹They are waiting for us to attack, I believe,› I said as I demorphed.  ‹They are all very nervous.›

He waved a stalk and started to walk.  Once I finished, I caught up with him.  ‹I hope we can stop the Yeerks,› he said.  ‹In this, at least.  It is disgusting.›

‹Yes, it is.›

We walked and fed in quiet contemplation.  Aximili trotted off to investigate a noise, and then called me over.  ‹They are little ones, I believe,› he said, bending to examine them.

‹Then we’d best get away before their parents return,› I said as I approached, smiling.   However, I stopped smiling when one exceptionally brave one peeked out.  ‹Aximili, that is a skunk.›

‹It is?›

‹Please come away.  I don’t feel like being sprayed,› I said in a very calm voice, stepping back very gently and looking for the parent.

Aximili looked at me curiously before coming away with less care than I had done.  The small skunk stared at us before one of its siblings joined it.  ‹So that is a skunk?›

‹Basically.  If it black and white, get out of its sight.›  That saying applied to police cars, according to an old roommate, but I thought it applicable to skunks as well.  And if the little things did not get back into their burrow, they’d end up predator-food.

‹You really do not like them?›

I waved my tail, dismissive.  ‹I have no preference for them, merely for not being sprayed.  I do not know how the mother will act when she sees us hovering over her children, and I’d rather not find out.›

‹True, their mother could be very protective.  And Cassie was right; they seem very friendly.›

‹They were young.  If they continue acting like that, they will end up eaten.›

Aximili looked a little disappointed at that.  We have few predators on our worlds.  Few animals, in general.  Lots of plants, though.  ‹Earth does have many predators.  Nearly all of the morphs we have taken have been such.›

‹They are the most powerful.  Earth has many animals, in general, though.›

‹And a large variety.  Even the Zoo on _Ala_ does not have so many creatures.›

We made mild conversation, did another fly-over of the Yeerk base.  Very little had changed, except one important thing.

‹Do they seem … unusually nervous for a mere infestation or a possible attack from us, brother?› Aximili asked.

‹You took the thought right out of my head.›  They were even jumpier than before; I had not thought that was possible.

‹Do you think … he is present?› he asked, a slight venom in his voice.

Aximili’s point had merit, a lot.  ‹Perhaps.  Or he will be.  He must be very certain about capturing us, if he is going to be here.›  I gave a laugh.  ‹What an over-confident idiot, to think we’d be captured so easily.›

‹Perhaps he is interested is something else?›

‹The human?  Hardly.  The only other thing is us.  He always did count his hits before his swipes.›  I clicked my beak.  ‹This does make things interesting.›

‹Why?›

‹If we cannot save the human, we can at least make Visser Three’s existence a bit more miserable.›

‹So we are going to attack?›

I would have been smiling.  ‹Not attack … annoy.  And humiliate.›

 ****

The children arrived soon after school let out, and we told them what we had learned and seen, mostly Visser Three’s human form appearing.  I didn’t pay attention to the details, but I felt the aura. 

“Visser Three’s there, waiting to capture us, and you want us to attack?” Marco asked.  “I thought you wanted us to _live_?”

“Do you have a plan now?” Rachel asked a bit snidely.

‹Of course not.  I have an idea.› 

“Why are you both smiling?” Tobias asked.

‹The tunnel to the other side of the field is still open.  And I need a volunteer—›

“I’ll do it,” Rachel interrupted.

‹You should learn to wait until I tell what you are volunteering for,› I said calmly.  I knew she would volunteer instantly.  ‹But very well.  Morph and keep an eye out for the arrival of Farrand.›

For a moment, Rachel gave me the fiercest scowl before stomping off to morph into her eagle.

‹And I will need a few more volunteers.›

“You did that on purpose,” Jake said, smiling.

‹I have no idea as to what you are speaking of.  We will have to work fast.  If the human is ignorant, he must be made unconscious.  And the next volunteer is going to have to get very close to Visser Three.›

“What is this idea of yours?” Jake asked.

“Will it save the forest?” Cassie added.

‹At the moment, it is not about saving the forest.  It is about humiliating Visser Three.  Though, if we’re lucky, the forest will be saved.  This time, anyway.›

“Isn’t it a bad idea to piss Visser Three off?” Tobias asked.

“I think it usually ends in heads rolling.”

‹True.  But the very amusing part is that, while heads will roll, the whole of the Yeerk empire shall know of his little encounter.  Believe me, the Yeerks do not tolerate failure well.  Imagine the possibility of demoting him in rank.  Though, I admit, that it is a small chance.›  I had little worry about Visser Three actually _advancing_ in rank (at least as long as Visser One remained competent).  He had been Visser Three since I left Earth the first time.

‹As to the plan:  Cassie, we borrowed an animal trap.›

“Why?”

I nodded to Aximili, and he bent to pick up the trap that was hidden in the bushes.  Inside was the sleeping mother skunk.  (We had also taken some tranquilizers, because, for some things, it was definitely better to be safe than sorry.)  ‹Perhaps you can see where I’m going with this?›

“We are going into battle with skunk butts, aren’t we?” Marco grinned.

‹Only one or two of us.  The rest while be using our more dangerous forms.  The problem is, one person is going to have to allow themselves to be captured.  It is the only way to get close enough to the Visser.›

“You’re actually going to let one of _us_ be bait?” Jake asked.  I knew why he was surprised, because I didn’t let them risk such dangers.

‹I need to be present, visible to the Visser.  Aximili as well.  Quite frankly, _Andalites_ have to be seen.›

“Otherwise Visser the Turd might wonder why, and think we’re human,” Marco finished. 

‹It does give him a bit too much credit,› I smiled. 

‹It will also make the human-Controllers less likely to think any humans are involved,› Aximili added.

“I want to volunteer,” Cassie said.  The boys all looked at her, surprised.  Even my brother realized this was out of character for the gentle human.  I merely shook my stalks at her, at the predictability.

‹This still won’t negate your previous actions,› I said to her, and just her, before I spoke aloud, ‹Very well.  You will have to make it convincing.›

“You can’t let Cassie –” Jake started.

‹It is her decision.›  I turned my attention at her.  ‹It will be very dangerous.  You have to be captured, but you can’t make it appear like you wanted to.›

“I understand.”  Even still, her voice trembled.

‹You will also need to be in a … less threatening form, and something small enough that they can carry.›

“… My osprey?”

Birds were too easily taken out of the air with bullets, too easily killed, but there wasn’t much time to find something better, or even if there was something better.

“Elfangor, you can’t –”

“Jake, I’m going to.”

Marco waved a finger at her.  “No more hanging out with Rachel, young lady!  She’s a baaaaad influence on you!”

It broke the seriousness.

“I’ll back her up, then,” Jake volunteered.  “You said you need two of us to be the skunk.”

‹You have one of the more powerful forms, your tiger,› I denied.  ‹Marco or Tobias have less useful forms – ›

“Big Jim would Donkey Kong your head if you told him that.”

‹If I gave Big Jim an apple, he’d forgive me for anything.  And are you volunteering?›

“A wise man once said, _never volunteer_!”

“I’ll do it,” Tobias said.

‹Very well.  Both of you, acquire the skunk, and the Aximili will return her to her den.  Cassie will allow herself to be captured, but if something happens, Tobias can enter by the tunnel.  The rest of us will sufficiently distract the Yeerks.  The rest, of course, is obvious.›

Marco shook his head while Cassie and Tobias acquired the skunk.  “There is something fundamentally wrong with a plan that makes one of us need to get captured.  I think it’s the part about getting captured.  It’s, I don’t know, completely _insane_.”

‹It helps to be a little in this war,› I commented.

 ****

There is something immensely satisfying about a plan that works out, even with a few kinks.  While my hearts did momentarily _stop_ when Cassie was shot, the fact was I would forever treasure the look on Visser Three’s face after being skunked. 

‹Very good, Cassie,› I smiled when she waddled into view, then down into the little tunnel.  I think all of us were smiling.

‹Thank guys.  Farrand’s still knocked out back there.›  She paused.  ‹He might have seen me, mid-morph, though.›

It wasn’t exactly good news, but I consoled myself that the human probably also had a concussion.  ‹Do not worry.›  Then I took a deep breath and called in the lightest singsong voice, ‹It appears that we have a standoff.›

His eyes were wild on me.  ‹ _Elfangor_!› he hissed.

‹Esplin.  It is funny to see you here.›

‹Do not try to toy with me.  I have forces on the way.›

‹No doubt.  Tell me, how long shall your Blade ship smell after you grace it with your newly acquired stench?›

‹The smell … it will go away.›

I couldn’t help it.  I laughed.  ‹Obviously you have never traveled the human roads and met a deceased one on the highway.  Though, it will go away, in about one Earth week.›  I chuckled again.  ‹If you are in the open air.  But we all know what happens in an airtight, closed-up spacecraft.  The smell will never go away.  Ever.  At least, not without a major refit.›

He was twitching Prince Alloran’s tail in barely repressed anger.  ‹I’ll dispose of you myself, you Andalite filth!›

‹If you did that, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how to remove the stench.  A trade.  I will give you a formula. And you release Farrand.  He doesn’t know the truth.  And try to avoid chopping down any other forests.›  A deliberate pause.  ‹And please tell me you did not think you’d drive us out this way.  We may be Andalites, but we’re not foolish.  We already have covers in this human world.  In fact, one of my warriors has homework to attend to tonight.  Tomorrow he is to learn how to shake hands and sit.›

‹You will regret telling me that,› he vowed.

‹Not as much as you will regret not agreeing to my terms.  We do not care if the human is taken or if the forest is destroyed.  At least, not more than another Andalite would.  Release the human.  You know I will uphold my part of the bargain.›

For a moment, Visser Three just stood there before his tail and stalks drooped.  He ordered the human retrieved, made the regular threats to his minions that probably didn’t make him feel as good as they usually would.

‹Have one of your men drive him to the nearest human hospital.  Once he’s safe, we’ll tell you want you need to know.  And we’ll be watching, so no tricks,› I said, looking up at Rachel.

He did have to give his one last threat.  ‹One day, I will have you all.  I’ll take pleasure in torturing you, torture and kill all of your little warriors before I at last turn to you, Elfangor.  For all your grand plans and tricks, I will find all of you.›

I smiled, though it wasn’t very nice.  ‹I await it.›

‹Though we are sure to smell him coming,› Aximili said to me, smirking, but a look Visser Three told me that, once again, it was not nearly quiet enough.

After Rachel returned, reporting Farrand was safely at the hospital, I told Visser Three the formula to remove the skunk smell. 

More or less.

Formula, ineffective wives’ tale.  Mask, remove.  They almost mean the same thing.  Grape juice, tomato juice.  They’re both fruits.  It can hardly be _my_ fault if Visser Three had his human-Controllers so terrified they would not tell him that I was _confused_ about the proper method.

Though it might be my fault if the Yeerk databases periodically showed images of Visser Three lounging in a grape juice pool.

But I shall plead the fifth on that.

 ****

I liked the building the children had chosen; secretly, I had hoped it would be the one they would pick.  There were beautiful, large windows to see the forests and fields in the living room, kitchen, and in another sitting room, the living room having a window seat.  The furniture was comfy and, while large, certainly was also minimal, leaving the much space that Aximili and I would require in our Andalite forms.  I had stepped in there, actually.  When I joined them to see their preferences, it was with the most supreme amount of self-control I merely politely thanking them instead of calling them idiots.  Rachel and Marco had very absurd ideas on necessary furniture, and I think all of them were very surprised that I could quickly pick out more pleasing alternatives and successfully manage to decorate a human abode. 

There were three bedrooms on the second floor, all furnished.  Towels stacked in the bathroom and linen closets, clothes in the dressers, hampers, and closets.  There was a full set of dishes, a stocked refrigerator, a cookie jar that usually only held crumbs.  A full entertainment system of videos, DVDs, CDs, and games.  Garbage heaped up, dishes in the sink.  The closets had coats, boxes, bags, and cleaning supplies. A computer was hooked up in the corner, a computer meant for _normal_ things.  In the bathrooms, there was shampoo, soap, razors, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and other hygiene products. 

Yes, it certainly could fool anyone into thinking someone lived there.  That was the point.  The children were very impressed.  I think even Aximili was as well.  Whenever we went shopping, he was always surprised at my boundless knowledge about human culture, and he was embarrassed whenever I subtly corrected him about something they had taught him wrongly in class.

As part of my cover, I spent at least three to five hours a day at the house, usually when the children were in school.  I made sure my neighbors – if we can call them that, because they were a good quarter of a mile away, and a privacy screen of trees surrounded the house – saw me, that my yard was well-managed, that the house was in a good balance between disarray and cleanliness.  I cooked food so there were just enough leftovers to seem right, that garbage was seen at the curbs, that laundry was done, that the food didn’t go to spoil.  (Not, of course, that I had to worry.  Aximili and once again myself, to my chagrin, were embarrassingly unpicky eaters.)  I was a typical human. 

More or less, anyway.

It was refreshing, almost, returning to my old life.  There was something simple, uncomplicated about being human.  There was no Andalite honor or rules choking me, weighing on my tail.

I was surprised when I heard a knock on the door.  Turning down the heat on the stove — I was cooking hamburger, which I planned to put in a casserole later – I went to the door.  Through the window I could see a van in my driveway.  Not mine.  My vehicles were kept in the garage. 

I opened the door and contained my surprise when I saw the human-Controller Chapman standing there with another human, male.  College-aged, I suppose, dressed professional-casual.  “Hello?” I smiled, slightly wary.  Did they suspect me?  Did they wish to sell me something?

“Hello, Mr. Fangor, isn’t it?  I’m Mr. Chapman, the vice principal for the schools.  This is Robert Young.”  We shook hands, a strange human custom that was done originally to prove that the greeters were not holding weapons, I believe.  Such a thing would never work for Andalites.

I invited them in and we sat in the kitchen, so I could attend to my cooking.  After inquiring if they would like anything to drink, I asked, “So, why are you here?  Am I going to get detention for not turning in some homework twenty-odd years ago?”

They laughed.  “No, Mr. Fangor.  Our records show that your brother is under your care.  He’s school-aged.  We were surprised you did not enroll him.”

“Ax – Alexander,” I pretended to correct, “is home-schooled.”

“We thought as much, of course.  I understand you moved from Canada.”

Well, someone nearby must be a Controller, or knows someone on this bit of road, I mused.  It was good to know.  “Yes.  I went to college in this area.  With the loss of our parents,” – I would not say _death_ , because they were not dead – “I thought it would be a nice area for Ax to grow up.  Canada was too cold for me, honestly, after this weather.”

Young laughed and said nothing beat this weather.

“Did you come here to ask if I was going to enroll my brother in the next term, then?” I asked, knowing summer vacation wasn’t arriving exceptionally soon.  It would be hard to _not_ know, with the children.   I found it suspicious that they were coming to me now and not during the summer months.  It sounded like a handy excuse to visit.

“Partly.  The school is one of the best in the state, you know. Are you?”

I shook my head.  “No.  My parents home-schooled him, and he prefers it.  I do not think he’ll adjust well to the structures of school life.”  And I remembered human school, albeit the “advanced” portion.  I would not inflict that torture on Aximili.

“Perhaps he could spend a day at the school and determine for himself,” Young suggested.  “The death of his parents must have been very traumatic for him.”

Again, I would not lie.  “The separation is difficult, yes.  However, we both are coping.”

“Yes.  This is a very nice home.  You bought much here new, didn’t you?”

“I inherited a solid sum from my parents, as did Ax.  It was easier to sell our old home and buy new,” I said dismissively, amused that my finances had been examined as well.  They would see nothing.  I transferred money from a Canadian bank as well.  I had a credit history.  I had regular “paychecks” directly deposited from a company I made-up.  I had a tax record, all the proper forms under record, at least according to the computer.  I (and Aximili) had a social security number and birth certificate. There was also a high school equivalency and bachelor and graduate degrees from the local college, again according to the computer.  I knew what I needed to have to make the transition as smooth as possible, and the second time was even smoother than the first.

I continued, “Otherwise everything had to be driven down and I would have had to move it in.  This way professionals did it for me.”

“Clever,” Chapman agreed.  “And how do you find our city?”

“Remarkably unchanged in twenty-one years.  Except for the Gardens and that construction site by the mall, it’s like I never left, really.  Even the old Mickey D’s is still open on Vine, and I swear for the same price.  And I’m pretty sure it’s the same cashier, as well.”  I was lying, of course, but that was expected in this sort of small talk.

“Seeing any old faces?”

“Yes, actually.”  I smiled faintly.

Chapman smiled as well.  “Well, if you need any help meeting others, there’s a group called the _Sharing_.”

“Yes, I have heard of it.”  I crinkled my nose.  “Reminds me of the horrors of boy scouts, honestly.  I swear, if I’m lost in a forest, just start planning my funeral.  And another time I couldn’t right my kayak and practically drown.  My parents learned from me and didn’t subject Ax to the torture.  Like alien brainwashing, all that _Be Prepared_ and _Do a Good Deed Daily_.”

“Well, the _Sharing_ isn’t so geared for survival,” Chapman laughed.  “We’re just a group for people looking to meet others, have a fun time.”

“Sounds geared to survival for me,” I pointed out, mentally adding, _for Yeerks, anyway_.  I looked at them pointedly.  “And are you trying to recruit me?”

“If you’re interested.  And we offer help for families having difficult times.”

I nodded to it.  “I’ll think about it, though, honestly, I’m about as anti-social as they come.  As is Ax.  You’re better off getting Bigfoot to come than the pair of us.”

Young laughed.  “Well, you’re only as involved as you let yourself be.  Tell me, what do you do for a living?”

I shrugged, feeling we were cutting to the chase.  “I’m a decent computer programmer and have a PhD in quantum physics.  I basically do what the people in _Forlay_ tell me.  Make this work, make that work, balance the books this way – oh, do ignore that last one.”

“Quantum physics?” Chapman questioned, interested.

Again I shrugged, as if to say _what are you going to do about it?_   “Find a square peg, fit it in a square hole.”  I paused.  “Or a bigger round one or use a hammer.  I keep up to date in the field, but I haven’t done any work on it since I got in touch with my parents, because of their condition.”  When I returned to being an Andalite, returned to my parents, whose condition was that they were Andalites, I had to give up studying human physics.

“Were they ill long?”

Yes, they had been Andalites their entire lives.  “All of their lives.  Their parting, though unexpected and tramatic, may have been a blessing in the long run.”

“Remarkable neither your brother nor you are afflicted, then.  Lucky.”

“Perhaps we are.  We just don’t know it yet.”  Of course, usually it’s obvious from birth.

Young and Chapman looked at each other.  Was I possibly an ill host prospect?  Good, and all because I was an Andalite!  The irony was marvelous.

“Well, if you should need someone to turn to, the _Sharing_ is always there for you.  Many women your age do attend,” Chapman added with a look.

I laughed.  “Marriage?  I think my brother’s head would implode.”  And I was interested in my Loren, not possible Controllers.

Young grinned.  “There are girls his age as well.”

“As I said, his head would implode.”

“He’ll learn to like them.”

I gave him a look.  “I’m willing to hold back that present future.  Ax does not need encouragement to make my life miserable.  His entire status as _little brother_ covers that just perfectly.”

As if timed, I heard the door open and careful footsteps.  “Al?”  I noticed the very slight accent of _El_ , the abrupt halt to stop my full name.

“In here, Ax.  We have company.”

Aximili stepped into the kitchen and his eyes widened at our guests. 

“Alexander, this is Mr. Chapman, the vice-principal of the school, and his friend, Robert Young,” I introduced needlessly.  I watched as the Controllers took in the vast differences in our appearances.  My morph was pale-skinned, tall and muscular; Aximili’s was olive-colored, still tall, but obviously never going to match me.  We hardly looked to be of the same family.  I took care of that issue as well.  We were only half-brothers, according to the paper trail.  My mother had died when I was young, and my father had remarried.  I considered my stepmother my mother.  Simple.

“Say hello, Ax,” I added at the quiet.

“H-hello.  Oh.”  His look plainly asked what they were doing here as they returned his greeting.

“Mr. Chapman was interested in seeing in you would be enrolled in his school next term. Unless you wish, I have declined the prospect,” I said quickly as his mouth opened.  “They have also told me about a club thing.  The _Sharing_.”

Ax nodded slowly, eyeing the Controllers. 

I had to put an end to this.  Not only did I have a meal to cook, I also have to demorph in thirty minutes.  “Well, gentlemen, your visit has been a surprise and a pleasure.  Let me see you to the door.  I still have to make supper.  Ax, watch the hamburger, please.”

I saw them to the door and accepted the pamphlets they heaped upon me, the repeated invitations to come to the next gathering.  Then, I soundly shut the door in their faces and waited until the van had departed from the front of the house, watching from the window.

Aximili did not.  “What were they doing here?” he demanded, slightly hysterical.

I shushed him.  ‹Do not speak freely until we have checked for surveillance materials, Aximili,› I said quickly, before adding aloud, “They are merely playing the concerned neighbors.”

The home was not bugged, not that I had expected it to be.  However, one cannot be too careful. 

‹Do they suspect?› Aximili asked in his true form as I cooked.  I had drawn the blinds, of course.

“No, I doubt so.  Of course, I do not doubt they are interested in making me a Controller.”  I drained the grease from the meat and put the cooked materials in a bowl.

‹What?›

“I fabricated a reasonable history, Aximili,” I said calmly.  “To them, I make a great deal of money programming computers.  Too much to be merely a regular programmer.  I have given myself a degree in a difficult branch of human physics.  I am an interesting prospect.”

‹You should not use that morph, then.  It is dangerous.› 

“This is a war.  Everything is dangerous.  However, I have tempered the problem by saying I possibly have a life-threatening disease.”

‹What?›

“The same that our parents have, actually.  I’m an Andalite.”  Aximili was confused.  “In the end, it doesn’t matter.  I will remain inactive in any specialized field, will not draw additional attention.  For all appearances, we will merely have settled here.”

Aximili was quiet.  ‹Why do you stay in your human morph so much?› he asked me finally, as I started on the casserole.

“It is better to do human things as human, Aximili.  It is better to _be_ human here.”

‹It is not right.›

 “Aximili, you will eventually learn that even though it is not right, it is not necessarily wrong.” I turned and gave him a weak smile.  “And one day you will find out I am not as great as you would believe.  That I am no hero.”

‹You are!›

“Aximili,” I said quietly, turning away back to my cooking, “you’ll find that I’m only human.”  I do not know if he could have heard my words.  He certainly didn’t correct me.

 ****

“Alan, you cook wonderfully!” Loren beamed.  “I could get spoiled with you cooking me these things.”

I laughed.  “Trust me, you didn’t used to think so; it was through many months of practice that I reached my proficiency.”

“Practice well spent!” she said.  “How is your brother?”

My smile dimmed, though Loren wouldn’t see it.  “He is well, I suppose.” I moved the food around on my plate contemplatively.  “I think he’s starting to see that I’m not quite the big brother he always thought I was.”

“It is a tough time in his life.  Moving in with you full-time when you only used to visit, what, once every few months.  And there is an age gap.  Don’t worry; he’ll come around.”

“I do not know,” I disagreed, taking a sip of my water.  “I know this is a difficult time for him, but I wish … I wish he’d try more.  That he would mingle with the other children around.  I wish … I don’t know what.  Of course, but for the meddling of Elli—God, I could have been him.”

Loren said quietly, “Just give him time, Alan.  People grow on you, after a while.”

“Yes, you humans are a persistent lot.”  I smiled at my personal joke.  “Of course, now I must ask you a familial question.  You know what I am going to ask.”

She turned her face away from me.  “I don’t think I should.  He’s better off without me.”

“Loren, no child is better off without their mother.” Or father, I added mentally.  “I’ve seen his home, seen his uncle.  He’s been spending time at his friend’s home constantly.”  Actually, he had been spending time at my house constantly.  I did not mind. I knew Tobias was safe there, comfortable.  I knew where to find him.  And he kept the place tidy.  Eventually I thought he would eventually commandeer one of the remaining bedrooms once he gained enough courage to ask if he could.  “And his uncle doesn’t even care.”

She bit her lip.  “I don’t know if I can.”

“He’s only eight blocks away.  He’s not going to ask to move in, you know, though he’ll probably want to.  Wouldn’t you want to know what happened to your mom if she just disappeared?”

Loren chewed her food thoughtfully.  “Would you come with me?”

I hesitated.  “Of course.”

“You’re hiding something from me, Alan.”

Of course I am, I thought bitterly.  “I’ve already met him, Loren.  Ax introduced us.”

She sat up straighter.  “You didn’t tell me that!  When?”

“Before I met you.  I didn’t know he was your son then,” I lied.  “And then when I looked up the records, what was I supposed to say?  That, hey, I know this kid.  My baby brother consents to be his friend.  And I couldn’t tell Tobias about you, obviously.”

“So you’ve been manipulating me?” she said, anger in her voice.

I said nothing.  What was there to say?  Instead, I stood up and started washing my dish. 

Few words were spoken the rest of the night, and I left early.

 ****


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Allies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 10

 “You’re here because a human didn’t smell?” I asked of Marco and Jake, chewing on the popcorn.  The bowl was already half gone because I was sharing with Aximili.  And the rest of the children.

“He was a total black hole of no smell,” Marco said.

“Did you ever think the guy could have just taken a lot of showers?” Rachel said.  “I mean, just because you two smell doesn’t mean that is the actual requirement to being a guy.  Just a slob.”

“We were dogs.  You’ve been a wolf.  Their sense of smell is almost as good,” Jake said.

“What does it mean if a kid doesn’t smell like a human?” Tobias asked.

Rachel smiled.  “Maybe you guys just couldn’t smell him because the small monkey on Marco’s head is totally over-powering your nose.”

Cassie snorted.

Marco bristled.  “Hey, my stylist assures this is the peak of perfection.”

“Marco, you know what they say about mountains and molehills,” Rachel said sweetly.

“Is it a high peak?” Aximili asked.  “This mountain?”

I hid my smile.

Marco was laughing, after a moment’s pause.  “He made a joke!  Totally unintentional, but funny.”

“You should take notes,” Jake said.

Aximili looked around.  “What did I say?”

“Humans find humor is the strangest phrases,” I said.  “How did you find this human, or being, with no smell?”

Marco and Jake looked at each other, and I was a bit more curious.  “We were tracking possible Controllers,” Jake said.

“Yeah, exactly.  Doing our sacred duty and all,” Marco added.  “Like Buffy.”

“And where was this?”

“… It was at, you see, there was this concert …”

“You were totally went out and abused the morphing ability!” Rachel accused.

“You too, Jake,” Cassie added, giving the human in question a disappointed look.

I didn’t say anything, because the two females would do enough, though my expression said I was displeased as well.

“Hey, if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have learned about this guy.  This guy who is handing out flyers for _The Sharing_ ,” Marco defended.

“So he’s connected with the Yeerks,” Tobias agreed, perhaps showing male solidarity.

“But the Yeerk should smell, if he’s infested,” Cassie pointed out.

“We do not smell the Yeerk in other hosts – human, Hork-Bajir,” Aximili countered, licking his hand to get all of the butter off.  “Can we have more popcorn?”

I nodded and stood up, getting the microwave bag.  “Who is this person?”

“Erek King.  He used to go to our school,” Jake said.  “But he transferred out last year.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No, but we could trail him.  Go to the concert and find some clues.  Oh, god, I didn’t just turn into Nancy Drew, did I?” Rachel said.

“And you guys could hack into the records,” Marco said.

“Or we could look in a phone book,” Cassie countered with a sly grin.

I smiled and dug into the drawer by the phone.  “I don’t suppose anyone knows his parents name.”  No, of course they didn’t.  “Here, do any of these seem more likely?” I asked, turning the book towards them.

“These six seem are the only ones in the right area,” Cassie said, pointing them out.  “We can check and see if any of them are his house.”

“Or Aximili and I can hack into your school’s records, find his parents’ names, and do that.  If it comes to that, we could hack into his school’s records to get his address.”

“Why did you make us check the phone book?” Tobias asked.

The microwave dinged and I pulled the bag out with my fingertips, then shuffled the steaming bag between my hands.  “Honestly it just occurred to me.  Besides, his family might have an unlisted number.”  I looked over the names as I passed the butter-rich popcorn to my brother.  “We’ll break into his school records tonight and get the address.  Then we’ll figure out if we need to break into his house.”

“Do you think he’s an alien, a Frebreeze one or something?” Rachel asked.

“Frebreeze gets _rid_ of smells, not masks them,” Cassie said.

“It is possible.  Aximili and I will do surveillance on him during the school hours.  The rest of you will work in pairs for the remainder of the daylight hours.”

“For how long?” Tobias asked.  “Until we prove he’s a Controller or what?  I mean, we can’t tail him forever.”

That was true.  “Three days should be long enough to determine if he’s infested.  If he is, the Yeerks would know what he is.  For all we know, the Yeerks may be testing some anti-scent formula.  Though I do not know why.”

“Put the deodorant people out of business,” Marco commented.

“What school does he go to?” I asked.

“Truman,” Cassie said.

“After the 33rd United States of America president?” Aximili asked.

“… Sure.”

“Most likely,” I answered.  “We’ll tell you the address.”

 ****

Aximili broke into the school records and found the address, and we flew to the home.  I was immensely surprised to see that Erek King’s father was named Anthony King.  I wondered if it was the same Anthony King that had lived next door to Loren and me, though technically he had only lived there during the holidays.  He had been a good lawn-mower, though he should have been, with the amount of money I gave him.

At first I didn’t continue the idea that it was the same human.  There were probably many Anthony Kings in this city.  But then, flying over the house, peering into the window … it may have been eighteen years, but the face was too familiar.

I felt a pang.  I didn’t want Anthony King to be in danger, already taken by the Yeerks.  He had been a nice boy, his parents had been kind.  They’d visited Loren and me within two days, bringing food!  They even offered to get us a dog, but Loren said she had to train me first.  (I don’t know what she meant by that, though Mrs. King seemed to.) 

I slept on the thought, the memories, and the next morning I took first watch of this young human.  Aximili and I altered, because two Andalites were not needed to watch a human student sit in class.  Aximili would then be relieved by two of the children.

Therefore, I wasn’t surprised when the harrier appeared over my head.  ‹Hello, Aximili.›

‹Elfangor, he is something.  The others will be arriving soon.›

I blinked.  ‹What happened?›

‹Erek King … he got hit by a bus.›

‹Is he all right?›  I asked, concerned.

‹He is _fine_.  Completely.  He isn’t human.  I saw … I think I saw … he was some sort of machine.›

I blinked again.  ‹A machine?›

‹It is what we saw!› he defended, as if I would doubt his eyes.

My mind was racing.  If the Yeerks had machines that looked like humans … it was too ghastly to think about.  ‹Go to the house.  I’ll be there in a few minutes.›

At the house, Aximili told me everything he could – how, when Erek King was hit by the bus, suddenly he wasn’t there, but a grey and white machine.  It was only for a few seconds, and then he was human, again.  The children trickled in and waited with bated breath.

“Well?” Rachel finally demanded.  “Do you know what he is?”

“Not human seems to about cover it,” I said back.

“Yeah, but what?”

“Andalites do not know _every_ alien species in the universe,” Aximili said.

“Do you think the Yeerks made it?” Jake asked.

“I don’t want to believe it.”

“What about someone who got robotic things added to him?  Like that TV show,” Tobias suggested.

Aximili cleared his throat.  “I don’t believe it can be an organic creature, at least fully,” he said slowly, looking at me.  I indicated he should go on.  “Both Jake and Marco told us about its lack of scent, which could coincide with machinery that has not been handled by any sort of creator in a recent period.”

I nodded.  That made sense.

“And, from what I’ve seen, this machine is far beyond the grasp of Yeerks to have created without outside help,” he added.

“So … if they recently acquired this technology or another species that could wield this technology, why would they masquerade it as a human child?” I asked, mostly to myself.

“I want to know what happened to the real Erek King,” Marco interrupted.  “Did they kill him or something?”

“Or … or do you think that … that android was _always_ him?” Cassie suggested.

I was shocked at such a suggestion.  Such technology, always on Earth?  And then, connected to the King family?  Connected to Anthony King?

Tobias looked around.  “Well, on the bright side, the Yeerks probably don’t know about him.”  When we looked at him, he explained, “He got hit by a _bus_ and got up.  Do you really think if the Yeerks knew they had something like that, we wouldn’t have already met it?”

“On the field of battle,” Marco added, obviously quoting something, but I didn’t know what.

“Unless they just bought it at the hardware store,” Jake said.

“Why would they buy a kid?” Tobias said back.  “Or send him to school?  You got this powerful thing, you don’t hide it, especially if you’re Visser Three.”

Rachel nodded.  “Tobias is right.  Something like that, Visser Three wouldn’t have even bothered to read the instructions for.  Just programmed, _Kill bandits_.”

“If he is a machine, he had a hologram.  Why did it fail?” I asked, then answered my own question.  “He was hit by the bus.”

Aximili nodded.  “It overloaded him, temporarily.  But what could power him every day, hour after hour?”

“Maybe Erek’s gone nuclear,” Marco joked.

Aximili laughed – and I smiled – until he realized Marco was serious.  “I … I thought you were joking.  It is a very primitive means.”

“We need to see under this hologram,” I pronounced.  “It is still possible that it is a very strange alien.  You three saw it from a great distance.”

“Marco said Tom told him about a water-skiing thing, so Erek will probably be there.  We can try again,” Jake said.

“But how can we see through it?” Cassie asked.

Rachel agreed.  “We can’t hurl buses at him.”

“Little conspicuous,” Tobias said.

“But it would be fun.”

“The hologram was probably designed to fool human eyes,” Aximili pointed out.  “And, if it does hide among the Yeerks, Hork-Bajir, Taxxon, and Andalite eyes as well.”

My brother was right.  “Such eyes pick up similar wavelengths of light.  A completely different wavelength might see through the illusion.  We, in effect, need different eyes.”

Cassie was already thinking.  “Not mammals or birds, for sure.  Reptiles see basically the same thing.  I think some insects see different things.”

“Flies do,” Jake said.  “But they don’t see very well.”

“We want something with good vision.  Of course, bugs don’t have the greatest vision if they’re only an inch from the ground.”

“I’ll look up something with good vision,” Cassie promised.  “And some of us can be flies.”

“And some will be backup.”  I was already demoting me to that group.  Stupid translator chip!

 ****

Cassie told me about the choice, a wolf spider, and I agreed, because it was all I could do.  In the end the children decided to draw lots to see who would get to be the spider.  I deflected the job by saying I would monitor them, watch for troublesome Controllers.  Aximili would go with them.  He was knowledgeable and I trusted his opinion. 

I had been very amused by Marco’s math, and I had to correct his faulty thinking.  “Marco, you assumed the last straw picked will be the short straw.  However, _any_ of the straws drawn at any time have an equal chance of being the short straw.  In fact, what you did gave you the _highest_ probability of picking the short straw, because it put you in complete control and not reliant on another’s actions.”

“You couldn’t have said that _before_ I drew the straw,” he had whined.

We flew to the skiing event, and I wished the children well as we separated.  I didn’t get very far until Marco demanded, ‹Is he telling the truth?  Is my butt going to get side-swiped by a ship?›

‹Pardon?›

‹I merely told them about the very _slight_ chance of our mass being destroyed in Z-space, Elfangor,› Aximili defended.

‹Oh, that.›  I settled onto a branch and looked around at the area.

‹You mean it’s true?› Jake demanded.  ‹I’m already a fly!›

‹Marco, Jake, just find Erek King.  And Aximili, try not to tell them things that will scare them›

‹I will try.›

I chuckled to myself and their childish fears.  (Though, if I could become a bug, I might feel the fear a bit more personally.)  The lake was filled with humans, some having fun, some merely pretending.  And, ah, there was the human in question.  ‹Erek King is near a picnic table.  Marco, Aximili, go twenty-five degrees right.  Yes, now continue.›

As they approached, I waited with held breath, gripped the branch tighter.  There, they were there, they should see him, if he was strange.

‹It is an android, Elfangor,› my brother called.

‹Hey, Jake, if you see some shimmering thing, that’s our guy.›

I tried to find Jake, but there were too many flies around. 

‹I see one.  Whoa, and another one!›

‹There’s more than one?› Marco demanded.

Even I was shocked at such information.  I wasn’t prepared for _more_ machines.  I also wasn’t prepared for a giant bird to ingest Marco.  ‹Marco!›

He was screaming.  It terrified the crow that had just ingested him, made it fly away. The children were demanding to know what was happening, the humans were looking around curiously, the Controllers were arming Dracon beams.  I was already in the air, chasing it.  ‹Marco, a bird ate you.  Stop screaming!›

‹ _A bird just ate me!_ ›

I think he was trying to tell me he was entitled to be screaming.  Even still, it wasn’t helping.  I dove on the crow, aimed for the head and crushed it with a claw.  The body hung limply.  ‹Calm down Marco!  Start demorphing!›

‹Already on that!›

Indeed, he was. The dead body was getting heavier, but I was already on the ground.  Just in time, because suddenly Marco burst through like one of those horror pictures humans are so found of.  I should have told him to stop, but he had just been eaten.  He already might have been fatally wounded.

So I watched.  But I wasn’t distracted enough not to notice someone was coming.  ‹Marco, go back.  Someone is coming!›

‹NO!  I am so out of this morph!›

He was panicking, and it wasn’t helping.  Not when humans, possibly Controllers, could see him.  And then, there was the human.  Or android.  Erek King.

He did look like his father.  If his father was his father.

And there was _nothing_ I could do!  I was a goshawk, on the ground.  There was no time to demorph.  All I could do was puff my feathers up.

Erek King looked at us.  I could jump to the air and clawed him, give Marco a chance to at least run.  “Marco, didn’t you used to have longer hair?”  He noticed my stance.  “I will not tell the Yeerks about you.”

Was I supposed to take him at his word? 

A girl came up, and the robot made introductions. And then they didn’t tell the Controllers about us.  It was a point in their favor. 

‹Who are you?› I asked in a rather demanding tone.

“Are you Prince Elfangor?” Erek replied.

‹Are you currently androids in the employ of the Yeerks?› I replied.  They knew my secrets, I knew theirs.  I could only hope they actually were secrets.

“You know what we are?” Jenny asked.

‹I know what you could be.  What I do not know is if I can trust you.›

“We could have called for the Controllers.  Or I could tell Visser Three about Marco, be his new best friend,” Erek said evenly.

‹But you won’t.  Not because of any loyalty to us, but because Visser Three’s best friends have an annoying tendency to get their heads lopped off when they stop being his new best friend.  Not helpful if you want to be unknown to the Yeerks.›  I was bluffing.  So terribly bluffing.

“Perhaps they already know about us,” he said.

‹But they don’t.›  By my tail, I hoped not.

“Do you know where I live?”

‹We can figure it out.›  I looked at Marco.  ‹Morph and leave.›

He looked between the both of us, before turning to osprey and taking to the air.  I could literally feel his apology for possibly putting all of us in danger.

“Come to my house tonight.”

‹And walk into an ambush?› I demanded, fluttering to the air to look down from a tree.

“If I wanted you captured, I would have told them about Marco.  Visser Three would have broken him.  You know that.”

Yes. I did.

“It is not what you think, Prince Elfangor.  It will be a meeting of allies.  We fight the Yeerks.”

I looked down at him severely.  ‹You do not fight the Yeerks when you add to their numbers.  But we will come.›  I wanted to threaten him, that if it was a trap, he would never be safe from me.  But what could I say that would scare an android that had been hit by a bus and remained undamaged? 

 ****

We were probably the only warriors that came by minivan.  Even I realized there was something vaguely humiliating about it.  But the fact was we wouldn’t all fit in the convertible.  We barely fit in the minivan.

Rachel demanded being back-up, certain her grizzly could take whatever they were.  I didn’t think so, but if it made her feel better. 

So we went to the door and knocked.  I did a double-take when Anthony opened the door.  For a moment, he looked like _his_ father.  “Come in,” he invited.

He didn’t even recognize or remember me.  I think that shocked me, but it was foolish, because _no one_ remembered me.

I inclined my head as we stepped inside. For a moment, I nearly made a comment about the house being lovely, but then we were greeted by two dogs.  “You always did like dogs, Anthony,” I commented.

Mr. King gave me a strange look, while the children petted the eager things.  “Is Erek here, Mr. King?” Marco asked.

The parent nodded before asking if we would like some beverages.  Cassie declined before I had to tell my brother no.  He led us through the kitchen and to the basement.  Aximili and I started demorphing, because, if this was a trap, I was not going to be helpless. Our clothing was left in a small pile. Mr. King waited for us to be finished, before he turned the floor into an elevator.  I felt the sinking sensation in my stomach.  We followed Mr. King through one of the walls and down the hallway.

And when the doors opened, I admit I was speechless at the sight of all of the dogs.  Perhaps a thousand of them, running around.  ‹I think you took joining the kennel club a bit too literally.›  I hoped it was aplomb.  A Prince cannot act too surprised at surprises.

There were less than a dozen of the silver and white androids walking around, caring for the canines.  One of the androids approached us, and when the hologram came up, it was Erek.  “Welcome.  You’re probably a little surprised.”

‹Only that P.E.T.A. is not here scolding you for so many dogs in such a small area,› I replied.  Though it really wasn’t a small area.  It was a huge area, a park larger than any Andalite Dome.  Perhaps it was enough room for all of the dogs.  At the reminder of the creatures, I made a mental note to watch where I walked.

The android looked at me, surprised at my comment.  “All of our dogs are given the best care.”

“Rubber bone for all of them,” Marco tried.

The father and son gave each other a nod and Mr. King departed.  Erek indicated we should follow him to a tree, and once there, the sound of dogs barking dimmed.  (Thankfully!  Some of them were especially yippy!)  “We are the Chee.”

‹You are androids,› I said.

“Yes.”

‹You have a very high level of technological sophistication,› Aximili added.

The Chee appeared modest.  “We are but the product of our creatures.  They are the true genius.”

“Why are you showing all this to us?” Jake asked.

“We want you to trust us.  You are suspicious of us; you have to be.  No doubt you left some of your people outside, just in case we betray you.  I want us to be equal.  I want you to know our secrets, since we know yours.”

‹And what do you know?› I asked.  ‹Aside from the obvious,› I added.  I didn’t need him telling me he knew I had recruited these children.

For a moment, he looked a little exasperated.  “Isn’t it enough that we know their names?”

‹I am determining how many of our secrets you know.  If you are going to claim to know all of them, you had better.›

“Perhaps if I told you our story, you would not be so suspicious of us.”

“Don’t count on it.  Elfangor eats a hearty bowl of suspicious for breakfast,” Marco said.  “And lunch and dinner. And don’t forget snacks.”

Erek smiled.  “You would see that some of us want to help.”

Help rarely went one way.  That was a lesson all Princes learned.

The world around us shifted as Erek told his tale of his creatures, the Pemalites.  How they were much older than Andalites – though I was pretty sure we knew how to make _fire_ at that time, or at least knew enough to keep it going! – and humans, how kind and innocent they were, how they made the Chee for companions.  And then, how a race called the Howlers destroyed them, a race that would not fight back. I admit, I felt sick at the images, the sheer brutality. Desperate for choices now, how they returned to Earth and put the essence of the remaining Pemalites into wolves, made the domestic dog.

“So you hide as humans?” Marco asked.

Erek nodded and explained the depth at which they did.  And I realized Anthony King had been an android all those years ago, and his parents.  From on the other side of the fence, they were androids playing at being human.  Hiding.  Like what I was doing now, what I had done then.  Andalite playing human.

“How long you been doing this?”

“I helped to build the great pyramind.”

“You designed them?”

He smiled.  “No, of course not.  We have never interfered in human affairs.”

I gave a soft snort.  ‹Like Ellimists never interfere,› I said to myself.  The very act of _being_ causes interference, despite what someone might claim.  How could _anyone_ think they could never interfere with humans, who drew their inspiration from all around them?  A casual word might have changed the universe.

“So you could have taken over Egypt,” Tobias said.

Erek’s voice was cold.  “No, we are not the Yeerks.  When our creators made us, they hardwired us for nonviolence.  We are not capable of hurting another living being.  No Chee has ever taken a life.”

 _Intentionally_ , I thought.  I wondered how many had died by their inaction.  Their creators, yes, but how many others?   Perhaps it wasn’t fair to think such thoughts, not of a being who could manage without killing another, but it was a poor claim to say you never took a life when you could have saved lives if you had.  But my musings were interrupted when I saw four Chee approach us very quickly, and Erek looked annoyed.

“What have you done?  What have you done, you fool?” one demanded.

They looked at us with their android eyes.  “What have you told them?”

This was interesting.  Malcontent in the robotics division.  

“Everything,” Erek said definitely.  “These are the ones who have been resisting the Yeerks, who can morph.  They are the ones fighting the battle we should fight!”

I snapped my eyes to him.  I would never make that claim.  You did not send children into battles.  And that is what these Chee were, even more so because of their innocent programming, if it was as they claimed.

“We were Chee.  We do not fight.”  The android turned on its hologram and looked like an old woman. She looked vaguely like one of my college English professors. “I am Chee-lonos.  My human name, for now, is Maria.  I did not mean to seem angry at you humans, or you, Andalite friends. My dispute is with this Chee called Erek and some of his friends.”

Erek was standing with the passion I have seen in countless beings.  “We stood by helplessly, uselessly when the Howlers destroyed our creatures.  We can’t do the same on Earth.  Dogs and humans are intertwines, have evolved a dependency.  If humans are destroyed, dogs will die, and with them the Pemalites.”

I have heard of silly things, but to fight to save dogs ….

Well … perhaps it was no worse than fighting to save Cinnabons.  Not that I would ever claim that.

Maria continued angrily.  “We do not fight or kill.  You know that, Erek, and yet you bring these outsiders here.  You blurt the secrets we have kept for thousands of years.  Why?  What good will come from it?  We cannot fight to save the humans.”

But Erek disagreed.  “While you hide, others have been infiltrating the Yeerks.  And we can fight, now.  The Yeerks control a company called Matcom.”  I recognized the name of the company.  It was a human company interested in new technology, and I was moderately aware the Yeerks ran it.  “They are working on a master computer to infiltrate and rewrite all the software in all the computers on Earth.  When they have achieved sufficient force among humans, they will launch this computer bomb, and, in a flash, control all computers.  They received a crystal from a trader, far more advanced than Andalite technology.  And this crystal they are using is over fifty-thousand years old.”

“A Pemalite crystal!” Maria gasped.

Erek nodded.  “Yes.  And with this crystal we could rewrite our programming, assist these fighters.”  Ah, that would be the part where we help them.  “There is little the Yeerks could do to stop us!”  He looked at me to plead his case.  “If you get it, we will be a great boon to you.”

Maria disagreed.

‹How have you fooled the Yeerks?›

He turned off his hologram, became his truth self, and the front of his head opened.  There, nestled inside, was a grey slug, a Yeerk with wires attacked to it.

‹Yeerk,› Aximili hissed.

“Yes.  The Yeerks believe I am human.  I have accepted infestation.  But I cannot be a Controller, so I made a place for him.  He sees and knows nothing.  I tap his memories and I pass among the Yeerks.”

I was nearly sneering, but I regained myself.  He was almost a Collaborator.  To accept a Yeerk for any reason.

But, it was tempting.  These Chee, they could fight, could offer a turn.  But then again, they were children.  Worse, they were children who thought they understood what they were going to do.  They would not listen to me.

Not that I was the best to listen to.  I could admit that.  I wasn’t a great leader, but I was a good one.  And I understood this life, at least better than these peaceful machines.

“How do you keep the Yeerk alive without any Kandrona rays?” Cassie asked.

“I can generate Kandrona rays to keep the Yeerk alive.  I trick the Yeerks into thinking he leaves me every three days by using a hologram.  The Yeerks do not often communicate in their natural state.”

I sighed.  ‹You said you wished our help.  What do you want us to do?›

Erek turned eager and excited.  “We could become allies, fight against the Yeerks together.  But first we need the Pemalite crystal.  But the Yeerks have a maze of defenses to the crystal, kept at the center of the Matcom building.  Hork-Bajir are everywhere, the best Visser Three has.  And the crystal itself is guarded by an ingenious system, concealed in a room of absolute darkness – any type of light will set off an alarm.  And there are wires that will be set off at the faintest touch.”

‹So you wish us to do a nearly impossible task?  Get something you could get yourselves?› I asked.

“The Chee do not do violence!” Maria protested.

I glared at her.  ‹There is no _violence_ in sleep gas or trapping them in another part of the building.  There is _no violence_ in removing the power.  There is _no violence_ in using your holograms to hide yourselves, your obvious computer knowledge to work around it.›  I looked at Erek.  ‹You wish us to risk our lives doing something you could do yourselves if you put planning into it!›

“But someone might be hurt,” he protested.

‹Someone _will be hurt_ when the crystal is stolen,› I countered.  ‹What about the Controllers running this place?  Do you think Visser Three will react _kindly_ to their failure?›  Then I shrugged.  ‹Then again, someone will be hurt if the crystal stays in Yeerk hands.  They certainly aren’t working to save puppies. Is your _nonviolence_ programming obeyed so long as you are not around to see the violence taking place because of your action?›

“Elfangor,” Cassie scolded quietly.

“You mock us,” Maria hissed.  “We who have caused no harm, none of us, to another living creature.  No other creature can claim that!”

There was the very _not subtle_ message that she criticizing me, but her words were too … I drew straight up and approached her, but she did not back away.  ‹You are too bold and too stupid to make that claim, unworthy of it,› I spat.  ‹What of the trees?  The grass, the plants?  Are they not alive?  Do they not speak, or feel?  Or can you not hear them?  Or your so innocent, kind creators?  You dare _claim_ to be the only creature that has not harmed another, here and now, when you are nothing but machines?›

“… Umm, Elfangor, okay, let’s back away from the really powerful android now,” Marco said.

I did so, not before saying, ‹And just because you do not see the blood on your hands does not mean it is not there.› 

“My friend did not to insult you, Prince Elfangor,” Erek said.

Maria appeared embarrassed and apologetic, but she stayed to her argument.  “… I might have spoken hastily.  But no Chee had ever harmed another, taken a life.  Would you give Erek the chance to destroy that?”

There was something in that sentence, I felt it, but I was still angered.  ‹If he wished it, I would.  Because …›  And then the sentence bounced in my brain and I stopped, turned to look at Erek with my main eyes.

“Elfangor?” Tobias asked.

“What’s wrong?” Jake added.

‹You can change your programming,› I said distantly to Erek.

“I could.”

‹The Yeerks are going to use the crystal to control all of the computers, rewrite them as well and gain control.›

“Yeah, that’d be what the android said,” Marco said.

‹Elfangor, what is it?›

I looked at the Chee, all of them present.  ‹Answer me truthfully, answer me honestly – could the programming reach, could it infiltrate the Andalite homeworld?›

Aximili gasped as he suddenly saw it as well.  I continued.

‹Could it be used on the other worlds the Yeerks are attacking?  Leera.  Outposts.  Andalite Dome ships.  Could the Yeerks use it, send it from a distance, and gain control of the computers and weapons on those worlds, those ships?  Could it order the ships to self-destruct, the weapons turned on the civilians?›

Their faces blanched, even the ones without the holograms.  Such monumental horror had never occurred to them.  I wasn’t surprised.  Programmed for nonviolence, they did not think as the violent did.  (And I suppose since I thought of such a thought, it did not reflect well on me.)  They probably thought once a treaty was made, it would last, be obeyed without fail. 

“Prince Elfangor, the Yeerks have no means of doing that,” Erek said in a quiet voice, desperate, hopeful that such a thing would never come to pass.

‹Yet.›  Because it would be a matter of time.  They didn’t even need to find a way to get the programming there by force.  Take an outpost, use the computers, send it through proper channels.  It could spread like a plague, and we would be destroyed.

“So we’re definitely going to get this crystal,” Jake said.

“Because, you know, saving earth wasn’t enough.  Now we have to save the _universe_ ,” Marco agreed.

‹And the Chee,› I said in a quiet voice, still lost in thought.

“You want us to fight, would make us fight for you,” Maria demanded.

Aximili stepped in.  ‹You misunderstand my brother.  It is so you are not made to fight for the Yeerks.›

‹You would be the next Hork-Bajir.›

“I don’t understand,” Cassie said.  “How could they ...”

‹If Earth is taken, it will only be a matter of time before the Chee are found.›

“We have hidden for thousands of years,” one of the unnamed Chee spoke.

I took over, spoke in a low, even tone, like I was explaining it to a child, but I wasn’t patronizing.  Just spoke to make them see.  ‹You were hiding from humans, humans who had no means to even learn of you.  Now, imagine the Yeerks are here.  Yes, it may be years before you are discovered.  You will go into hiding, be Collaborators.  But one day, they will learn what you are.  We knew what you were, or at least that you were not human, before you learned of us.  If Marco had not been eaten, you still would not know who we are.  We weren’t following Erek because we thought he was a Controller, we weren’t at the park monitoring events.  We were there because we wanted to know what you were.  And we did.

‹And when the Yeerks learn of you, they will capture you.  You will not fight back, will not harm them.  They will use the crystal and rewrite your program without your permission.  They won’t care about your morals, your peace, your pacifist nature.  They took the Hork-Bajir, simple gardeners of tree bark, because in their hands, they were weapons.  You would be the replacement, the upgrade.  They will turn you into murderers and you will kill even while you internally scream against it.  They may even rewrite you so you enjoy the kill, so you become like those … those Howlers.›  I looked at them.  ‹There is more than one way to be infested.›

There was a quiet for a very long time.

“That’s our Elfangor.  Knows how to give a great speech,” Marco said, shaky, desperately trying to make light.  “You should have heard _our_ recruitment speech.”

“We have to get it,” Jake repeated, sounding a bit sick at the prophesy.

“But we cannot join this fight,” Maria pleaded.  I think she was shocked that there was a way she could be forced to kill.  “You would not make us killers?”

‹I have made many people killers,› I said.  ‹But this … this is not my choice.  I am not going to get this crystal because I care about your perfect history or wish to destroy it, but because I will not let my people be slaughtered.  Though I do not even know how we can get this crystal.›

“Umm … I might have an idea about that,” Cassie said.

That would be our Cassie.

“You won’t regret this,” Erek vowed.

I looked at him with a stalk.  ‹Probably not.  Will you, though?  How many battle fields have you been on?  Walked among the dead?  But not of your side.  The enemies.  Killing the survivors, because it is a mercy to them.  To see the bodies you cut up.  To have the images in your head before you go to sleep each night, of their faces just before you ended their life.  Will you regret that?  I do, and I have never been programmed for nonviolence.›

“You … you are telling him not to?” Maria said, surprised.

‹I am telling him the same thing I told the children before I asked them to fight,› I said.  ‹I do not know how you see this battle, but I know how I see it.  And I know how I saw it before my first kill.  I do not know how you think it will be, Erek King, but it will be hell.›

“I understand that.”

‹No.  You don’t.›  I sighed at his face.  ‹You are innocent, even more so than these children.  They are human, mortal.  They understand things die, they will die.  They evolved from prey and predator.  Live or die.  You, the Chee … there is nothing there to draw from.  You are supposed to be computers, cleverer than me, and yet you did not comprehend the true atrocities that your Pemalite crystal could wreak until they were pointed out.  Because you cannot.  You are not programmed to.›

“Why are you trying to convince me not to fight?” he demanded.

“Yeah, why?” Marco agreed.  “Elfangor, with these guys on our side, we have a chance!”

Yes, we would, but it was just with more children.  But I didn’t get a chance to respond, because Erek cocked his head.  “One of your friends has joined us.”

“Rachel,” Tobias said.

“Oh, man.”

“We have been down here a long time,” Jake said.

‹And Rachel has never been patient.  We will take our leave of you,› I said.

We left the dog-park and went back the way we came, following Erek.  Once in the basement, Aximili and I morphed and redressed, while I called to Rachel to stop whatever damage she was causing as the others ran up the stairs.  Her roars ended.

‹Where have you been?!  I’ve been waiting as long as I could!  I thought you guys were dead or something!›

‹My apologizes.  Demorph,› I said as I helped Aximili tie his shoes. 

When we were upstairs, the other children were already filling Rachel in.  Apparently Mr. King had held Rachel’s grizzly still and it had impressed the girl. 

“Tell us what you can learn of Matcom,” I said to Erek.  “And we will get you the crystal.”

“Thank you.”

I looked at him.  Maybe he did understand his choice.  Or at least maybe he understood it as much as the humans had.

He must have understood my expression.  “You think I am making a mistake.”

“You will make a mistake in either choice.  I agree, you will be a great asset.  We will have a chance to win Earth.  I should not presume to doubt your choice, but I know war, the experiences and feelings.”  I looked over at the human children, playing with the pets.  “Do you think I am proud I have brought them into this?  Yes, the Yeerks are here, their lives would have been bleak if they win, but there is something to be said about ignorance.  It is bliss.”

“I stood by unable to help while my creators were brutally slaughtered,” Erek said.

“If they had wanted to, they could have changed your programming.  They chose their death long ago.  This won’t bring them back.”

“It will save what is left of them.”

“Curious.  By destroying their legacy.”

“You _don’t_ want me to do it,” he hissed.

I shook my head.  “No, I want it very much.  What I don’t want is for you to do what _Aristh_ Apinahola did.”

“What did he do?”

“Some of us are not made for war.  He was not my _aristh_ , but a fellow warrior’s; there was nothing very memorable about him.  Just a regular _aristh_ , but apparently he was a musician of sorts, had a great sense of humor.  It was after his first battle. He was part of a boarding party on a captured Yeerk vessel.  He acted finely, didn’t flinch in the battle at all, according to the superior officer. Two days later, he was dead. Of course records show it was an accident.  But there is little accident when an Andalite slices his own throat, even if he is tossed in an explosion.  Especially an explosion caused by purposefully faulty wiring.”

“You believed he killed himself.”

I shrugged.  “What I believe is that it was so soon after his first kill.  His mind could just as likely have been distracted in his actions after the first mission.  There is something … hypnotizing about all that blood on the deck and on your tail.  Like being in a dream.  I ran away from such evidence after my first kill.  But I still remember it.  Not the details, of course.  I wasn’t able to comprehend much during it.  But sometimes, in some battles, all you see are the details and they stay with you.  And I do not doubt they stayed with _Aristh_ Apinahola until he died.”

“Why are telling me this?”

“You asked.  While I want you for an asset, greatly desire it, I have to make sure you _will be_ one.  That means making sure you won’t give yourself a fatal error, as it were.  For all I know, maybe your Pemalites made it so you will shut down if your program is changed.  That there will be no mistake, that you will not forget we are your allies and kill us.” Then I shrugged.  “And I worry for you.”

Erek gave me a strange look.  “I am centuries older than you.  I may look like a child, but I’m not.”

“I am aware of that.  But, in this, you will be a child.  It is one thing to observe history.  It is another to be part of it.  If it makes you feel better, I only worry about you as far as it will influence me.”

“Oddly, it doesn’t.  I’ll call when I get any information.”

“Good.  Have a pleasant evening.”

We left and got into the minivan.  I would drive each of them home, though we would first go to Cassie’s to determine the creature she thought we could use.  They were busy filling in Rachel.

“Elfangor, we need them,” she said, leaning forward so that her face was alongside mine.  “They could totally help us.  They’re super-strong, have the technology, and are already infiltrating _The Sharing_.  They double our chances.  End of story.”

“Rachel, please sit back and put on your seat beat.”

“And it’s _not_ end of story,” Cassie countered.  “No Chee ever took a life.  Do you want to be known a thousand years from now as the people that made them into killers?”

“Just because we give them the means does not mean we make them killers,” I said.  “Giving someone a gun does not mean they use it.  It increases the probability, but it does not make them.  Do you think, if they could have gotten their crystal alone or years ago, it would be our fault if they chose to use it?”

“But we are helping them _now_ ,” she said.

She was taking it too personally, I felt. 

“Hey, you know what I want?” Marco interrupted.  “A thousand years from now, I don’t want people to go, you know those humans?  Too bad they went the same way as the Pemalites.”

“What about the rest of you?” I asked, curious as to how they stood.  “Jake?”

“He would be a lot of help,” he said, giving Cassie an apologetic glance.  “And he wants to.”

Tobias said, “We still have to get the crystal to stop the Yeerks doing what they are.  I mean, what they do with the crystal after that, isn’t that up to the Chee?”

“Exactly.  They’re thousands of years old,” Rachel said.

“They have to be responsible for their own mistakes.  And I think I just sounded like my dad,” Marco said.

“But we don’t have to help them make mistakes,” Cassie said. 

“It’s their crystal,” Tobias said.  “Do you think we should just not give it to them, because they might make a mistake?”

“No, no,” she said.  “But we’re pressuring them.”

“They’re androids!” Marco scoffed.  “They’re immune to peer-pressure.  And Erek wants to.  We’re not pressuring him to do anything!”

“Is it just one Chee that wants to change its programming?” Aximili asked.

“I think there’s more than Erek that want to,” Marco answered.

“But not all of them?”

“Based on Maria and her friends, I’d say no.”

“Why are you asking?” I asked my brother.

“Everyone is speaking in absolutes, as if all the Chee will alter their programming, all of them will kill.  While I feel badly about helping another species become violent, especially one as ancient as the Chee, we are only helping individuals.  Not the species.”

“They are computers.  It is usually absolute with them, no greys,” I said after a moment.  “If one changes, they all do, or they feel it.”

I pulled into Cassie’s driveway and by the barn.  Everyone got out and followed inside.  Cassie was going into the corner and came back holding a small cage.  “Total darkness, can’t touch the walls or floor, can get around invisible wires.  Meet the animal that can do all that.”

“Cool.  First I was Spiderman, now I’ll be Batman.”

I examined the small creature.  The only thing I knew was that bats could carry rabies.  “A bat.”

Cassie nodded.  “They pick up sounds that bounce off things.”

“Do they have a gland or something in their brains?”

She giggled a little.  “No.  They make squeaks.  With their mouths.”

“How much can they carry?”

“Ummm … I’ll find out.  But I think they can carry their young, at least.  ”

There was a question I had never asked the Chee.  “Did any of them mention how _big_ this crystal is?”

“I don’t think so,” Jake said.

I stood up.  “We have to find out.  This bat might be too small.”

“But if we’re too big, we might hit the wires,” Rachel said.  “And where are we going to get giant bats anyway?  We’re going to be stuck with these guys.”

“Perhaps.  We have time to decide if that’s the case.”

“We should acquire this guy while we have the chance, anyway,” Cassie said.  “He just banged into someone’s window.  We’re going to release him in a day or two.”

Her argument made sense and each of us acquired the little brown bat.  I was very relieved that neither of her parents came to check on her.

“Well, let’s get the rest of you home.  I will call Erek King and _try_ to think of something about this.”

We bid Cassie good-bye and I took each of them home.  Jake first, then Rachel. At Marco’s, the boy sat for a moment.  “Elfangor, not to add any pressure or anything, but we’ve got to take this company down.”

I turned to look back at him.  “Of course we do.  This crystal –”

“No, it’s not just that.  Before, when I called Jake, Tom said … they’re after my dad!” he spat.  “Just because he might work there.  I won’t let that happen.  If we get this crystal-thing, maybe the company will fall apart.”

“We’ll do our best, Marco.  Good night.”

Finally, we stopped at Tobias’.  While it wasn’t in the best sort of building, not like the other children’s homes, it was at least a house.  Under-cared for and slightly unsafe, but a house.

“This is me.  See you guys,” he said with a sort of embarrassed lightness and hopped out.

Both of us bid good-bye and drove away, and I noticed Tobias waved at us until we were out of sight.

“Elfangor?”

“Yes, Aximili?”

“Do you think it is … right for us to interfere with the Chee?”  No doubt Andalite law was preying on his mind.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Honestly, I do not look at it as interfering, at least not strongly.  If the crystal was no so extremely guarded, the Chee would have retrieved it themselves.”

He nodded.  “I guess.  And they will be a boon in the fight.”

“If they don’t self-destruct themselves.”  I turned down the road.  “Don’t misunderstand me – I would not say no to any of them joining us.  But they are, ultimately, machines.  They function and see things differently than we do.”

“Do they?”

“Well, I am making an assumption,” I admitted.  “Tasteless, speciesist, perhaps, but I’m erring on what I hope is caution.”

Again he nodded.  “I have never been in Tobias’ home.”

“I believe few have.  He finds it embarrassing.”

“Why?”

I struggled to find the right words.  “Tobias’ situation is … delicate.  His father died before he was born, and his mother disappeared shortly after.  For much of his life, he’s been shuffled from one aunt and uncle that divorced.  Several states separate the two, so it does not seem to have been a very amiable parting.  I would suggest that his guardians merely pass him back and forth to bother each other.  Neither are especially fond of him.”

“That is … that is repulsive.”  He was quiet.  “I did not know.  Did he tell you?”

“No, no, of course not,” I said with a small chuckle.  “I did extensive research on each of the children before I approached them.  And he would not mention it either.  Having such a family situation embarrasses him.”

“I see.”

The rest of our ride was in silence.  At the house, Aximili bade me a good-night before disappearing off to the forest while I set out to calling Erek and figuring out a viable plan. 

As I did so, I realized one of the next orders of business would to be buy a cordless phone.  I had always hated the limits the cord gave one – usually it only allowed on to _just_ reached the refrigerator handle.  There was also the issue of it tangling around one’s legs.

His number was listed in the book, and it was answered before the third ring.  There was dog barking in the background, and then Mr. King’s voice answered.  “Hello.”

“Hello. I’m sorry for the hour, but if I could speak to your son about his missing object, I would be much appreciative,” I said, vague enough that those eavesdropping wouldn’t understand and those who knew would.  Then I winced at my rudeness. 

“Just a moment.  Erek.”  For a moment, there was the hold music composed of dog barking, and then Erek’s voice.

“Erek here.”

“Hello.  That object you are looking for, how big is it?”

“I didn’t mention that, did I?”  He sounded amused and a bit contrite.  “It’s the size a small grape and weighs about the same.”

“What type of grape?” I asked, because I knew – I had done extensive … _research_ on this all those years ago – there were many types.

“It weighs about two ounces and is approximately one inch long, half an inch wide.”

“I see.”  I made a note of that.  “This should help.”

“Anything I can do.”

I paused.  “What do you know about bats?  Specifically a brown bat native to this area.”

“None of us are experts in bats.”

“But I’ll wager any of you would know more than me.  Could they get through this maze you mentioned?”

“I think so.  I know personally they can get through many small spaces and the dogs enjoy barking at them.  When they notice them, that is.”

“I see.  Anyway, thank you for this information.  I’ll let you get back to bed.”

“No problem.  Can I call you on this number if I think of anything else?”

I paused.  It honestly hadn’t occurred to me until just then how much danger I had just placed myself in.  Stupid, unthinking fool that I was, I had done this without realizing the consequences.  They had my number; they could then figure out my address.  We were too new of allies – if we were even that – for such a thing to sit comfortably on me.  But it was too late to do anything about it.  “Yes.  And the corresponding address is also viable.  Have a good evening.”

I hung up before he could respond in like, then hit my forehead against the phone.  “Terrific.  Robots in disguise.”  This was not pleasant.  I needed chocolate.

 ****

There was something dreadful about phone calls.  Especially ones that required to me morph, bounce down the stairs, and not even the good stairs, the ones that were open.   No, I had to fall down the one that was completely walled in and narrow, and lay I tangled on the floor.  And _then_ the answering machine picks up.  Another note to self – buy three more phones!  Or at least one to go in the master bedroom.

“… guess you’re not in.  I’ll call Marco, but that thing we were going to do, I think we should move it to tonight.”

Great!  Ow, elbow, knees, hurt.  Why the sudden change in the plan, I wondered as I limped over to the table.  Ellimists, I was bleeding.  Red blood. There was still something vaguely disconcerting about the color, even after my previous years as a human.  I knew why it was red – the iron hemes – but _red_ blood?  It was wrong.  The only proper color’s blue. 

Not opinion.  Fact.

I sighed and got back to my feet and limped to the sink.  First I had to wash the blood off my hand before I would replay the message.  After listening, I hadn’t missed much.  I sat back down at the table and flexed my knee, working through the pain.  I’d call the android in fifteen minutes, in case he would speak for a long time, or perhaps call the rest of the children. 

During the wait, I checked the foods in the kitchen and made it so a few of them wouldn’t have to worry about expiring.  Then I made a shopping list, putting it on the refrigerator with a magnet shaped like a daisy. 

The King phone number was dialed from memory – why humans had such difficulty remembering seven numbers, I never understood.  Erek answered.  “It’s me.  Why are you advancing the schedule?”

“It’s necessary. There are new … issues.”

I sighed.  “Very well.  Are we meeting at any time?”

“I suggested to Marco we could meet at eleven.  He suggested your house.”

“Very well.  Have you contacted the others?”

“Marco was going to call them.”

“Very well.  I will tell my brother.  Until then.”  Contact severed, I squeezed the bridge of my nose.  This couldn’t be good.  To go into battle tonight, with hardly any preparation.

I went out into the woods, demorphed, and hunted out my brother.  At least I could dine the proper way, though there wasn’t the same satisfaction when I ate as a human.  Aximili was watching television, something that amused me, though he quickly ceased when he saw me.

‹Elfangor!›  I think he tried to subtly turn the television off, and I momentarily wondered what he had been watching. 

‹Something is happening.  Come to the house at eleven tonight.›

‹What is going on?›

Alongside him, I indicated my unawareness.  ‹I assume the android wishes us to retrieve the crystal tonight, but I don’t know his reasons.›  For a moment, I pondered teasing him about using the television, but it wouldn’t be nice or especially appropriate in light of the current situation.  ‹I was hoping at least for a chance to try these bat morphs, to see if they can even pick up a crystal.›

‹Cassie said it could probably carry something equivalent to its young,› Aximili pointed out.

‹I’m not worried about carrying it.  From what Erek said, I think the form could manage the additional weight.  But I don’t know if its feet have the muscles or ability to hold on it the crystal.  I already determined we can’t carry it in the bat’s jaws.›

‹Why not?›

‹Three hours of internet searching.  Not especially productive, but I learned the basics of bat physiology.  If the crystal is held in the mouth, the bat can’t emit the sounds it needs to sense its surroundings.›

‹Ahh, I see.  And you didn’t find any information about the feet?›

‹I know bats can hang upside down, that they rest that way.›

‹How curious.›

I nodded.  ‹Also, apparently they cannot fly directly from the ground.  They must fall and catch the air.›

‹That would be a problem if we morph them.  Can they climb?›

‹Reasonably so, as long as there are grips.  But I can’t be certain.›

Aximili voiced what I had been pondering.  ‹What if this creature cannot hold the crystal with its hind legs?›

‹I do not know.  Most of last night was spent trying to find another creature that would meet the requirements to get past the defenses.  Needless to say, it was a fruitless endeavor.  It was too much to hope Earth would have another creature that would meet our requirements.›

‹Could we make a basket or pouch to hold the crystal?›

‹We don’t have time.  With a basket, we risk hitting the wires.  Already we risk it with the wings.  And I don’t think any of us have the expertise to construct a pouch that would hold the crystal and not impede with the flight.  A pity bats aren’t marsupials.›

‹What is a marsupials?›

‹An animal, a mammal, that has a pouch to hold its young.  The bat’s young just cling to the parent’s fur.›

‹Interesting.›  He kicked a hoof.  ‹Could we merely fight our way out?›

I gave a little laugh at the idea.  ‹We have no idea about the room it is kept it.  It could be concrete and steel. We could not be able to escape.  And even if we can get from the room, I don’t relish the idea facing an unknown but certainly high number of Controllers who _will_ be armed with automatic weapons and/or Dracon weapons.  In a small space such as a room or corridor, we would be, as the humans say, fish in a barrel.  And, if we get past them, we shall have to deal with a specially-trained Hork-Bajir squad.  Perhaps five on top of the humans, we could manage, but I wouldn’t hope to get lucky.  Add to that the other defenses that could be present, it doesn’t look promising.›

‹No.  No, it doesn’t.›  He sounded a little frightened by my rundown.  One thing I’ve learned in my tenure – figure out what you’re probably going to face; triple it and prepare for that if you want to live. And hope what you face isn’t quadruple what you figured. At the moment, I wasn’t sure how to prepare for one shot from a high-powered rifle or Dracon beam, let along three.  ‹So we must tell Erek we cannot do it?›

‹Not _tonight_ , if that’s what he suggests.  At least, not without a very good idea.›

‹The humans … they are creative,› Aximili said with a great confidence, hopeful as only the young can be.

‹Someone better be, otherwise the Yeerks will get the crystal for another night.›  And the one night could be the start of forever.

 ****

When Erek arrived, the rest of the children were already present and eating some fruit I had sliced, and he didn’t waste any problems.  “There’s a problem.”

“Houston, you getting this.  We have a problem,” Marco joked before eating the apple slice.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The Yeerks are putting a brand new security system on top of the existing systems.  It’s not active yet, but I can’t find out what it is.”

“So we wait until you find out,” Tobias said, giving a small yawn.  “It’s no big deal.”

Erek disagreed.  “The crystal is already so well-protected that any new system may make it impossible to get.  And the Yeerks want to use it to take over every computer on Earth.  The longer we wait …” He trailed off meaningfully.

“Man, I thought we’d get to practice this,” Marco whined.

“I can tell you everything I know.  It’s not too complicated.”

I interrupted him.  “We can’t do it.”

Everyone looked at me, and Erek almost looked betrayed.  “But Elfangor, we got to do this,” Jake argued.

“We can’t let the Yeerks use that thing,” Rachel agreed.

“We got to destroy that company!” Marco was especially vehement. 

I raised my hand.  “It’s too dangerous.”

Cassie frowned.  “How?  We can use the bat morph to get the crystal.  They won’t even know we were there.”

“Provided we don’t die on the way,” Tobias pointed out.

“The bats seem like a good idea,” Erek agreed.

I took a sip of my Dr. Pepper.  “And how do they carry the crystal?”

That got everyone to be quiet for a moment.  “Bats don’t have hands,” Cassie pointed out.

“It’s easy.  We’ll carry it in our mouths,” Rachel dismissed.

“And then that person won’t be able to vocalize squeaks it needs to fly,” my brother pointed out.

“That’s right,” Cassie said, growing dismayed.  “I didn’t think of that.”

“I didn’t think about it until after I did the calculations to see if a bat could carry the crystal,” I consoled.

“Well, then we fight our way out,” Rachel said boldly.

I then repeated to them what I told Aximili.  Everyone blanched and looked away.

“Can I vote no to that?” Marco asked, looking down and away.  I knew what it cost him to say that.

Erek agreed.  “I agree,” he said in a soft voice.  “I can’t ask you to risk yourselves that way.”

Jake said, “But we can’t just … there’s got to be something we can do.  If we don’t get it tonight, we might never be able to.”

“If we can think of something, there is no need to call it off,” I replied.  “Just, as it is, I cannot allow the mission to happen, no matter how much I want to.  I apologize.”

Erek nodded.  “I understand.”

The children were quiet, thinking.  “Bats hang upside down.  We could hold it that way,” Rachel said.

I tossed her a grape.  “Try it.  It’s weighted to the right size and shape.  It isn’t very easy.  And if it is dropped …”

“Game over,” Marco said.

“This might sound disgusting,” Tobias started, “but what if one of us _ate_ the crystal?  I mean, a lot of us eat a lot of things that are bigger than what we morph, and we don’t have problems.”

“Can I volunteer to be the one _not_ to do that?  I ain’t passing that,” Marco said.

Tobias winced.  “Eh, good point.”

Aximili added, “It is also possible that the crystal would remain as it is when the person morphs and might be dangerous in the form.”

“Then how does what we eat not hurt us?” Cassie asked.

“The morphing technology sees that as natural byproducts of the body,” Aximili explained.  “But a crystal, especially one so large, is probably not going to be.  It is one of the drawbacks of the technology. First warriors of the technology faced issues about the lower limits on the animal’s size.  None of them could, for instance, become small insects like we have.”

I took a drink of my Dr. Pepper and avoided anyone’s gaze.

“Why?” Jake asked.

Aximili said it like it was obvious.  “Our translator chips.”

“You guys have translator chips?  Where?” Rachel asked. 

“You mean everyone in the Universe doesn’t speak English?” Jake joked.

“Star Trek _lied_ to us?!” Marco gasped.

“They’re embedded in our brains, of course,” Aximili said.  “In our language centers.  Years ago they were the size of a perhaps a nickel.  Sometimes the morph would proceed properly, but a third of the time it was fatal.  New ones are the size of an … an eraser point, and none of the warriors died.  Soon they will be even smaller.”  He was proud of the ingenuity of our scientists.  I was too.

“Those poor Andalites who never got the chance to be a bug.”  Marco sniffed.  “How I envy them.”

“How old is your chip, Elfangor?” Cassie asked.

I sighed.  It was too much to hope no one would notice.  “I suppose you noticed I never morph insects.  I do have an older model of the chip.”

“You didn’t get the upgrade?” my brother said, surprised.

“Many warriors didn’t.  I didn’t think I’d ever have to worry about it,” I said. 

“Besides, who wants brain surgery again?” Marco said.

“Well, you probably do need a new brain,” Jake commented.

Marco mused for a moment.  "Well, I heard great things about Abby's brain.  Abby Normal," he clarified, and Tobias snorted while the others looked confused.  Marco sighed.  "Why am I surrounded by such uncultured swines."

"Hey," Tobias protested.

I stepped in.  “There’s also the fact I would have had to be re-exposed to all of the languages I had been.  It was too much trouble.”

“Can we please return to thinking of ideas we could use to get the crystal?” Erek said in a deceptively calm voice.

There were few possible ideas, and all were summarily rejected as impractical or impossible.  Someone couldn’t, for example, morph a spider, and then ride the bat while holding onto the crystal.  The fruit tray ran out and the children each went into the kitchen and bathroom to wash their hands.

And then Cassie yelled something and rushed out, hands still wet.  “I’ve got it! Sticky! We can stick it to one of us.”

“Is there anything substance that could hold onto the crystal even as a bat flew?” I asked.

“There’s got to be something,” she said.

“Duct tape!  The answer to everything!” Marco grinned.

“Super glue?” Tobias suggested.

“Those sticky fly stripes,” Jake offered.

“There’s lots of stuff,” Cassie added. 

“The super glue is probably the best.  That stuff holds,” Rachel said.

“Except we’d have to fly over with it,” Marco pointed out.  “I say we use tape.  More risky, but we can put that on in the vent.”

“Sure, we’ll just bring a roll with us.”

“Use that double-sided sticky tape stuff,” Jake said.  “Then we can just peel off the backing.”

“Great, we have an idea.  Let’s go!” Marco said.

“Do we have this tape?” Aximili asked.

“We can pick it up at a gas station,” I said.  “Erek, why don’t you give us the details?”

And he did, in immense detail.  He told us about Matcom and its security, what we could expect at each point. 

“I guess we go.  Do you want to ride with us, Erek?” I asked.

“Yes, if you have room.”

“To the minivan, Batman,” Jake grinned to Marco.

“Minivan,” Marco said, shaking his head.

“I know,” Rachel agreed.  “Especially the color he got.”

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.  “I like the color.”

“I do too,” Cassie said.

“It is a pleasing color,” Aximili added.

“It’s sea-foam green,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes.  “I mean, ewww.”

“It’s a minivan.  You can’t really improve on it,” Marco added as he got in.

“But he didn’t have to make it _worse_.”

I shook my head, waited until everyone was inside, and then drove to the nearest gas station.  I went inside and purchased, among other things, the tape.  (I couldn’t seem too strange.) There wasn’t much of a selection.  I knew the clear scotch tape wouldn’t hold, nor the masking tape.  But there was duct tape, electricians, some colored tape, and a bunch of other brands.  As an afterthought, I threw in the superglue before I went to the cashier.  At my collection – various tapes, glue, chips, candy bars, gum – he gave me a strange look.

“Class project.  Due tomorrow.”  I tried to look like a frustrated parent.  “And failing isn’t an option.”

“Ahh.  How long has he had to work on it?”

“I think a week or two.  But he did think it was due next weekend.  His friend had to call and tell otherwise, though.”

“Well, it’s a good thing.  I see your supplies can help for all-nighters. That’ll be $13.67.”  The cashier smirked.  “I know you’ll have fun making it.”

“Me?” I gave him fifteen dollars and hefted the bags, waited for my change.

He laughed.  “I did it all the time to my parents.  A dollar thirty-three is your change.  Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

I went back to the van, and the children all looked at me.

“What were you doing?  Buying the store?” Marco asked as I passed the bags back.

“Marco, we’re breaking into Yeerk facility.  We will _possibly_ leave some evidence behind.  We’re supposed to be Andalites.  I do not want the Yeerks hunting up records of who bought whatever we use.  It would look suspicious if I just got the tape, if they do search for clues.  Yes, paranoid, but at least afterwards _I_ have the food to eat, which, if I possibly am _shot at_ , I will appreciate.”  And if my brother doesn’t get to it first, I sighed to myself as Aximili eagerly dug into the bag.

I drove to the industrial park where the Matcom building resided, though Erek said he altered his hologram so it looked like a completely different vehicle.  All of us got out and the children dug through the bags a bit more freely while Aximili and I undressed.

“I thought we weren’t using super-glue,” Jake said.

“Humans have things like that in their junk drawers.  I could use it.”

“… Or …,” Cassie said.  “What if we bring it with us?  We can tape it to one of our backs. I mean, if we need it, we can have it.  This tape might not be strong enough.  Besides, then we can see if we can fly with something attached to us.”

“It is a good idea,” Erek said.

I shrugged and looked at the buildings.  “That one is Matcom, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the android answered.  “There’s a vent in the northwest corner.  You should be able to slip in.”

“Bats can get into spaces as small as a centimeter,” Cassie agreed.

I nodded and kept the direction in mind as I demorphed.  ‹We should have Erek place the tape on us.  I assume you have no fingerprints.›

“I don’t have to,” he said.  “Here, you morph into bats and I’ll put tape on each of you.”

“Who’s carrying the crystal and the glue?” Cassie asked.

‹Tobias thought of the glue, so he can carry that,› I said.

“Motivation to tell more ideas,” he said.

‹Does anyone want to carry the crystal?  Otherwise I will.›

‹I’ll do it,› Aximili said, very possibly beating Rachel.

“Now, time to be … Batman!  Bruce Wayne, the millionaire,” Marco said grandly. “Na na na na na na na na BATMAN!”

“Who’d win – Batman or Spiderman?” Jake asked.

As I shrank, I shook my head.  Why did I have to recruit _children_?  Then, as a bat, I felt Erek pick me up.  He carefully placed a stripe on my back, between the wings.  “I’m putting two layers on each of you, so you don’t pull fur.  And each side will be fresh.  Just pull the tab with your teeth.”

‹Thank you.› 

He set me on top of the van and I moved a bit, getting accustomed to the feel.  It wasn’t that troubling, but I wasn’t flying yet.  All I knew was that there was a bit of tightness, a pull.

Once each of us we taped and set on the car, (Tobias promising to _never_ volunteer an idea again,) I asked, ‹Ready?  Follow me.› And I jumped and flew.

Sight had become … interesting.  My brain understood the echoes and made a picture, one that jumbled and faded with each call.  It was a good thing I had pointed myself in the right direction.  If the buildings all look alike with human eyes, bat eyes ignored the details.  I couldn’t read flat signs.  But my innate sense of direction guided me, and I landed against the grate of the vent.  The other joined.

‹This thing is not fun,› Tobias grumbled.

‹What’s wrong?› Cassie asked.  ‹Is it too heavy?›

‹It’s just awkward.  It’s long and Erek had to open it to make sure it wasn’t sealed.  If you think super glue smells annoying normally, try it with this nose.›

‹You’re getting high?› Marco demanded.

‹ _No!_ › 

‹Come all, let’s slip in.›

‹I better fit.›

We all did and we started down the vent, crawling as fast as the bat body would allow.  It seemed like we were making a lot of noise, but I doubted Controllers would hear it.  Periodically, there were grates that looked over offices.  Offices that looked painfully familiar.  Some jobs were not worth the money, in my opinion.

There was the small issue with a rat, who probably came to investigate the noises, ready to fight another rat, but we scared him away.  Perhaps if the rat had faced just one bat, he would have attacked, but there were seven of us.  So he went a different way and we continued on, dropping down a level.  A little bit further and it was exceptionally warm. 

The furnace.  It must have just turned off.  It was probably set to a temperature and had just turned on to keep the temperature at that annoying not-quite-warm-enough temperature. 

‹Let’s not dawdle here,› I called as we went over the spires. 

‹This is the furnace, isn’t it?› Marco said.  ‹Wait, I don’t want to know.›

We came upon the maze section, designed to keep the firelight from reaching the secure room.  Annoying because we had to go one way and then the opposite on the next side.  But then we made it to the security room.  The sudden drop.  ‹We’re here.›

‹Yippie-kay-yay, mo … er, my friend,› Marco corrected.

‹Crawling around in ducts. Stopping terrorists,› Jake said.

Cassie said, ‹Least it’s not Christmas.›

‹This is so Die Hard, though,› Rachel commented.

‹So then who’s McClane?› Tobias asked.

‹Oooh, me!› Marco said.

‹You’re a little chicken.  You totally can’t be McClane.›

‹Well … you’re a girl, so you can’t either!›

‹What are you talking about?› Aximili asked.  ‹Who is this McClane?›

I had no idea about this probable cultural trivia, and I didn’t care.  I examined the room, saw the strings of wire and the platform. 

‹You stay here.  I’m going to try to reach the center table,› I said as I crawled out.  It would safer.  They were still in the vent, and in case I hit a wire, they didn’t have to go far to get away.  With one final call, I allowed myself to drop and fly, twisting and weaving towards the center table.  And there, I landed.

Actually, it was kind of fun. 

‹It is possible.  One at a time, please.›

In a few minutes we were all on the small little table.  Seeing the crystal, I gave an amused smile when it was just sitting there, completely in the open.  Yeerks were far too confident.

 ‹All right, everyone circle Aximili and the crystal.  Let’s see if we can get this thing attached without anyone having to demorph.›

It was a bit of work nosing the crystal over and onto Aximili.  It was even more work getting the superglue off Tobias and the cap open.  It was too difficult for us.

‹I’ll do it.  I handle animals all the time.›

‹I am not an animal,› Aximili sniffed.

‹Just stay close to the pedestal.  We can’t be sure if Erek is completely right about the floor.›

‹Right.›  She went to the edge and, as she demorphed, she pushed herself off.  As an _estreen_ , Cassie had the ability to grow her legs first and hold herself up.  “Wow.  It’s really, really dark,” she whispered.  Her hands were ghosting over towards us.

‹Just be calm.  We’ll help.  Aximili, go to Cassie by her left hand.  Marco, push superglue over to her right.  Rachel and Tobias, roll the crystal to the superglue.›

She worked slowly, gingerly.  First she opened the superglue, holding the crystal in her hand, and then told Aximili to spread his wings as far they could go.  “I think it’ll be better if you can go as far back as possible.  It’ll feel odd, but at least you won’t pull on your fur.”

‹Of course.  Though the smell is most annoying.  My nose membranes and eyes are becoming irritated.›

“There.  Do you think it’ll be okay?  I can put my glue on it.”

I saw Aximili try moving around.  ‹It is very awkward.›

‹Do you think you can fly?›

‹I believe so.  Maybe a strip or two of tape as added security.›

“Okay.  Just come back to my hand.  You got one on your back.  And someone else?›

‹I’m here,› Jake said.

“Thanks, Jake.  All right, Ax, what do you think?”

‹It seems secure.  But I am not flying; though I can’t see the glue completely failing, the tape should act as a fail-safe.›

‹There is only one way to know for sure,› I said.  ‹Put the superglue back on Tobias, Cassie.  Then, try to smudge wherever you might have put your hands with your forearm.›

“Fingerprints?”

‹Better safe than sorry.  I can’t be sure you don’t have a police record.›

‹Cassie?› Rachel laughed, and the other children giggled as well.

‹And then morph back.  Be sure to get on the top of the table.  Bats can’t fly from the ground.›

‹I should go last,› Aximili said.  ‹Just in case.›

I agreed and after Cassie was back to her bat-form, we went one by one back to the vent and slid back it.  And then Aximili went.  For a breathless ten seconds, I waited, listening for the clink of a dropped crystal. But it was for nothing, because Aximili was at the grate, slipping through.

‹Excellent.›

‹We got the crystal, we got the crystal,› Marco chanted. 

‹Just imagine tomorrow – they come in, see it’s missing,› Rachel dreamed.

Part of me felt sorry for whomever had to tell Visser Three.  ‹Come on.  We will want to avoid the furnace.›

‹You had to remind us.  Some of us are carrying flammable materials,› Tobias said.

‹We _are_ flammable materials,› Jake said.

Thankfully, we made it past the heater with no problems.  But we could not go the way we came, because bats cannot climb straight up on a smooth surface.  And we couldn’t fly.

‹So … now what do we do?› Rachel asked.

This was troubling.  There weren’t any open vents to drop down, and that probably wouldn’t be wise anyway. 

‹Could we climb on top of each other?› Cassie asked.  ‹Maybe we could reach the top, then the bottom person could climb up.›

‹We’ll try it.  Otherwise, someone is going to have to half-morph to get the height and hope we don’t break the vent.›

We made the ladder in the corner, so we had two walls to support us.  Aximili was the base, and then me, and then each of the children.  Rachel was at the top, and she stretched and squeaked, trying to find the edge.  ‹It’s too far,› she said, frustrated. 

We collapsed back down.

‹Some plan this is,› Marco grumbled.

‹I’ll demorph again.  I can control it best,› Cassie said.  ‹I’ll just try to turn myself into a giraffe.›

‹Half-bat, half-giraffe, half-human.›

‹That’s our Cassie,› Jake said.

‹Too many halves, though,› Tobias pointed out.

We backed away and watched as she grew up and slightly out.  The vent buckled under her weight, but didn’t break. 

‹I’ve got it.  Start climbing, because I don’t know how long I can do this.›

Aximili went first, then each of the children, then myself.  On the edge, each of us took whatever hold of Cassie we could, until she was bat enough to pull herself up. 

‹This is _so_ much fun,› she said.

‹Isn’t it?› Rachel agreed.  ‹You’re McClane.›

‹Yippie-kay-yay, my friend.›

‹Come on.  Let’s just get out of here,› I said.  We started moving again until we _finally_ made it to the vent.  And then we were in the air, flying back to the van.

With the bat’s echolocation, we saw through Erek’s hologram – I guess we didn’t need to use spiders to learn the truth – and flew to the ground.

“Did you get it?”

‹You had any doubt?  Where is your faith in us, Erek?  We are the ones that can get you what you need,› Marco said.

“Forgive me.”

Eventually we were ourselves, and Aximili pulled the crystal off his chest, wincing, before handing the prize to Erek.  Tobias was pulling off the superglue and tape on his chest as well, and all of the children were dressing. 

‹When do you plan to change your programming?› I asked Erek.

For a moment, he hesitated.  It was one thing to want to do something; it was another to be able to.  This … this would bring into conflict his morals and desires.  “Soon.”

‹Take your time,› I advised as I started to morph.  ‹You cannot take back a murder.›

He scowled at me.

Completely human, I started to dress, and when finished said, “Everyone in.  I’ll take you home.”  Erek joined, probably to keep the hologram up.  I dropped each of them off, even if I had to stop a block or so from the children’s homes.    And then I went back to the house, put my feet up, and shared my treats with my brother.

“We did a good job,” Aximili said.

“We did our job,” I agreed. 

“And we have a new ally to join us in this fight.”

“An ally, yes, but to actually join … probably not.”

“What do you mean?  He has the crystal.”

“Erek hesitated.”

Aximili didn’t quite understand.  “Huh?”

“I doubt he will.  His nonviolence is too ingrained.  Fighting, maybe.  But, murder, killing.”  I shook my head and took a few chips.  “It might be too much for him.”  Chewing a chip, I admitted, “Though maybe I’m wrong.  We’ll see.”

 ****

I was gardening when Erek appeared, over a week later, on his bike. 

“Hello, Erek,” I said, stopping the lawn mower.  “Can I help you?”

“No.”  He paused.  “I do not even know what you call yourself, now.”

“Alan Fangor,” I said, shutting off the machine so we could hear each other.  “So what brings you out this way?”

“I came to bring you this?”  He held out his hand.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not taking that crystal from you.  You’re still a pacifist?” I asked, going to my water bottle and taking a drink.

“You knew I would be.”

“I hunched.  I thought you’d probably stay this way.  Maybe change your nature, but you’d come back once you realized what would really happen.”  I gave him a crooked smile.  “I’m not upset.”

Erek nodded.  “Then why won’t you take the crystal?”

“Because it’s yours.”  I leaned against the lawn mower, water bottle in my hand.  “And because you will keep it safe.  None of you will let anyone get that if it could risk your characters.  You’ll put it somewhere safe, where no one can get it, or you’ll destroy it.  What you will _not_ do is make me reasonable for it.”

He slid it into what appeared to be a pocket.  “I’m sorry for my presumption.”

I smiled.  “And your carelessness.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re thinking too kindly.”

“You wouldn’t use it.”

“Would I?” I asked, sounding serious.  “Well, now I wouldn’t, I admit.  But … I can get captured, my home could get broken into.  My people may not share my current ethics.  Or I might decide to be a right bastard to you Chee.  Lesson the first – trust your allies, but look out for yourself in the long run.”

“Not a pleasant lesson, Mr. Fangor.”

“Lessons in war never are.  And you may call me Alan, if you like.”

Erek nodded.  “We’ll still help. Here, you can use this number to contact us,” he said, drawing a piece of paper from his pocket and holding it out.  I took it.  “They can’t tap or break it, even if they want to.  Just leave a message if you need me.  We’ll do the same.”

“Thank you.  It will probably get used.”  I looked at it.  “Will this end up on my phone bill?”

He chuckled.  “No.  We are that good.”

“Good.  I’ve had people checking me out.  I’ve already had a visit from overly friendly school officials and _Sharing_ members.”

“Do they suspect you?”

I took a sip of water.  “You didn’t do background on me?”

“We trust you.”  A pause.  “For now.”

“Better.  Anyway, I had too much money from my ‘job’ at a computer company.  Someone must monitor the bank.  I fixed that.  Also, I have a degree in quantum physics.”  I shrugged.  “I was interesting.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”

“Thanks.  Oh, and my brother’s name is Alexander, but he goes by Ax.”

Erek nodded.  “Is there anything I can do for you?  You were looking out for me, for us, while you looked out for you.”

I gave him a speculative look.  “Well, you don’t tire.  How about you finish mowing the lawn for me?”

“You’ve almost got it done.”

“Still got the backyard.”

Erek gave me a speculative look and then smiled.  “Deal.”

I laughed and stepped aside.  First “father,” now the “son.”  Full circle.

“I don’t suppose I can interest you in a dog?”

“Erek, you are too much like your father and grandparents, do you know?”

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always disliked the short-term view the Animorphs and the Chee took to the Pemalite Crystal and its abilities, and the assumption the Chee were safe from the Yeerks with their holograms. 
> 
> Also, my experience with bats is that, if are on the ground, they can't fly. At least, not if they can't jump high enough to get air under their wings. Therefore, laundry baskets and sinks are traps to them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks and ... Burping DNA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 12

I hoped I didn’t look disappointed that I wouldn’t get to steal the fallen bug fighter.  I really, really, _really_ wanted to fly it, even more than I wanted to steal it to give the Yeerks troubles.  To fly a craft again, it was so tempting.

But then Jake said those words – _Sario Rip_.  As a human, there was no way he could even think of such a collection of syllables, but when he yelled that we couldn’t go through, that we’d make a _Sario Rip_ , I knew we couldn’t continue.

Even though part of me said, _yes, but now we know we would have created it, so we can avoid making it this time, it’s probably a very lovely craft for Yeerk design_ , I knew the responsible part wouldn’t let me.  There was no way we could avoid making the rip for certain.  To risk the children again.  Put them in a condition where, once again Jake would have to perish to warn me.

Even though it hadn’t happened, it _had_ , and I felt my failure at keeping the human child safe, that he had to be responsible to keep us safe when I had so obviously failed.

So we bid adieu to the mission and craft.  I suppose in a way it was lucky.  Warriors rely on luck as much as gamblers.  Even more so, because if a gambler loses his luck, he merely loses his money.  Warriors lose their lives.

It was late, but not that late.  Only eight thirty.  Really, that isn’t even late.  There would be nothing else tonight, not with the Yeerks focused on clean-up.  So … yes, I’d visit Loren.

I just had to get rid of the obstacles.  More specifically, I had to get rid of my brother.

It wasn’t that hard.  True, after flying back to the house, or, more apt, the woods by the house, I had to deal with Aximili’s less-resolved protests that I should remain in the forest, that a building was no place for an Andalite.  It was his way of showing concern for me, I suppose.  Perhaps he watched too much television and thought every home was going to be robbed.  Between four walls, I was effectively cornered should something happen.  While I did appreciate his trying to looking out for me, I was glad he was becoming less involved in protecting me in such a venue. 

After bidding good-night to Aximili, I morphed human, made it across the yard, into the house, and towards the phone.  A minute later the number was dialed and I was waiting impatiently for Loren to answer.  I hoped tonight she didn’t plan to do volunteer work at the church.

My hopes weren’t in vain, because her voice was then on the other end.  “Hello?”

“Hi, Loren.  It’s Alan.”

“Alan! Hi!  How are you?”

“Fine.”  I ran a hand through my hair, feeling foolishly nervous.  For some reason, I always did, even when I had been human the first time.  It wasn’t like I needed her approval for everything, but there was a deep-seated desire to do things right, give pleasure.   “My latest mission has been cancelled and I was wondering if I could stop by.  I could bring food – pizza, Chinese, whatever you like.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I felt my mood plummet.  “Oh.  Okay.  I understand.  It is a bit late and you probably have plans.”

She laughed.  “No, no.  I mean, I don’t have plans.  I just meant, it’s probably a bit late for food.  You can visit.  If you like.”

My mood was soaring again.  “Sure, of course.  Though I mean, is it ever too late for food?”

“Yes.  Yes, there are times like now, if you live on a nine-to-five schedule.”  She was amused.  “Some of us like to go to bed without indigestion.”

“Perhaps,” I allowed.  “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Bye.”  I hung up and stood grinning.  I was almost to the van before I noticed I was inappropriately dressed.  I swore and took the steps three at a time and rummaged through the closet for something nice.  True, I was never the best on finding nice outfits; I tried to make the effort, made sure everything matched or coordinated in a way most humans would approve of.  It didn’t matter that Loren couldn’t see my efforts.  It was a sign of respect.

Once appropriately dressed, I rushed down the steps, got the keys from their hook, and was in the garage.  Part of me felt like a child trying to sneak away from under his parents’ watchful eyes when the van started and garage door opened, because I was foolishly worried that Aximili might hear – he was by now deep within the woods, past the hearing range – and kept checking the mirrors until I was safely on the road. 

I didn’t make it to Loren’s in ten minutes.  Aside from having to dress, there was something a bit fundamentally wrong in arriving without something to show my appreciation, so I stopped and purchased donuts.  At her house, I got out and walked to the door, already hearing a dog barking enthusiastically.  I gave a knock before opening the door and bent to pet the bouncing pet. 

“Hello, Champ.  Yes, you’re a good dog.  Shhh, no telling,” I grinned as I fished out a donut and fed it to the dog.  “There you go.”

“Are you feeding my dog?”

“No!” I denied, looking up.  She was standing in the hall just in front of me.

“I can hear the plastic crinkling.  You brought food, probably very unhealthy, and you’re feeding it to my dog.”

“Donuts aren’t very unhealthy.  Some of them got jelly in them.  That’s fruit.  And they’re made of bread.  That’s two portions of a balanced meal.”

“You’re evading.  You gave Champ one.”

“You think I’d lie, or that Champ would?” I smiled, straightening.

“Yes, you both would.  And I said you didn’t have to bring food.”

I shrugged.  “You don’t seem to think donuts are food, so I’m in the clear.  Want a not-food?”

She shook her head at me.  “You’re incorrigible.”  But she held out her hand and I placed one in it.  After a bite, she said, “Not bad,” and sat down.  Champ and I followed, and I set the donuts in front of Loren.  “So what gave you the free night off?  Cancelled your ‘mission’?”  There was a teasing mockery in her question.

Taking a donut, I picked off bits.  “Well, it turns out that if I had gone through with it, I would have inadvertently messed with time.  Since such activites are terribly dangerous, it was safer not to continue.”

“Yes.  Messing with time in never good,” she agreed.  “And I can hear you feeding him.”

It doesn’t matter if you try feeding a dog under the table when you do it in front of a blind woman.  “You listen too hard.”

“You spoil him.”

“Isn’t that what dogs are for?  What did you do today?”

Loren shrugged, curled her legs under her, and reached for the donuts.  I gave her directions, and after she had one, she said, “Nothing much, really.  Did some shopping.  How about you?”

“About the same.  I did arrange my day around the job, and then it got cancelled. I spent some time with my brother, Ax.  I tried to teach him how to use chopsticks.”  I smiled at the memory.  It might not have happened today, but it did happen.

“Did you succeed?”

“The food got to his mouth, eventually.  But I don’t think he’ll let me take him there again.”

She smiled, giggled.  “Poor Ax.”  She took another donut.  “How’d he get the name Ax?”

“It’s short for Alexander,” I said, slightly worried. After glancing through the book of names, I saw the name and thought it would work. I thought it had been rather clever, and I only have to go through part of the A’s to reach it.  “You know, Al- _Ax_.”

“I see.  I never heard of anyone shortening it that way.”  She tilted her head and smiled.  “It’s kind of interesting.  Al.  Ax.  Alex.”

I chuckled.  I hadn’t noticed that.  “Well, I guess I am a part of him.  Maybe he might have thought our parents were calling for me as well and they just shortened it up.  I never actually asked how the name got created.”

“Tsk tsk.  So you used to go by Al?”

I nodded, then said, “Yes.  Years ago.”

“Why’d you stop?”

Because I thought possibly being introduced as _Al Fangor_ to Controllers was too much of a risk.  “It’s mostly because I moved and hung around with different people.  There was a guy who only called people by their given name.”

“Why’d he do that?”

I smiled and scratched Champ’s ears.  “Tom was … he was formal.”

“He called everyone by their real names and he went by Tom?  What a jerk.”

“It was his given name, not Thomas,” I defended.  “But he probably was a jerk.”

“Probably?” Loren repeated, amused.

I shrugged.  “Anyone can seem like a jerk.  But he was a friend … after I got used to him.”

“How long did that take?”

“Two years?”

She laughed.  “He was that bad?”

“Tom wasn’t … wasn’t an easy person to get along with.  Add to that I can be just as bad as him, it took a while.”

“How did you meet?”

“He actually was my boss.  I was good friends with his cousin, who got me lined up for an interview.”

_“Trust me, Al,” Josh swore as he guided me into the office building.  “The job’s yours.”_

_I felt nervous, especially in the suit Loren had thought I needed to wear.  It was too constricting.  “I don’t know how you can think that.”_

_Josh laughed.  “Tom might hate people smarter than him, but he’d hate it more if you worked somewhere else.  Hey, Jude.”  It said it in a strange, drawn-out way, and I felt it was a cultural reference I didn’t know.  It only added to my worry._

_The secretary, Jude, spared the coldest glare I ever saw.  Josh did not seem to notice.  I wondered if he just didn’t see or if he didn’t care.  “Can I help you?”_

_“Don’t get up, doll,” he said, opened the office door, and pushed me through before Jude could protest.  The door was shut on her voice, and Josh stepped forward, arms wide.  “Tom!  How are you?”_

_There was a man leaning in a chair behind a desk, focused on a colored object.  He looked up at us and gave an expression of having eaten something distasteful.  “Joshua.  What are you doing here?” Apparently I was not worth notice._

_Josh didn’t falter, sitting in one of the chairs, and he waved at me.  “Remember Al?  I told you about him at Grandma’s party, you said bring him by.”_

_The dark-haired man scowled at the memory, and I had an uncomfortable feeling he had not offered this interview for any other reason than to get Josh to leave him be.  The thought wasn’t reassuring, because it made the human already biased against me.  When Josh said he’d help me find a position, and later that week when he said he got me an interview, I had not expected him to torment family members._

_Tom peered at me as if I was a bug.  This_ getting a job _wasn’t worth it, not if I had to deal with unpleasant humans.  “Who are you?”_

_“Al.  Al Fangor,” I introduced, held my hand out in the appropriate custom._

_Tom merely sneered at it.  “Al?  Is that short for Albert?  Alexander? Alphanzo? Alvin? Alvis?”_

_“Just Alan,” I stuttered._

_“Alan,” he repeated, and he straightened in his seat, set aside a multicolored cube. “Damn it, Joshua, I told you I’m not giving jobs to any of your bum friends.”_

_I had a feeling he wasn’t going to shake my hand, so I dropped it._

_“Then, Tom,  you shouldn’t have said I could bring him.  And my friends aren’t bums.  And even if they were, Alan is the furthest from bum as you can get.”_

_That might not have been a compliment._

_“Just give him a chance, Tom,” Josh continued, and he reached over to pick up the cube.  “Heh, never thought you’d get one of these stupid things.”_

_“I didn’t,” he replied, voice turning a bit light.  “It’s Beatrice’s.  She thought it’d be easy to solve, you know how she is, but I found her this morning swearing like a sailor trying to tear it apart.   She’d been at it three days.”_

_Josh laughed and played with the object.  “So now you have to figure it all out.”_

_“Yes.  And if you’d stop messing with my work.  I was almost done.”_

_“Sure you were!  You could just peel the stickers off.”_

_Tom scoffed.  “Just because that’s the extent of your abilities to solving it, Joshua, does not mean the same for others.”_

_“What is that?” I asked, trying to become noticed again._

_“A Rubik’s cube, Al,” Josh laughed at my ignorance.  “A new toy.  You got to get all the sides a solid color.”_

_My eyes widened and I looked at it with interested eyes.  A child’s toy!  Yes … fifteen moves it could become solid.  It was a very simple one, only three blocks by three, while mine at home had been seven by seven. (And that had been the one when I was a_ very _young child.) “But why would you stop playing with it once it’s solid?” I asked._

_“Because that’s the point!”_

_“But shouldn’t you try to make patterns with the smaller blocks?”_

_“What?”_

_I took the toy and gave it a few twists.  Yes, it was just like childhood.  “To make patterns, checkered or … or zigzags,” I said, holding up the cube at each to show Josh.  For such a small toy, it didn’t allow the full depth of patterns, but it was close enough._

_For a moment, he was speechless, and then he looked at Tom.  “See, I told you, this one ain’t a bum.”_

_Tom met my eye and, for a moment, I thought he was going to yell at me.  His face was upset and he got to his feet and snatched the toy from my hands.  “Don’t touch my stuff, Alan.”  Then he sat down, turning the cube in his hands, making motions – if slow and very thought out – towards a solid resolution.  “Social skills obviously aren’t your forte.  What are your other qualifications?  And damn it, sit, you’re making me nervous.”_

“And you got the job?” Loren asked

“Almost wished I hadn’t.” And that was the truth.  I only stuck with it because I had thought that was what humans did – had jobs they hated but went to because that was what they did.  And I didn’t want to admit failure.  Tom had been a hard boss – demanding deadlines (that really weren’t that demanding if you were a few centuries ahead technologically) and involved with everything.  But that wasn’t what made me hate it.  My _aristh_ training had prepared me to expect to work under such persons.  No, what made it worse what that Tom noticed _everything_.  He noticed how un-human I was and he questioned it relentlessly, mocked the things I didn’t understand that a real human would.  (To be fair, most persons probably would have mocked me, but they might have been polite enough to do it in their heads.)   He tormented me, but I realize now it was probably in a vague way.  It was just his character; Tom didn’t tolerate fools well, and, if I was anything back then, I was certainly foolish.  The longer I worked under him, the more ingrained I became with human culture, the less he gave his cutting, embarrassing remarks, and the more he respected my talents.  But he still _watched_ , realized that I was holding something back.  He had been the only human to confront me about not meeting my potential.

_It was a late night, and I was finishing programming a few projects, terribly bored with it.  It should have taken a normal human a week, with overtime, but I was doing it in its near entirety in the two hours I would call my overtime.  The rest of the time I had been helping colleagues with their projects, a more challenging prospect.  I had to coax them into my thinking as well as help them figure out how to do it, all without being obvious about it._

_I couldn’t wait until the technology advanced, though.  It was hard enough to work with it, but I had to be careful I didn’t accidentally advance everything._

_I sighed and punched in the coding._

_“Late night?”_

_I jumped and looked up.  Tom was leaning against the doorframe, mug in hand.  “Tom.  Why are you here?”_

_“You’re not the only one who works late, Alan.  Coffee?” he asked._

_It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t offering.  “Oh, it’s in the corner, but it’s cold.”  While I liked coffee hot, I could drink it at any temperature.  Most of my co-workers couldn’t make the same claim._

_He went over and poured himself a cup.  “Almost done?”_

_“Yes.  Another fifteen minutes or so, I think.”_

_“I’m surprised you’re here.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I thought you had finished,” Tom shrugged, sipping.  “You were in everyone elses’ offices all week.”_

_Part of me winced.  I had hoped no one would notice, because I really couldn’t have explained it.  Maybe I had been careless.  Tom had been in meetings all week, and maybe I thought I could get away with being less vigilant in my work.  “They needed help.  Obviously, I should have focused a bit on my own work first.”_

_“Probably.”  He took another sip.  “Then again, you could have stayed over any other day of the week.  You’re usually pretty punctual about getting finished.  Especially since, from what I’ve gathered, you spent a grand total of three hours in your own office this week.”_

_“I’ve been in here more than that,” I laughed, perhaps a bit forced._

_“Not by much, by my estimates.”  He looked at me.  “Never under-estimate the power of gossip at the water-cooler, Alan, in keeping someone informed, even if they’re in meetings the rest of the day.”_

_I looked back at the computer screen and pretended that it needed all my attention.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”_

_“I’m sure you will.”_

_I heard him move behind me, and I struggled to ignore him._

_“I don’t pretend to understand any of this, but it is remarkable.”_

_“What is?” I asked, uncomfortable with him looking over my shoulder._

_“Finishing all of this in the … five hours you’ve been in your office.  Not even a day’s work.  And I’m sure there won’t be a single flaw.  There never is with your work, Alan.”_

_Because, while it might be very hilarious to make problems, not ones that appear right away, but ones that appear later and disappear without a trace, I had too much pride to let humans think I made mistakes.  “It was more than five hours,” I protested.  “I did a lot at home.”_

_“Of course you did, which explains why you didn’t stay over then.  Better to ignore you wife at home than to spend too much time at work, after all.”_

_Was it?  “Umm … yes?”_

_“So tell me, was this one just easier, or do you usually pretend to work as much as anyone else?”_

_“Just because you think I worked less on it doesn’t mean I did, Tom,” I said peevishly._

_He smiled and didn’t say anything for a very long time.  But he didn’t move away.  “You’re very smart, Alan, in a very, very stupid way,” he finally said, when the silence was making me twitchy._

_“I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“Yes.  Yes you do.  Tell me, do you enjoy doing this?”_

_“I like my job.”  More or less._

_Tom chuckled.  “No.  No, you don’t.  You’re bored out of your skull.  Of course, so are half of the people here.  But you’re different, aren’t you.”_

_It wasn’t a question.  I could hear that much._

_“You work in this little company that probably will go nowhere, despite all my hours, when you could work anywhere.  They’d love to snatch you up, especially that pair making with the fruit program or that Door or whatever his name is, your friends in our competition you pretend you don’t have, and don’t pretend you haven’t had offers.  While I admire and thank your loyalty, I wonder why.  The work bores you, the pay is … is tolerable, you won’t be getting a raise, so it_ is _tolerable, the benefits are good for being barely nonexistent.  So why do you work here?”_

_“Maybe I like the people.”_

_Now he laughed.  “If only you could lie with your face, Alan.”  Before I could turn and protest, Tom leaned down.  “I don’t care if you dilly along, so long as your work gets done and gets done damn good.  I won’t let you embarrass my company.  But if I find out you’ve turned into a gibbering loon – more than you already are – because you’re bored out of your mind, that will not be on my head.”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“Alan, pretend I care.  Figure out if you want to solve things you could have done when you were probably in diapers for the rest of your life and ending up intimate with a shotgun barrel or length of rope.”_

_“Or?” I asked sarcastically._

_“That’s for you to figure out.”  He patted my shoulder, mocking its caring and friendship meaning.  “I can’t hold your hand through everything or tell you what to do.  That’s for your wife to do.  I’ll expect that finished before you leave.”_

Loren shook her head.  “Sometimes I wish I could remember things that happened, jobs I hated.”

“Maybe you liked it.”  I had thought Loren liked her job, at least the one she got after she finished the schooling.  She worked at a hospital, not as a nurse or a health professional, but as one of the personnel in the administrative offices.  I think she wanted to go back to school, though, become a psychologist or similar, but she wanted to experience the real world, as she called it.  If she had wanted to return, I would have supported her.  But we never got to that point.

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  But it’d be nice to remember something.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t pay to dwell on the past.  It is done with,” I said kindly.

“Easier said than done.”

I laughed.  “You are as bad as my brother.  He makes one mistake and is humiliated.”

“This is different,” she said reproachfully.

I agreed.  “But the principle is the same, in the extremes, I’ll admit.”  Champ licked my hand and indicated he’d like his ears scratched, and I complied.  “Do you like Champ?”

Loren started and then laughed.  “Of course.  What kind of question is that?”

“Just, a German Shepherd.”

“And what’s wrong with a German Shepherd?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“You seem like one of those yippy little purse dogs,” I teased.  “The ones that ask for tacos, maybe.”

“A Chihuahua?  Oh, that’d help me a lot with walking around.  I’d step on it and crush it.”

“How about a poodle?  Would you have to give it a home perm?”

She giggled.  “What kind of dog would you like?”

I shrugged aside her question.  “I’m not much of a dog person.”  She sat in such a way that was clearly mocking my words.  “I’m not.”

“Which explains why you’re always spoiling my dog.”

“I’m not spoiling him.  I’m making him like me.  The best way to do that is through his stomach.  I don’t want him to bite off my hand.  He’s very protective dog, you know.”

“Yes, he is.  He’s protecting me so well way over there.”  Champ lolled his tongue, perhaps realized we were mocking him, and trotted over to Loren.  He whined and leaned his head against her leg, and she smiled.  “I stand corrected.”

“He is a nice dog.”

“Yes.  What type would you like?”

“I don’t want a dog.  I’ve already been attacked by one of my brother’s friends who tried to pawn one off.”

“Did Ax want one?”

I laughed.  “My brother has no desire for a pet.”

“I thought all boys wanted a dog.”

“He’s not exactly the normal human being.”

Loren kept scratching Champ’s head.  “I can’t imagine having any other dog than Champ.  It was a wait to get him, but it was worth it.  Love at first sight.  Or touch, as it may be,” she smiled.

“How long have you had him?”

“Almost three years. I didn’t get him until he was two.  But he’s still a big baby.”  She wrapped her arms around him.

I chuckled.  “Your baby.”

“Isn’t he?”  She smiled at me.  “You need a dog.  We should get you one.”

“No,” I laughed.

“Now you sound like a poodle man.  Or maybe a St. Bernard.  Or one of those little dogs that’s all fur.  They have a curvy tail.”

“Don’t get me a dog.”

“How about a puppy?  You can give it to Ax.  You’ll be taking care of it anyway.”

“No,” I said, trying to sound firm and not laugh.

She frowned at me.  “Are you a cat person?”

“No more than I’m a dog person.”

Loren shook her head at me.  “Watch it.  One day I’m going to give you a puppy for your birthday.  I’ll pick one out of those boxes they have in front of stores.”

“I have a little brother to take care of.  I have to feed and clean up after him.  I don’t need a puppy.”

“But he’ll go off to college and you’ll be all alone,” she said.  “You’ll thank me.”

I shook my head at her.  “Promise me you won’t surprise me with a puppy,” I pleaded.  “Or a kitten.  Or a fish.  Or a lizard.  Or a bird.”

“Hamster?”

“No rodents of any kind.”

She giggled.  “Fine.  You’re safe, for now.  But when Ax is at school and you’re all alone in that house, you’ll change your tune.”

I didn’t answer.  Ax wouldn’t be going to any human college, and we would be here.  And if by some miracle we could save Earth, or if Andalite forces arrived, I would not stay on this planet.  I couldn’t.  I had to face my punishments on the homeworld. 

Loren sighed.  “I’d like to meet your brother, sometimes.”

“You could.  You could come to my home,” I offered.  “I’m a great cook, as you know.”

She shook her head.  “No, I can’t.  You know why.”

Oh, yes, she wouldn’t.  It would risk Tobias learning about her, and she was too embarrassed to chance it.  My mouth opened to tell her that she should, she could, but then I stopped.  We didn’t talk about Tobias.  If I tried, Loren always turned firm and asked me to leave soon afterwards.  So now I didn’t try, at least verbally.  But if I told stories about my brother and his friends, dropped names casually, she could not scold me for that.  And I do not think Loren wanted to remain completely oblivious about our son’s life. 

I didn’t say anything to her response, and after a few moments, Loren continued, “I guess it’s late.”

I felt disappointed.  I had only been here little more than half an hour.  But, yes, it was late.  “Yeah.  Well, thanks for humoring my visit.”

“You’re welcome.  And … thanks for the donuts.”

“I had to bring them.”

She smirked.  “Yes.  You would.”  She stood up and walked around to take my arm and guide me to the door.  “You’ll visit soon?”

“Of course.  I’ll have to check my schedule,” I said quickly.  “But I can call.”

“I’d like that.  Good night.  Drive safely.”

“I will.”  I had the desire to lean over to kiss her cheek, but I suppressed it and squeezed her arm in good-bye.  “Bye.”

“Bye.”

 ****

‹I am not upset that you saved the child, Rachel,› I repeated wearily.  Honestly, why do I let the children lead normal lives?  All they do is risk letting the Yeerks finding out the truth by doing stupid – but, yes, sometimes necessary – things. 

“You’re doing your narrowed-glaring stalk eyes things, and you sound pissed,” she said furiously.  “How can you even think I would let that kid get chomped on by a croc?”

I think Rachel must enjoy picking a fight.  And I do not do a “narrowed-glaring stalk eyes thing” when I am angered.  If I am angry, one doesn’t have to look at my eye stalks for clues.

“Rachel, Elfangor isn’t even yelling –” Cassie tried.

“He’s still angry.”

‹You are mistaking my annoyance at you for anger,› I snapped.  ‹It is understandable, I suppose.  They are close alphabetically.›

“Score one for the Elfman,” Marco smirked quietly to the boys, and even my brother was amused by my comment.

‹Do not call me that,› I said, perhaps harshly.  I did not like the nickname.  My name is Elfangor, not some combination of human endearments.  It is _not_ a hard name to pronounce with a human tongue.  Even Aximili is not a difficult name, but the children still called my brother Ax or Ax-man or other strange shortenings, though it was obvious he did not care for the practice as well.  However, unlike me, he did not bother stopping the practice. 

Marco winced at my tone.  “Sorry.”

My comment to Rachel at least seemed to hold her tongue, but she looked like it was still bothering her.  For a moment, I wondered if there was something _else_ that was worrying her, something that merely fed her ridiculous claim that I was upset with her, but I shook the idea aside.  Rachel was confrontational.  No doubt she expected my ire and, when it was not met, was unable to dispel her preconceived righteous indignation.  ‹Jake, you said you had some information about a possible Yeerk target.›

He looked surprised to have my attention on him, having been mocking Marco, but he gathered himself quite well.  “Yes.  My brother said _The Sharing_ is hiring that kid from _Power House_ as a spokesman.”

Marco was less than impressed.  “That TV show?  Huh.  That’s strange.  Well, anyway.  I have homework piled up on my desk at home.  Plus, I have the new Nintendo game.  You know, the one where –”

He trailed off, obviously realizing that the females of the group were obviously having a different take on the situation than all of us males, myself included, their mouths hanging open in an unappealing manner.  I never saw the interest in being obsessed with actors, though Loren tended to favor more than one.  I cannot remember their names, though the phrase, _Shaken, not stirred_ , probably went with one of them.

“What’s with them?” Marco asked to Jake.

Jake was just as clueless.  “What is with you two?”

Rachel answered first, in a dreamy tone.  “Jeremy Jason McCole is going to be endorsing _The Sharing_?”

“Jeremy Jason McCole?” Cassie repeated in the same tone.

The boys looked less than interested, and Jake voiced it all, “Yeah, it’s too bad, but it’s not like anyone cares.  He’s just some wimpy little actor.  I mean, it’s not like he’s Michael Jordan …”

“…or Brett Favre,” Marco put in.

“…or Wayne Gretsky,” Tobias added.

I had no idea who any of these humans were. Neither did Aximili, though he asked me quietly, ‹What is an actor?›

Meanwhile, Jake finished his statement, “…or anyone else important.  He’s just an actor.  I mean, he’s a dork.”

‹What’s a dork?›

I closed my stalk eyes.  Aximili needed to learn Earth colloquiums.  I cannot spend all my time explaining these things to him.  It is beyond annoying.  Yes, I know I was just as ignorant when I first arrived, and yes, I was probably _just as_ annoying to Loren.  However, unlike her, I did not have an unlimited supply of patience.  (Of course, neither had Loren, to be completely honest…)

“Yeah.  I mean, that hair,” Tobias said.

Cassie looked affronted.  “I _love_ his hair.”

“He’s even shorter than me,” Marco said.  His height, or the apparent lack thereof, was a sore point for the boy.

“The difference being that Jeremy Jason McCole is cute,” Rachel said. 

“He’s the single cutest boy on the planet,” Cassie corrected.

As Rachel went into all of the magazines the boy was featured in, and as Jake and Marco mocked them, I started to understand the seriousness of the situation.

‹Would I be correct in assuming this male would entice many human females to join _The Sharing_ with so much as a hand wave?›

The girls nodded vigorously, but the boys disagreed completely until Cassie made what she believed to be the most equable connection.  “It’d be like the entire female cast of _Baywatch_ endorsing something.”

The boys’ humor left as they become aware of the seriousness.

“He’s got that much influence?” Jake said.

“He’s got _Baywatch_ -level power?” Marco gasped.

“Yasmine Bleeth power?” Tobias echoed.

The girls nodded.  “Trust me.  If JJM endorses _The Sharing_ , girls will sign up in droves.”

‹So we will stop such a thing from happening,› I said simply. It did not seem to be that difficult.  I wondered if I could start of nasty rumor on the internet.  Actors always seemed to worry about their appearance.

Cassie looked slyly at Rachel.  “Of course, to do that, we might actually have to meet Jeremy Jason McCole.”

“To do our duty,” Rachel agreed.

Marco made gagging noises and Jake echoed his sentiment, and I gave a small smile.

‹Elfangor, is Bleeth even a word?›

‹No,› I sighed.  ‹I severely doubt so.›

 ****

I woke to the phone ringing, which gave me a mild heart attack, but I quickly started morphing and managed to catch the phone before the machine would.

“Heeeeeeee-ow,” I said, my mouth finishing its transformation.

“Ummm … Al?”

My sleepy mind managed to recognize the voice.  “Rachel?  What’s wrong?”

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“Rachel, it is past midnight.   What is wrong?”

“So … you haven’t seen the news yet?”

“Did you rescue another child that fell into a crocodile pit?” I demanded sarcastically.  “What is it, Rachel!”

“My house fell on me!” Rachel said.

For a moment, my mind froze and I couldn’t respond.  “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfectly fine.”  Over the phone, I made out Cassie scolding Rachel.  “Cassie is with you?  Is she all right?”

“Cassie’s fine.  She’s just visiting me at the hotel.”

Sleep was being chased away.  “Rachel,” I said firmly.  “Why did your house fall on you?”

Silence.  Then Rachel said in a quiet voice, “Do you know houses aren’t built to hold elephants?”

A pause, and then I ask, “Were you conducting an experiment to see if your house would?”

“No.  No, completely not.  But I found out.  But I didn’t want to.  It just happened!”

“It just happened?” I repeated.

“Yes!”

“I see.”  And I did.  I clutched my head and did not wish to deal with this.  “Rachel, answer me _honestly_.  When you became acquainted with any recent animal, did you feel ill?”  Sometimes, I wished I didn’t have to speak in code.

“…Yes.”

“And you decided to _not_ tell me this, despite my orders to tell me when anything odd happens?” I said angrily.

“Look, I –”

When I heard her voice turn angry, I backtracked.  “Stay calm!  You must _stay_ calm.  You’ve developed an allergy.”

“An allergy?!  To what?”

“The last animal you … met.”  This was not good.  If my guess was correct, it would be the crocodile, which weren’t pleasant animals at all.  “The crocodile, yes?”

“Yes.  How do I get rid of it?  I can’t control – I mean …”

“You can control yourself.  You’re just …”  I struggled for an appropriate human response.  “You’re just sneezing.”

“Sneezing?”

“Either that or vomiting.  Sneezing seems more appropriate.  Or maybe coughing.  One of those, I suppose.  And you’re not remaining calm.”

“Yes I am!”  She took a deep breath, trying to control herself.  “So, um, is there any medicine or something I can take?”

“No.  Only time.  Eventually it will be expelled.  Like vomiting.”

“Time?  That’s all you can say?  Give it time?  You going to tell me to take chicken soup with it?!”

“Only if it will keep you _calm!_ ”  I decided to say something, because it was clear Rachel needed information to be calm.  “You will go through a natural process _hereth illint_.” Actually, I had no certainty that humans would go through such a process, but I couldn’t comprehend it not happening.  But Rachel didn’t need to know about my less-than-certain certainty.

“ _Hereth illint_?  What’s that mean?”

There was, of course, no direct translation.  “I suppose … well, vomiting is a bit too strong of a term.  May we settle for _burping DNA_?”

“Burping DNA?!”

“Calm.”

It was a struggle for me to remain calm.  I truly wished to be angry, not at Rachel, precisely, but at the circumstances.  I mean, such things are troubling on their own.  Adding the Yeerks and everything else, it was not a calm-creating circumstances.

“The offending DNA will eventually be expelled from your body.  However, you cannot control when.  You will have to be very careful, because crocodiles are very dangerous.”

“That sounds easy …”

“Rachel … everything sounds easy.  You are going to be expelling a fully-grown crocodile.  You will be close quarters with said crocodile.  And, from what I have read, the experience is unnerving enough.”

Rachel was silent on the other end.

“Rachel, until this experience is over, you cannot join us.”

“WHAT?!  But … but Jeremy –”

“RACHEL!” Cassie exclaimed over the phone.  “You’re –”

I could guess what was happening.  “Rachel, please calm yourself and let me speak with Cassie.”

Soon the other girl’s voice one over the line.  “Elfangor?”

“Good evening, Cassie.  How is Rachel?”

“Umm … sprouting feathers?”

“Do try to keep her calm.”

“I’ll try. Ooh, umm, Jeremy is supposed to be a yacht tomorrow.  We thought – the rest of us – that we could go there after school.”

I nodded in approval.  “I’ll look over the details.  Of course, Rachel will not be joining us.  I suppose someone should keep her company.”

Cassie did not automatically volunteer herself.  I couldn’t help but smile at her desire to see this actor.  “Umm … I’ll ask Tobias.”

“Thank you.  Have a good evening.”

After her farewell, I hung up the phone and groaned.  Part of me wanted to rush over and monitor Rachel with all four of my eyes, but it would have been pointless.  Time was the only cure. 

The timing, however, was problematic.

That would be humans, though. Making problems and problematics. 

 ****

The girls were devastated to learn the truth about the human actor.  While Cassie was merely sad and disappointed, Rachel was angry at the “McTraitor.”  It was obvious to see, as she started turning into an elephant.

‹Rachel, control yourself,› I said wearily.  I was much more interested that Visser Three _personally_ was speaking with the human.  Was there any particular reason? 

“Whoa, what’s happening?” Jake asked.

“Rachel broke the morphing ability,” Marco exclaimed, because Rachel hadn’t controlled herself.  Instead, she was turning into a bird. 

‹I thought you explained it them,› Aximili said to Cassie.

“I did, sort of,” Cassie protested.

“You said Rachel was sneezing morphs,” Jake said.  “That her morphing was out of control.  You didn’t say she could do that.”

‹Aximili, please explain it to them while I speak with Rachel,› I sighed, and then spoke very calmly to Rachel, in even tones, and ordered her to relax.

“I’m _sorry_ , but that weasel!  How can he do that to his fans, to the human race?”

‹Rachel, that is counterproductive.›

“So if Rachel gets all emotional, she loses it?  That’s really not that different from normal,” Marco commented.

“Except now she changes into animals,” Tobias said. 

“That’s different?”

‹Marco,› I scolded. Once Rachel seemed to control herself, I took my main eyes off her and looked around.  ‹Now we must determine what to do about the actor.›

“Killing him sounds good.”

I narrowed my stalk at her.  ‹Rachel.› 

She wasn’t repentant, but she continued on.  “Actually, I have an idea. See, that jerk’s going to be on _Barry and Cindy Sue Show_ tomorrow.”

‹You are not suggesting we kidnap him, are you?› I asked suspiciously.

“Lock him in her bedroom – oh, bad mental image!” Marco groaned, as if pain.  “The vision, the vision, it hurts!”

“We can’t let him endorse _The Sharing_ ,” Rachel said, fists clenched as Jake and Tobias snickered at Marco.  “He’ll leave town after the show.  We can take him and starve the Yeerk out if there is one.”

I didn’t tell her it was very likely he wasn’t a mere Controller.  As such, I refused to take the human.  He was a Collaborator, which was worse than a mere Controller.  ‹I’m not becoming responsible for such a human.›

“But we have to stop him,” Cassie said.

“My dad got me on the show,” Rachel added.

‹You _are not_ going on!› I said instantly.  ‹Not while you are ill.›

“I’m not ill!  I can remain perfectly calm!”

‹I see.›  I was being sarcastic.  ‹You are promised to be on the show, I suppose.  Then you shall.›

Everyone was surprised at my statement.  “Um, Elfangor, wouldn’t that be a bad thing?” Tobias asked.

‹It just won’t be Rachel.›

“You want one of use to morph Rachel,” Cassie said, eyes widening.

“I’ll do it!” Marco volunteered.

“No way in Hell, Marco!  And no way, Elfangor!”

‹Calm.  And, yes way.  It is the only way.  If Cassie is willing, she may stand in for you.›

“But –”

‹Rachel, I do not feel like risking detection, nor do I feel like subjecting the entire studio to the risk of the crocodile running amok.›

“But—” she repeated, and her hair was turning scruffy.

‹No.  And calm down.›  

“So what are we going to do about actor-boy?” Marco asked.  “If you’re not going to let us kidnap him, which, personally, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  My lunch thanks you, too.”

“We have to save him,” Cassie said.  “He’s JJM.”

“Even if he’s a traitor to humans everywhere,” Jake said, perhaps a bit too pointedly.  Cassie ignored him.

‹The human is a Collaborator.  Even if we do save him from infestation, he could still support _The Sharing_ ,› Aximili pointed out, voicing my own concerns.

The females’ responses were immediate. 

“They’re tricking him!”

“He won’t!”

Aximili took a defensive step back, stalks raised.  ‹I didn’t mean – ›

‹Aximili is right,› I said.  ‹While it is likely he does not understand what infestation means, it is just as likely he will still accept it if it means his career will advance.›

“And does he need the help,” Marco said solemnly. 

“Yeerks – making it so lame actors don’t go away,” Tobias added.

“They _are_ evil.”

“Extremely,” Jake agreed.

‹Boys,› I scolded mildly, because it looked like the females might attack them.  In Rachel’s current condition, it would be more dangerous than usual.

While Rachel was struggling to control her grizzly nature, Cassie stepped in.  “But that’s no excuse.  We can’t just … we have to save him.  Otherwise everyone will just join _The Sharing_ because he says so. We have to!”

‹And we will,› I consoled.  ‹We merely have to figure out how.›

“You know what I don’t get?” Marco said.  “Why can’t we be rushing off to save Carmen Electra?  We have to save that loser.  It’s just not fair.”

“You want the Yeerks to get their hands on her?” Tobias gasped.

“Well, no!  But I’d like to rescue her!  Get a kiss as a reward.”

“Marco, you’re pure frog.  No, not frog.  Toad.  You’ll give her warts,” Rachel said.

“A kiss from me gives no lady warts.  It wakes them from their dreams.”

“And into a nightmare,” Jake grinned.

I wondered why I had to be surrounded by hormonal teenagers.

 ****

“So?  Tell me what happened?” Loren demanded from the table. 

“Hush!  Don’t distract me, otherwise the stew will burn,” I teased as I turned the liquid in the pot.

“Alan!” she scolded.  “What happened?”

“You are too impatient.  OW!” I turned and rubbed my back, eyes wide.  “Did you just throw that cup at me?”

She was smirking too much.  “I have great hearing.  I may be blind, but I can still find you and throw things in your general direction.  Where’d I get you?”

“Right between the shoulder blades!  A foot higher and you would have given me a concussion.”

Loren waved a hand.  “You have a hard head.  Now continue.”

Smiling, I retrieved the plastic cup.  “You’re very violent, do you know.”

“I can be more, if you don’t start talking.  I’ll make Champ attack you.”

I cast a look at the dog, who raised his head up at his name and panted before dropping it and looking up with large eyes.  “He’s deadly, I can see.  Anyway, it was pure bedlam at the TV station.  Animals were everywhere.  A llama was trying to tap-dance on Jeromy’s head.”  Marco had had far too much fun.

“I heard on the news there was a crocodile loose!”

I frowned at that memory as I checked on the bread.  Rachel was too bold and reckless by half and she was lucky no one had been injured.  It hadn’t been very nice of her to lock Aximili in the bathroom and make her escape – and I completely forgave Aximili in this lapse, as well as his destroying the door to get out, even though morphing a small animal and crawling under the door would have been wiser.  But I understood being suddenly trapped in a very cramp room had not done Aximili any favors. 

But the fact that Rachel had thought necessary come to the studio – lying to me about being cured of the allergy, claiming Aximili was taking care of the dead crocodile, when it was very obvious by her nose trying to turn into a trunk that she was lying!

It had all gone downhill from there.  Instead of being free to walk around the studio, I now had to babysit Rachel in case the crocodile appeared – which it did.  With so many people, I couldn’t stay Andalite, the only thing way I felt that had a decent chance in facing the creature. 

So, instead of mildly tormenting the Controller – thought-speak words to show we knew, were present – Murphy’s law made itself obeyed.  Perhaps I made it worse by freeing all of the stage animals, but distractions were things needed.

“Yes.  He even bit that actor, broke his leg.”

“That poor boy.”

That poor boy was currently on the opposite side of the world.  “Well, obviously he tasted deadly.  No one knows how or why, but the crocodile died.”  By several tail jabs from Aximili, who had arrived in a temper and panic. 

I refused to listen to Rachel’s logic or reasoning – or what she would have claimed it was – and neither did Aximili.  Both of us were sharp and cold towards her, and, I swore, if we had been on a Dome she would have been reprimanded so fast and hard it would have been impossible to see.  She might have even been removed from service. 

No matter how angry I was, I don’t think it matched Aximili’s, nor the sense of betrayal he had felt at Rachel’s actions. 

Loren sighed.  “You get all the excitement.”

I chuckled.  “Unfortunately.  Ah here, fresh bread.”

Both of us took a deep breath.  “I love this,” Loren said.  “Home-made meals.  You have to visit a lot more.”

“I’ll try,” I promised as I set it down on a cutting board.  “Three o’clock, careful, it’s hot.”

“No, really?  Just from the oven and it’s hot?  Who would have thought?”

“The knife’s on the left side,” I replied. 

“Thank you.”  She cut a piece and ate it.  Champ perked up tried to look needy.  “Why were you even there?”

“Moral support.  My brother is friends with the girl who fell into the crocodile pit.”  Well, he had been.  Only time would determine if they returned to any sort of cordiality.

Loren gave a sad chuckle.  “Poor girl can’t get away from them.”

“No.  No, she can’t.  I think I can promise Rachel will never touch another crocodile again.” She cut another piece of bread.  “You better not fill up on bread,” I warned.

“If you didn’t make such good bread, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” I scolded.

“Where’d you learn to cook, anyway?  Culinary school?”

I grinned as I covered the pot to let it simmer for a few minutes.  “I did take a few classes, yes.  But mostly it’s because I like to eat.  To eat I have to cook.”

She gave a little laugh.  “I’m pretty sure that while the rest of the world likes to eat, they don’t cook like this.”

Feeling like I got caught in a lie, I smiled sheepishly.  “I _really_ like to eat and take the Greek proverb seriously.  One shouldn’t eat to live, but live to eat.  Can I have a piece of the bread?”

“So long as you don’t fill up on it,” Loren sniffed before she handed me a slice.  “And somehow I think you’re missing the real meaning of that saying.”

“In that case, I prefer the direct meaning.  Subtly is for those who have too much time on their hands.”

“Do you have any other hobbies than quoting bad Greek?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m nosy.  I know hardly anything about you.”

“That’s okay.  Very few people know anything about me,” I said dismissively. 

She frowned.  “That’s not okay.  It means you don’t have any friends.  Or you’re paranoid about people stealing your identity,” she added. 

It was possible it was both of the reasons and many more unvoiced ones.  “I don’t have hobbies.”

“People only say that when they’re embarrassed about what hobbies they have.”

“Do they?” I asked, unsure.

She giggled.  “I think so.”

“What do you do?” I countered.

“Listen to music, read, spoil my puppy.”  She patted Champ’s head.  “Your turn.”

I was quiet, trying to think.  “I have been trying to save the world, lately,” I said finally.  I wondered if that counted as a hobby.

She looked impressed.  “Some hobby!  What do you do, pick up litter or something?”

“Or something.  I did help in stopping the forest from getting torn down,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yes.  Some construction company was going to clear up bits of it, and I spoke with one of the committee board members.”

“Wow.  Do anything else for fun?”

“I like to run or drive.”

“I wondered how you worked off all those calories,” she smiled.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I did.  Do anything else?”

I shook my head.  “Most of my time centers around making sure making sure my brother and his friends don’t get themselves killed.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “Really?  Well, I guess they could be at that age,” she allowed.  “I just never thought Ax would give you so much trouble.”

I chuckled.  “I fear he’s being slowly corrupted.  I don’t really mind.  It’ll help him, in the long run.”

“Until then, you’re going to be there to bail him out of jail.”

“My brother won’t end up in jail.”  I went to check on my stew and tasted that it was finished.

“He doesn’t mind you being gone, visiting me, not cooking him supper?”

I looked at her from over my shoulder as I scooped out two bowls.  “My brother doesn’t require me to hover over him.  If I did, he’d probably think I didn’t trust him.  And our refrigerator is always filled with leftovers, so it’s not like he’s going to starve.”  And if he did empty our supplies, he could go graze like a proper Andalite.

“I just don’t want you to ignore him because of me,” Loren said quietly as I set the bowl down in front of her.

“Don’t worry about my brother’s and my relationship.  We spend the gross majority of the day in each other’s company, with lessons and whatnot.  A few hours apart will not harm us.”

“Lessons?  You mean Ax is home-schooled?”

“Yes.  He never managed to click into the school system.  Too clever.  Instead of pushing him ahead in grades and make him stand out, our parents chose to teach him at home.  He prefers it, and I haven’t the heart to put him in the system.”

“Is he really smart?” she asked after she blew on the liquid.

“Probably not as smart as he thinks,” I grinned.  “But yes, he’s pretty smart.  Practically a photographic memory, great at math and science.  The literature doesn’t interest him and most of the social sciences, aside from knowing the basics, he doesn’t bother with.”

She smiled.  “Is it hard, teaching someone that smart?”

“Hey, I’m no slouch.  I got a Masters in quantum theory,” I protested good-naturedly.

“I apologize for doubting you,” she said, mocking.

I sniffed.  “I forgive you, I suppose.”

Everything I had said wasn’t a complete lie.  While Aximili didn’t spend lessons learning about Earth school subjects, he did learn.  He was my _aristh_ , and I had to put him through his paces.  He still had to learn how to tail-fight properly, and I was the best to teach him, even when we had been on the Dome.  Perhaps one of the proudest days of my life will be the day he can beat me.  (True, it will also be my most humiliating – in a good way – but it will be one of my proudest.)  Until then, I would continue to hide my grins at his frustrations at being unable to block me in the simplest of maneuvers.

The rest of the meal was filled with simple conversation, and when we finished I waved her away into the living room so I could clean the dishes.  While Loren protested, it hadn’t been anything more than a token gesture and she left.  Champ, after a moment of deliberation, followed her, though he did pause to make sure I didn’t plan on giving him any leftovers.

There was only one true problem with cooking, and that was the number of dishes that had to be cleaned afterwards.  But, all in all, I think I deemed it a necessary evil and accepted it.  And, really, washing dishes wasn’t that big of an issue.  Once the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put away, I joined Loren in the living room.  She had turned on the radio and was listening to the weather.

“Rain,” she pronounced, sighing.  Sometimes I marveled at her ability to hear my presence.

“I like the rain,” I said.

“Because you don’t have to smell wet dog,” she said, scratching Champ’s head. 

I chuckled and then reported, “I put the rest of the stew in the refrigerator, third shelf from the top in a square Tupperware about two inches deep.”

“I’ll find it,” she said.

“And the rest of the bread is in the microwave,” I finished before listening to the song that started to play.  “Louis Armstrong.  _What a Wonderful World_.”

“I’d be more impressed if _everyone_ didn’t know the title of that song,” Loren said. 

“It’s a good Earth song,” I commented.

She smiled.  “I’ve never heard of it described that way.  An Earth song.”

Part of me winced at my mistake.  “Well, it is.  The way it describes the planet.” 

“I guess so.”  She hummed along with it, perhaps not knowing the words, and I joined in as I sat.  There were a few bits where we both sang along, and by the end Loren sang extravagantly, “Oooooooh yeah!”

“Lovely,” I laughed.

She straightened and sat primly.  “Thank you.  You’re not to so tone-deaf yourself.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you were in key.”

“Ass!” she grinned, hitting my arm. 

“No, but close alphabetically.”

Loren shook her head at me.  “Do you try to be clever?”

“No, it just comes naturally.”

“It fails, just so you know.”

“Ouch.”

“You know, though, you sound like a natural bathroom baritone.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the reference.”

She smiled.  “Singing the shower.”

“Oh.  No, no, I don’t sing in the shower,” I denied.  I didn’t shower, since I was usually an Andalite, and even if I did, I wouldn’t sing.  And I do not think I sang in such a location when I had been human all those years back.  I might have _hummed_ along with music, but I didn’t sing along.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No!”

“Fine, I’ll believe you, for now.”

“For now,” I repeated, sighing.  I would have said more, but there was a ringing in my pocket.  My phone.  “Oh, that’s my phone.  Excuse me.”

I stood and moved away some feet before I opened it.  “Hello.”

Marco was on the other end.  He was reporting that Jake said Tom said _The Sharing_ was funding a mayoral candidate.  While I did appreciate the information, my temper was climbing due to the timing.  Why did he have to choose _now_ to tell me this?  Couldn’t it have waited until the morning?

But that was me being irresponsible.  The children knew I liked to be informed about such things as soon as reasonably possible.  So I thanked him, wished him a good evening before hanging up.

“Bad news?” Loren asked.

“Nothing terrible, but I have to leave,” I said, somewhat forcing the words.  Just because I wished to spend time with Loren, it wasn’t enough to waste time on learning about this very probably Controller.  “I’m sorry.”

She smiled, though it seemed a bit sad.  “Hey, it’s all right.  It’s part of your job.”

“Thanks for understanding.”  I bent to give her a kiss on the cheek, but caught myself at the last moment and merely squeezed her shoulder.  “Have a good evening.”

Loren set her hand on top of mine and squeezed back.  “You, too.  Don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try.  See you, Champ.”

Once I was in my van, I sighed.  Whomever this candidate was, he wasn’t going to be winning anything.  Not after what he had done.  Driving away, I wondered how to fix the vote.  Didn’t someone do something with cemeteries?  I had to look into it.

 ****


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those Pesky Aliens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 14

One thing that was annoying about being human was the many bills I was now forced to pay.  True, it should not be a big concern for me, since my money was stolen from Yeerk enterprises or made by several very profitable stock options.  (I didn’t steal _everything_.)  Aside from the weekly grocery bill, there was heating, electricity, water, telephone, cable, automotive and home insurance, and credit card statements, to name a few, that had to be paid.  Sitting at the table, I had to balance everything, making sure “my” account wasn’t overdrawn.  It might sound easy, but since I had to make sure that particular account did not get high and draw Yeerk attention back to me, I ended up balancing several different accounts.  I had a three folders filled with all the appropriate paperwork. 

I was going to hate it when tax season came around.  I could already tell.

Wondering if I could somehow get everything to automatically withdraw from my accounts as I hunted for the envelope meant to go to the electricity, bill and check lodged in my teeth, I was surprised when two birds nearly collided into the window.  It was very likely that if there weren’t the shelves for the flowers – _which they were landing in and destroying!_ – the two would have had a very difficult time.

A normal human would have perhaps ignored them, but I recognized the forms and I leapt up even as my brother said my name.  Within a few seconds I had the window opened, and I hoped they wouldn’t fly in.  Or, if they did, that they wouldn’t land on the table and mess up my filing, such as it was.  (There was a system!  It was not just a pile of papers!)

“What are you two doing?” I demanded, the piece of paper removed from my mouth. 

‹There is a Hork-Bajir in the woods!› Tobias said.

Now that was odd, because normally the Hork-Bajir were kept in the Pool or on the ship, because if any human saw them, it’d be game over.  “What was it doing?” I demanded.

‹No, no, it escaped, Elfangor.›

 _A trick_ , I instantly thought.  “Tell me everything.”

So they did.  It was Tobias and Aximili’s turn to do a patrol after school.  I had the children and Aximili do basic surveillance in pairs every Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, training them in baby steps.  They chose their pairs and their days without my intervention, chose their surveillance targets at their own discretion unless I deemed a particular location or person was necessary.  _Arisths_ on Dome ships had similar responsibilities, things they had to do to train them to take a greater share of the responsibility.  After all, we cannot simply drop the untried into battle without a little preparation.  (Well, ideally, anyway.  The children and Aximili had already faced terrible battles, more any any _aristh_ under normal circumstances, but it was still important to teach the everyday responsibilities.)

They had been flying when they saw two Hork-Bajir come up from beneath a tree during their flight.  (Another Yeerk pool entrance?!  So close to the forest?)  The Hork-Bajir had quickly been chased by Controllers, Controllers armed with guns, and Aximili and Tobias had come to the decision to help the Hork-Bajir.  They had one hidden in a cave, but the other, the mate, was last seen rolling into a ditch.

‹Do you think the Hork-Bajir is actually free, Elfangor?› Aximili asked, and I heard the unasked question.  _Did we make a mistake?_

“It is entirely possible, or a _very_ elaborate trap,” I replied.  “Tobias, tell the other children and have them meet here.  Aximili, go watch the Hork-Bajir, but to not make yourself known.”

‹What are you going to do?› my brother asked.

I was going to finish my bills, and I was going to carefully think about this.  If this was a trap, that was one thing.  (And what a strange trap it would be!  Hork-Bajir as bait.)  But, it these were free Hork-Bajir, even if it was just the one, what could we do for the poor creature?  It would not be right to leave it to be recaptured, but we could not let it merely wander the forest.  Hork-Bajir are like toddlers, needing constant attention and someone watching for their safety.  They were too simple to care for themselves on Earth, so close to civilization.  And I was not being arrogant or speciesist!  It was a simple fact.  If we were to keep this Hork-Bajir free, it would need our care, and I could not keep such a thing in the basement.

After my brother left, promising to return within the hour when the children would mostly likely present themselves, I settled back to the table and looked at the papers.  Suddenly I felt an inexplicable urge to push the whole lot of it to the floor, but I didn’t, because that would have only made a huge mess for me to clean up.  Instead, I located my checkbook and account ledger, very carefully signed my name to the many checks, and made sure each of the bills went in the correct envelope. 

Task complete and no more closer to deciding how to deal with the Hork-Bajir, I went to the cupboards and started to withdraw the necessary foods to make a nice snake.  Chex mix sounded like it would suit.  (I did try to avoid always having snacks of potato chips, cheet-os, and chocolates, as I knew that, while very tasty, such foods were not good to have in excess.  A Prince has to take care of his _arisths_ in all ways, and I did not want to have their parents call me and complain about what I served them.)

When the children arrived, and Aximili soon afterwards, my brother reported that the Hork-Bajir was still in the cave.  Acting as if I hadn’t given all of this due consideration, they wondered allowed if this was some sort of trap, and then if it wasn’t, what we could do with the free Hork-Bajir. 

“It’s lucky you two were flying right over there when they came out,” Rachel said.

Aximili and Tobias looked at each other before Tobias said slowly, “Actually, we were going to fly over the North side, but we got sort of … lost.”

My head raised and I looked at my brother in concern.  “Are you ill?”

Aximili shook his head as he paused getting another handful of the mix.  “I am well.  Perhaps we flew over a strong magnetic field and it confused us.”

It was a poor theory.  There was nothing that would cause such a thing, and if there _was_ , the Yeerks had built it in supreme secrecy, a fact that I did not like at all.  However that was a worry for another day.  This Hork-Bajir had be be dealt with first, because I wagered that Controllers would soon be combing the forest looking for him and his mate.

“Let’s go meet this Hork-Bajir.”

 ****

Leery of Hork-Bajir because I my lifetime of fighting Controllers, I was not especially eager to meet another, even if he was free.  Mostly, I think it was because I also had no desire to be responsible for it as well.  Hork-Bajir are too simple, and I did not want what could amount to a very dumb pet under my care.  Already dealing with the children, my patience would not be up to the task.

Aximili led me to the cave, while the children circled around in either their preferred battle forms or as a look-out.  Once Rachel reported everything was clear, I called to the Hork-Bajir, ‹Hork-Bajir, are you inside?›

There was a voice in the affirmative, and I nearly rolled my eyes.  Another creature might have taken my statement as a hint to step outside of the cave.

‹Very good.  I’m glad you realize you are still inside.  Would you please come out of the cave?›

The bushes moved and the Hork-Bajir started to come out, but once he actually _saw_ my brother and me, he jerked into an attack position.  Aximili and I did the same.

“You are Hruthin.  Andalite,” he accused.

I wanted to be snide.  I very much did, but I kept my thoughts to myself.  ‹Yes, we are.  My brother and his friend assisted you earlier today, remember.›  There was a bit of confusion on his face, and I sighed.  ‹They were birds at the time.›

“You kill me?”

‹Do you want me to?›

He took a step back, blades even more at the ready, and I scolded myself.

‹No.  No, I won’t kill you.›

“Hruthin kill Hork-Bajir,” he protested, not believing me.

While Marco chanted some inane children’s rhyme, I said back, ‹Only those under the control of Yeerks.  Are you under their control?›

He slapped his chest with a laugh.  “Jara Hamee escaped the Yeerks!” he boosted, like how a young Andalite might tell how they jumped in a puddle and made a big splash, or a human child, a full potty.  “Jara Hamee free!  Jara Hamee has his own head.”

‹His name’s Jeremy?› Jake asked.  ‹You’re kidding me.›

‹Jara Hamee, actually,› Tobias corrected.

‹Do you really have your own head?› I asked.

When Jara Hamee proceeded to prove he “had his own head,” I believe I was the only one who was not shocked or surprised.  While I had never seen a Hork-Bajir actually do that, I was very well-aware of their ability to survive such injuries.  I learned very quickly that if you were going to attack a Hork-Bajir, you removed their head; you did not merely imbed your blade in it.

‹Can I just say, yuck, ewwww?›

‹Can we add, owieeeeeee?›

‹Who else just had the pee scared of them?›

‹I suppose that will do for proof,› I said, blasé.  ‹Will you be all right?›

His face contorted in pain, Jara Hamee nodded.  “Jara Hamee is strong.  But Jara Hamee needs help.”

‹You wish us to save your mate as well,› I said.  Hork-Bajir were mated pairs.

“Yes.  My Kalashi.  Want free.”

I sighed.  ‹We can only promise to try, Jara Hamee.›

His made a face.  “Hruthin make many promises.  Keep none,” he spat.

‹Don’t we?› I said, voice cold. 

‹Elfangor, umm … not to rush or anything, but I’ve got like 20 Controllers heading this way,› Cassie called.

‹Me too.  Ah, man, and with Hork-Bajir.  It’s not even dark!› Rachel added.

‹They must really be desperate for our boy,› Jake said.

‹Well, whatever we’re going to do, we got to do it fast.  My dad’ll ground me for _life_ if I miss dinner again.  He’s going to tell me I can’t come over and play with Ax anymore, I can tell, and he’s going have _words_ with you, Elfangor.›

‹Thank you for the warning, Marco,› I said dryly.  I thought quickly.  We couldn’t afford to actually bring the Hork-Bajir out into the open.  The question was whether or not the Controllers would bother to even chase us, their “Andalite bandits.”

‹Umm … could one of us morph him, give them something to chase?› Tobias suggested.

‹I’ll do it!› Rachel volunteered.  ‹My eyes are crapping out anyway in this darkness.›

‹We can’t just morph him!› Cassie protested.  ‹He’s sentient!  We have to ask his permission, at least.  But we’d better do it fast!›

If she didn’t insist on asking permission, we’d have even more time.  However, I said to the Hork-Bajir.  ‹Yeerks are in the woods.  One of us will morph you to trick the Yeerks.  May we trick the Yeerks?›

“Jara Hamee hates Yeerks.”

Good enough for me.  ‹Then turn around and keep your eyes closed.  Do it now,› I said firmly.

‹I should do it,› Aximili said as Rachel got to the ground.

He was right, but Rachel was already demorphing.  ‹No way, I got dibs.›

‹Dibs?›

‹It was my idea,› Tobias pointed out reluctantly.

‹Rachel just wants her outsides to match her insides,› Marco said.

Once Rachel was human and acquired the Hork-Bajir, I ordered Jara Hamee back into the cave as she morphed the creature.  When she finished, she stood practicing the poise and blades.  ‹Man, I could get used to this.›

I could hear the Controllers approaching.  Hopefully we’d get through this without being severely injured.  ‹We’ve played this game before.  Chase the Controllers away, don’t fight unless absolutely necessary.  Cassie, Tobias, keep us abreast with your eyes,› I ordered.

‹Why can’t you ever give us good orders?  Like, _eat all the ice cream in the freezer_ , or _, here, go use my totally unlimited credit cards and buy yourselves something really cool_?› Marco whined.  ‹It’s always, _go fight, don’t get yourselves killed_.›

‹Marco, please be quiet.›

‹Or that.›

‹I think that’s one of my favorite orders,› Jake grinned to his friend.

‹Pity he never listens,› Rachel added.  ‹And let’s do it.›

With Cassie and Tobias guiding us from the sky, we held a definite advantage over the Controllers and the small skirmish was hardly even something worth noting.  Upon returning to the cave, I was _very_ surprised to find one more Hork-Bajir than I had left.  The pair were already bonding, and Tobias, in an uncertain sort of voice, told me how he had help her get away from Visser Three.

‹Visser Three?!› I repeated.  ‹Why did you not get me?›

‹There wasn’t time,› he defended.  ‹You guys were already fighting and far away and –›

‹Then why did you depart from us?› I asked, slightly alarmed.  He hadn’t been running away, had he?

‹I sort of … was.  And I heard shots,› he tried to explain. ‹I was just there.›

‹“Just there,”?› I repeated. 

‹Look, I was flying over you guys, and then I banked to look at some Controllers, and then I was a quarter of a mile away,› he said hotly, probably upset at my disbelief.  ‹I don’t know _how_ I got there.  But then I saw Ket Halpak and I had to help her get away.›

My blood turned cold at his words and I had stopped paying attention.  No, no, _not again_.  I would not accept this!  The bending time, it was just a fluke!  It is not _mean_ anything.  Could it _please_ not mean what it could mean, just this once?  Dealing with Ellimists a _third_ time was not a charm I wanted.

‹Look, this is great, but I have to get home before my mom grounds me.  Since this is probably going to be a pretty big weekend, I don’t think we should let her do that,› Rachel said.

‹Like your mom would ground you, Ms. Over-Achieving Packard Foundation Outstanding Student.  People that get awards like that are freaks.›

‹Marco, you’re just jealous.›

‹Jealous!  Dude, I’m _normal!_   A C-average is _normal!_ ›

‹And the changing into a monkey, that’s totally normal, too,› Jake said.

Marco scoffed.  ‹Everyone has weird hobbies.  But being on the _honor roll_ , that’s just disgusting.›

‹What is this honor roll?› Aximili asked.

‹It’s when you get all A’s in class,› Cassie said.

‹Ah.›  Aximili didn’t elaborate beyond that, because I had a feeling that, while he was a decent student – far better than Marco – he had never gotten onto an Andalite honor roll-equivalent unless it was by accident.  I do not mean to disparage Aximili, but I think my brother was always more interested in the driftball games than his studies.  Who wouldn’t be?

‹You all should return, anyway.  Aximili and I will watch the Hork-Bajir tonight.  Come, we will walk you to the edge of the forest.›

‹What are we even going to do with these guys?› Jake asked.

‹We could take them to the media, show them real live aliens,› Rachel suggested.

‹You already have real live aliens,› Aximili pointed out.  ‹And I don’t think any humans would believe you, anyway.›

‹And we could just be giving them right back to the Yeerks.  We don’t know which TV stations they have under control,› Cassie added.

‹So … what?  We rent them an apartment and let them mingle with the neighbors?›

‹Could we ask the Chee to help?› Tobias suggested.

I shook my stalks.  ‹It could provide a temporary relief, but Hork-Bajir need tree bark to eat and survive.›

‹Talk about fiber.›

‹Marco, shut up,› Rachel said.

‹There’s got to be somewhere they can go,› Cassie said.  ‹Deeper into the forest or something.›

‹Or up in the mountains,› Tobias added.

Aximili nodded.  ‹I think I remember finding a valley up there when I first arrived.  It was hidden.  There was a river and lots of trees.›

‹Could you find it again?› I asked.

‹I believe so.  It was very difficult to find the entrance.  I only found it because a bird startled me when it flew out of it.  One of those colorful birds that talk.  I see them in stores.›

‹A parrot?› Cassie said, surprised.  ‹It might have escaped its owner.  We always get people telling us about wild parakeets and parrots that escaped.  There’s some in San Francisco.  But usually you get a flock of them, not just one.  They like flocks.›

Part of me realized it was a desperate plan, a poor hope.  But it was all we had.  The Hork-Bajir could not stay so close to civilization.  They had to be taken further away.  Whether or not there was this valley was a moot point.  ‹We will attempt to take the Hork-Bajir there, then.  We have no other recourse.   Now go home before you all are grounded.›

 ****

My hope at it being not an Ellimist, as the humans say, crashed and burned when Tobias flew into the woods and said he had a dream about Taxxons tracking us.  (While I would not scold or otherwise accuse him, I believed he had chosen to spend the night at my house.)  Signs from a dream were tantamount to other-wordly involvement. 

Taxxon trackers, specially bred for their tasks, were notoriously difficult to lose.  For a moment, I thought about finding and disposing of them, but there would be many of them, backed up with Hork-Bajir and armed human Controllers, neither of which were good odds.  (It was times like these when I greatly desired a Shredder.)  But, if there were Taxxons tracking us, they _had_ to be taken care of, otherwise they would just follow us to wherever we would be.  There was no point in hiding the Hork-Bajir if we were just going to lead the Yeerks to them.

I sent Tobias to tell the other children, Aximili to lead the Hork-Bajir to the valley, while I took to the air to find our tail.  I needed to know how far of a lead we held, the speed the Yeerks were moving, and how many we were going to face at the end of all this.  With the eyes of the owl, it didn’t take me long to find them, and I flared my wings up to land, looking in shock.  It was a whole battalion and then some.  Dozens of Taxxons, thirty or more Hork-Bajir, and too many humans to count.  There was no way I could fight them, thin out their numbers in a way that would be effective.  I could deal with a few Taxxons with a fly-by, swoop down and wound them so their compatriots would turn on them.  But not all of them, because I _would_ eventually be seen and shot at.  Even the dark would not give me complete safety.

But I could follow them, even drop a few sharp sticks and/or rocks on unsuspecting Controllers.  That way, I could stick to the shadows and treetops, relatively safer.

Even with my mischief, though, the Controllers were making a decent time.  I only hoped Aximili and the two Hork-Bajir were going faster.  Once the sky lightened, I decided to rejoin my brother.  Only stopping long enough to refresh my time limit, I was in the air with a daylight-appropriate form.

When I found them, my stomach plummeted.  The children were already there, _human_!  In front of the Hork-Bajir!  

‹What have you done?!› I demanded, curving down to glare at them from a branch.  The Hork-Bajir jumped back and looked terrified at being scolded so, but my concern wasn’t for their sensibilities.  ‹How dare you reveal yourselves!›  _Especially without my expressed permission!_

The way Aximili was looking at them, I think he had fought them on this particular issue as well.

“We aren’t letting the Yeerks recapture them, Elfangor,” Tobias protested.

“Free or dead,” Jara Hamee said, a sort of false bravado in his voice. 

‹Do not tempt me to make the _or_ an _and_!› I snapped, and at the moment my anger made it was not an idle threat.  If pushed, I knew I would kill these two, freed or otherwise.  My safety and the children’s mattered more to me than those two lives. 

“Hey, Elfangor, chill, okay,” Rachel defended.

That insolent mouth was so very lucky I didn’t have access to my tail, because I don’t think I would have stopped myself from reacting like I would to any other _aristh_ that spoke that way to me. My brother might have noticed, for he took a few small steps to the side, further away.

“We had to demorph, Elfangor,” Cassie said.

I jumped to the ground and started my own demorphing, because I really, really could not scold them in this form.  I needed all my eyes, so I could stare at _all of them_.  ‹And you couldn’t go _that_ out of their sight, could you?  Not nearly enough cover to hide behind the hundreds of trees and bushes!›

The children were stepping away as I demorphed and the full projection of my anger came to their senses. 

“He’s going to kill us!” Marco whimpered.

‹I told you my brother wouldn’t be pleased,› Aximili hissed, somewhat vindicated.  But he was just as worried, because he must have realized he had his own responsibility and role in their actions.  He had failed to stop them, and that was something I wasn’t going to ignore.  While I did not mind him becoming friends with the children, he _was_ a trained _aristh_ and should act as such!  Not give in to peer-pressure or allow the children to put us in needless risks!

“Elfangor, we’re just –” Jake tried to defend, but my full Andalite glare silenced him.

Counting to ten, twenty, fifty, and a hundred did not lessen my anger.  But I couldn’t deal with this now.  Every second we were still allowed the Yeerks to come that much closer to us.  So I said ominously, ‹I will deal with all of you later.›

“Andalite kill us?” Ket Halpak asked, quavering, eyes on my tail.  Her mate was slightly in front of her, ready to defend her.

Looking at the Hork-Bajir, I felt a bit of pity cool my temper.  _They_ did not deserve my anger.  ‹Not unless I have to.  _Them_ , I have not decided on.›  My anger was back.

The Hork-Bajir looked between me and the children and Aximili.  “They very brave human folk,” Jara Hamee stated.

“Very,” his mate echoed.

I almost smiled.  They were trying to protect the children.  ‹And _very_ stupid.  Come.  The Yeerks are not far behind us, and we have much walking to do.  Aximili.›

For a moment, my brother looked terrified at me commanding his attention, until he realized I meant for him to lead us, and he practically rushed forward, nervously glancing at me.  He should, because we were going to have _words_ later.

There possibly was never a sorrier looking group of humans, and we started the climb.

It was a long while before the children started to making quiet conversation among themselves.  I scouted around, looking for troubles and mentally calculating how much closer the Yeerks were getting to us.  We still had to deal with them, and we’d have to deal with them soon.

It was a long walk, several hours going up hill.  Dimly I could hear the humans and Hork-Bajir complain of hunger or exhaustion.  One advantage of being an Andalite is the ease of getting food on a nature hike.

My mind did have one other occupation besides the Yeerks and the Hork-Bajir, something that allowed me mild amusement.  What sort appropriately vile punishment could I think of to punish them?  On the Dome, there were always the menial disgraceful tasks, the _unschweet_ , or haircut of disgrace, or other options.  On Earth, what could be useful?  Aximili, I had already decided, was going to be forbidden human foods and put through the most strenuous training session I could create.  The children, though, were another matter.  I couldn’t merely ground them or send them to their rooms without supper.

In the end, I decided I was going with menial labor, with toothbrushes and tweezers and other inefficient methods.  By the time I was done with them, I was going to have the cleanest house, garage, and vehicles and the most immaculate lawn in the whole state.

It was hardly enough, though.  Stupid children.  Stupid, stupid children.

And then I heard the distant sound of helicopters.  And smelled smoke.

‹MORPH!›

 ****

Sometimes the amount of our dumb luck can surprise me.  Pure trickery had allowed us to save Jara Hamee and Ket Halpak from the Yeerks, made the Yeerks think the Hork-Bajir were dead.  And then this valley.  Whether or not it had been created by the Ellimist was a moot point.  It was beautiful, secluded, safe.  The Hork-Bajir would be secure and comfortable here, dining on a variety of Earth trees.  From the air or ground, it was hidden from sight.

The Hork-Bajir agreed, because Jara Hamee examined the area.  “Good place.  Good place for _kawatnoj_.”

My stalks raised at the statement, though the humans and Aximili didn’t understand the translation.  ‹Yes.  Yes, it is a good place,› I agreed.  ‹ Congratulations.›

“Umm … what is _kawatnoj_?” Tobias asked timidly, voicing what all of the children were too scared to ask.

The Hork-Bajir laughed, and I also gave a little smile.  “ _Kawatnoj_ mean small Hork-Bajir.  Small Jara Hamee.  Small Ket Halpak,” Ket Halpak explained proudly.

“Children,” Cassie’s eyes widened.  “They mean children.”

‹Yes,› I said.  ‹The first Hork-Bajir born in freedom in many long years.›  My smile turned a bit bitter.  ‹How very convient for the Ellimist to show his interest in an expanding Hork-Bajir couple.›

‹Do you think there is a reason?› my brother asked.

I didn’t answer, because how could anyone determine the reasons of an Ellimist?  Instead, I looked around.  ‹We shall depart.  Jara Hamee, Ket Halpak, we shall visit.  But do not leave this valley.  It is not safe.›  Even as I said it, I realized that for a while, the Hork-Bajir would not be interested in leaving this area.  But some things had to be said. 

In the air, we were all silent.  The levity that had come about in discovering the valley and escaping the Yeerks had evaporated from the children and Aximili as they were presented with just me.  A still very angry me.

‹Elfangor …› Jake started.

‹I would suggest all of you enjoy your last day of freedom,› I said firmly.  ‹Because after this stunt, you will not be having any for a _very_ long time.›

‹Come on.  Everything turned out okay,› Rachel protested.

‹Do you think that _matters_?› I snapped.  ‹Because _this_ time everything ended up “okay,” risks like this can be taken?›

‹We know we messed up, Elfangor,› Jake said in a humble tone.  ‹We’re sorry.  It’s my fault, really--›

‹Do not even attempt to take the blame, Jake,› I interrupted, even angrier.  ‹It is _all_ of your faults.  All of your blame.  When one warrior falters and no one stops his mistake when they know it is one, everyone is at fault.›

There was quiet for a long flight.  ‹So … are you going to kill us?› Marco asked in a very light manner, trying to mask his nervousness.

‹By the time I’m done with you, you might wish I had.›

 ****

“You do know that slave labor is illegal, don’t you?” Loren asked conversationally as we walked down the sidewalk.  Champ was on Loren’s other side, guiding her as he was trained even as held her hand.

“So you don’t want your home cleaned or yard done.”

Loren shook her head at my direction.  “I can’t believe you, sometimes.  I mean, I’m sure they all did something terrible that really warranted you going all Drill Master on their butts, but don’t you think measuring and cutting the grass to an even length is a bit much?”

“No.”

“They’re going to mutiny on you.”

“No.  No they won’t.  Otherwise I’ll tell their parents.”  Well, not the truth, of course, but I had appropriately vile things I vowed to report.  Even Rachel backed down when I promised to report I caught her attempting to steal my credit cards.   One way or another, I was going to make their lives miserable.

“I’m almost thinking they would prefer it,” Loren stated.  “You were in the army or something, weren’t you?”

“I do have a small military background,” I admitted without shame.  “They should be thankful I’m not making them do push-ups in the rain or running laps.  Doing simple cleaning tasks is hardly bothersome.”

“You just don’t want to clean,” she accused playfully.

“No, what I don’t want to do is kill them.  So I am settling for this.”

“They’re going to murder you in your sleep.”

I shrugged.  “I sleep with one eye open.  They can try.”

“Sounds like a dare.”  She laughed, and then looked a bit concerned.  “I just hope you’re not scaring all of Ax’s friends away with this little tyrant-dictatorship thing you’ve got going.”

“They might be angry at me, but all of them know they deserve this,” I said.  “It was a terrible breach of trust.  And no doubt they are all bonding as they grumble about me, even my brother.”

“So you’re punishing them and cementing your brother’s friendships?  Geez, you do multi-task,” she said sarcastically.

“Sometimes the best friendships come about because of mutual complaints.”

She sighed.  “Alan, really, I think you should just ease up on them.  They’re kids.”

“Children that have responsibilities.”

“I’m sure they got the point.”

“I’m making sure they do.”

“They’re not in the army, Alan,” she protested.  “They’re kids.  Fine, they made a mistake, but you’re taking this too far.”

“I don’t think I’m taking it far enough.”  And they _were_ in the army.

She frowned at me and let go of my hand.  “You really can be an ass, you know.”

Slightly hurt at the gesture and what it meant, I agreed.  “But even if I am, that is no excuse for their actions.”

“And it shouldn’t be an excuse for yours!” she snapped.

“Shouldn’t it?” I countered.  “I’m supposed to turn a blind eye to them, let them put themselves in danger?”

“Of course not!  But this, what you’re doing, it’s just … it’s just stupid!”

My own temper was rising.  “And what _should_ I do?”

“Actually _tell_ their parents.  It’s not your job to punish them.”

I _was_ their commanding officer.  It _was_ my job.  “What they did was a private matter between them and myself,” I said tightly.

“All you’re doing now is blackmailing them.  Do these things or I tell your parents.”

“Blackmail?” I repeated, incredulous and not a little insulted.  “They practically got themselves killed three days ago!”

“And if they did, their parents have a right to know!  You can’t keep secrets like that from them!  It isn’t right.”

I gave a humorless laugh.  “Very _little_ is right in this world, Loren.”

“Well, you’re just making it less right,” she replied.  “You’re being a vindictive little jerk to them, because they’re kids and didn’t know better.”

“They _knew_.”

She brushed aside her hair roughly.  “And they’re _kids_.  Don’t tell me you never did something you knew was stupid and dangerous when you were their age.  They made a _mistake_.”

“Mistakes get people killed.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat.  “You know what.  I can’t talk to you about this.  I can’t deal with you like this, because you know something.  You’re not always right.”

“I know I’m not,” I snapped back.  “And do you want to know something?  At least _I’m_ raising my family, instead of hiding from it!  So don’t play the Little Ms. Perfect with me, Loren.” After a pause as I tried to control my temper, I said, “I trust you can find your way home by yourself.  I just remembered I have important something to do.  Good day.”

I walked rapidly away, fists clenched at my sides.  While intellectually I knew I could not expect Loren to understand exactly how terrible the children and my brother’s crime was, I was still infuriated that she presumed to understand and question my judgment. 

“Alan!”

For a moment, I thought about ignoring her, but there were some things I wouldn’t stoop to.  I stopped and turned.  She hadn’t sped up to catch me, merely stopped walking.  I could tell she wasn’t going to admit I was right in this.  Even from the distance I could see her anger.  Champ was looking between us with confusion on his face.  “What?”

“Ease up on them, Alan.  I may not be much of a mother, but I’m telling you as one – Ease up.”

My face was sneering.  However, even though she wouldn’t see, I gave a mocking bow.  “As you wish.  Their sentences have been lifted and their crimes, pardoned.”  And then I turned on my heel and walked away.

 ****

I hadn’t visited Loren in over two weeks before this visit.  The length wasn’t completely due to our recent fight, which had been mended a little before the hiatus.  After that particular argument, I hadn’t been eager to return.  Perhaps my pride might have been too great, but then again, so could have hers.  Neither of us felt we had been wrong, and, with distance, I could admit that _maybe_ neither of us were. 

Our history, as any true relationship, had never been free of disagreements.  We had had our share, some where I had been in the fault, some where she had, some where neither, and some where both.  Separated by time, I could now admit with fondness that a few of our arguments had been _spectacular_.  Yes, perhaps a strange adjective to describe a fight, especially with _fondness_ , but Loren had never backed down and never resorted to tears or other guilt methods.  There was something beautiful about her when she had the fire in her eyes and her face high in emotion, even if it was anger directed at me.

And there were definite uses and benefits if that anger could be channeled right.

While I had been still angry at our fight, I was not so childish as to sever contact with her.  That would have been like running away from a fight, and I did not run away from anything if I could help it.  And especially not from Loren.  But I did not apologize.  I called her regularly, perhaps getting the answering machine more often than not, and when she did answer, both of us kept our voices cool.  My visits didn’t resume until Loren offered, and we slowly started to get back to our former level of comfort.

The reason for our lack of contact recently was because the Yeerks had been troublesome, and I could not visit Loren during those times.  Already I had cancelled many of my planned visits at the last minute, and quite a few I had to apologize for missing altogether without any notice. I told her my job took me out of town.  Perhaps she didn’t believe me, but there was nothing I could do about that.  Whatever her true feelings, she did not seem to remain angry at those desertions for long, but I feared that was because my few visits were preferable to no visits at all.

I think I agreed with the sentiment.

I sat comfortably on the couch with Champ’s head on my thigh, reading aloud from a book.  Loren was curled against my side listening.

The clock chimed down the hall.  It was late.  I would have to leave soon.  I always left by ten at the latest. Even still, I continued to read quietly.  Sometimes I risked rubbing Loren’s arm with my thumb, brushing her hair with my fingertips.  Never too much.  Almost accidental.  Except it wasn’t accidental.

She never changed her shampoo scent.  Strawberry.

When it was quarter to, I ceased reading.  Champ opened his eyes and questioned my silence, panting.  I smiled and petted him.  He was a good dog, a good protector.  It took a long time for him to not see my Andalite form as a threat, as I demorphed in the bathroom when I stayed over two hours.  That was becoming often.

“Hey, boy,” I said and turned my head to Loren.  She was leaning heavily against me.  She had fallen asleep, I suppose.  Very carefully I pushed Champ off and untangled her from me.  Then, just as gently I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to her room.  Champ followed me, watched as I placed his mistress in bed.

Once she was under the covers I allowed myself the luxury of staring at her.  I brushed aside her hair, ghosting over the scars.  My eyes watered.  My Loren was still beautiful, of course.  I had seen her inner strength, and that’s what I loved.  But she was hurt because of me. 

“Can you ever forgive me?” I murmured, leaning down and touching my human lips to her forehead.  “I should never have left.  I’m sorry.”

When I turned, Champ was resting his head on the bed.

“You watch her, Champ,” I smiled, and he wagged his tail.  “Be a good boy.”

I left the house then, walking down to where I parked my vehicle.  The van, of course.  Only a fool would park a Mustang in this sort of neighborhood.  I drove back to my house and parked the car, went inside.  It was dark.  Good.  I did not need Aximili questioning what I had done tonight, if he could come along next time.  Let him think I was fighting the Yeerks in some fashion.  That he could understand.  Wooing a human female he never could.

I drank a glass of water before demorphing, tossing my clothes into the hamper for washing.  It was odd.  As an Andalite, I should not like being inside the house, should want to remain outside in the forests, but it was here I was sleeping, here I felt home.  Aximili, on the other hand, had constructed a scoop just in the forest, where he resided and spent his nights.

I went up the stairs, difficult with four hooves, but manageable.  Far more than going down, in any case.  Wish to see something funny; have an Andalite walk down a flight of stairs. 

All of the bedroom doors were open, and I looked to see that none of the children were spending the night, even Tobias.  I felt a pang in my hearts there.  Even still, I went to my room.

The curtains were drawn tightly, the blinds down.  Good.  I wouldn’t sleep on the bed.  Andalites do not sleep on soft ground, how a mattress would feel.  I settled on the floor and spent a few minutes on the computer, looking for possible Yeerk problems.  I easily bypassed their securities.  Nothing of pressing interest, but I made note of things to watch. Then I fell asleep.

 ****

Effortlessly manipulating the chopsticks – I had mastered this years ago during late night study sessions – I tried to not be too overly suspicious in what Cassie and Rachel were reporting.  The others were doing that well enough.  I had to at least look willing to believe, or at least willing to hear.  A Prince has to be approachable for all manner of circumstances when dealing with Yeerks.

“So, a horse, out in Zone 91, tried to make a phone call, and you think a Yeerk slithered out of its ear?” Marco summarized.  “You know, before a Dracon blast blew everything up.”

Rachel glared at Marco.  “I know what I saw.  _We_ know what we saw.  It was a Yeerk, Elfangor.”

“Why would Yeerks want to make horses Controllers?  Do they have special powers?” my brother asked before shoveling a forkful of noodles into his mouth.  (He told me he would never use chopsticks again, even when I replied that he could not expect to be a proficient if he didn’t practice more than that one time.  Ever the pragmatic, Aximili stated it didn’t matter what utensils he used, as long as the food got to his mouth.)

Cassie shook her head.  “No.  They’re not really smart.  Pretty dumb, actually.  They’re fast and strong, but not the fastest or strongest around.”

“Maybe they’re infesting them for fun,” Jake suggested.

Yes, and perhaps I would grow another tail.  “What is this Zone 91?  Is it like Area 51?”

Marco looked at me like I had just asked him what color the sky was.  “You spend _hours_ on the Internet, and you don’t know what Zone 91 is?”

“That’s because, you know, Elfangor actually does work.  Not waste time stalking girls in chatrooms pretending to be a handsome millionaire,” Rachel said.  “And I go on the Internet, and I don’t know what it is.”

“Well, I’m relatively normal, unlike Marco, and I know what Zone 91 is,” Jake defended.

“Not something to boast about.”

“Zone 91 is like the ultimate conspiracy place, where the UFOs and time travel and aliens are studied,” Marco explained.  “The Roswell crash, the ships are there.  Forget Area 51, that’s just a smoke-screen.  The _real_ action is at Zone 91.”

“As opposed to here,” I replied calmly, helping myself to another egg roll. 

“So the Yeerks finally started getting their news from the tabloids,” Tobias said. 

“Those may be a viable source of news,” Aximili said.  “The Skrit Na, for instance, are known to routinely pick up other species and conduct experiments on them.  They have probably come to Earth, as the images I have seen correspond to how they generally appear.  They are very wide-spread, an ancient race, but very unsophisticated technologically.  We Andalites theorize they learned space travel over fifty millenia ago, but they never advanced beyond what they have now, so that we know, anyway.  They have no home world.”

“You mean the Roswell crash could have actually _happened?_ ” Marco asked.

Jake looked at his friend.  “We’re fighting the Yeerks, and you’re shocked that a spaceship could have actually crashed already?”

“So the Yeerks are interested in Zone 91 because they want the space ship,” Tobias said.

I shook my head, though not in actual disagreement.  “A Skrit Ra ship is generally less advanced than any Yeerk vessel, and that one, if it did crash, would several decades old, I imagine.  If the Yeerks know it is a Skrit Na ship, I doubt they would expend the energy.”

“But maybe it’s not,” Cassie pointed out.  “Or maybe they just don’t know and are trying to find out the truth.”

“The truth is out there,” Marco intoned, and most of the children giggled. 

“So we go out there and find out,” Tobias said.  “See if we can find more horse-Controllers?”

“It is a worthwhile venture,” I agreed.

Jake sighed.  “I can’t.  It’s my dad’s birthday and I have to be there to show that one son still loves him.”

“Tom’s not going?” Rachel asked.

“He _says_ he’ll be there, but he’s been busy with all this _Sharing_ business,” he said, face darkening.  He looked at me.  “I’m trying to find out what it is.”

“Do not put yourself in danger,” I consoled.  “And not everyone is needed, anyway.  I will go.  Do you wish to come as well, Aximili?”

My brother thought about it.  I could tell part of him wanted to just because I was.  If the Prince went, an _aristh_ should go as well.  But he also saw no pressing need to stop the Yeerks from getting a Skrit Na ship.  This was also basic surveillance, where more numbers weren’t needed.  “I can stay and monitor Controllers here, so you will not have to,” he said finally.  “If you would like.”

“I would be most grateful.”

“I’ll go.  To show you were it was,” Cassie said.

“I want to see if Zone 91 actually has aliens under glass.  Er, no offense,” Marco said.

Tobias put in hesitantly, “I’d like to go flying as well.”

Rachel looked around.  “I think I’ll sit this one out.  Cassie promised me I could pick out her outfits, and I want to head over to the grand re-opening of the Mall.  There’s going to be some great sales.  I can sense it.”

Cassie groaned.  “I should never have promised I’d let her buy me clothes.”

“Ax, you should come with,” Rachel grinned slyly.  “They’ll probably have free food galore.”

“Really?”

“Don’t do it, Ax-man,” Tobias laughed.  “She only wants you for your credit card.”

Cassie’s eyes were wide at the added horror and I consoled her.  “Do not worry.  It only has a five-hundred dollar limit.”  Apparently my words didn’t have the intended effect because she groaned and sank in her seat.

“Only a five-hundred dollar limit, he says,” Marco repeated.  “I wish _my_ dad would trust me with a five-dollar limit.”

“Will they have Cinnabon opened?” Aximili asked eagerly.

I shook my head.  Rachel’s plan no doubt worked against her.  It would be an uphill battle to get Aximili anywhere near a clothing store.

“Hey, instead of cleaning the gutters, Ax, do you think you could float me a loan for my dad’s present?” Jake asked after a very thoughtful pause.

Aximili was rather good at keeping his card under limit.  I could only hope he did not fold under the pressure of the other children, otherwise I might have to take it away.

 ****

As a pilot, I love to fly.  Though, anyone with half a brain would love to fly, I will admit.  The feel of the wind and the wide space.  It was a thing to cherish.

Going with children who would not be quiet for a single minute, however, was something that should be avoided.

The night before I spent some time “researching” this infamous Zone 91.  It was hardly research.  It was mostly me shaking my head at the absurdity of the human imagination.  But I did think of something.  If there was a ship – a very big if, I will admit – it was a _ship_.  There might be weapons.  It could be used to fight the Yeerks.

Of course, we would have to be very careful with it.  If it was low on technology, it would be little use in an actual fight.  And one ship against a whole Blade ship and its platoon was a suicide mission in and of itself.  But it was a resource, something that shouldn’t be wasted.  We could use it to travel outside the time limit, to reach the other side of the world. 

But all of this hinged on whether or not there was a ship.  If there was.

If there was, then it hinged on whether or not we could retrieve it.  Whether or not it was even worth retrieving.  Who knew what being in human “scientific” hands could have done to it, not to mention the supposed crash that brought it to this world.  I may be able to repair most things, but I could not be expected to “MacGyver” a space ship.  At least not to a level of approved safety, anyway.

We were near the border of the infamous Zone 91 when I ordered the children to land and demorph.  It would be foolish to demorph in an area that had signs proclaiming imprisonment, after all, and we found an area that offered some concealment. 

“I’m going to Zone 91, I’m going to Zone 91,” Marco chanted.

“You are such a dork,” Tobias said.

“Speak for yourself!  You were totally talking about Roswell and little green men before El –”

“Shut _up_ , Marco.”

“Oh, yeah, geek-boy, make me.”

‹Boys,› I scolded, more to stop them from being children than actually scolding them.  ‹We shall have to find these horses.  Do you know anything about them?›

Cassie said, “Aside from the mare, there was a white stallion.”

“Do you think there even is a spaceship here?” Tobias asked.  “A real flying saucer?”

‹If that is what the Yeerks are investigating, they would have had readings from the ship of non-Earth alloys and plastics,› I said.  ‹It is entirely possible.  But, probably unlikely.›

“The Yeerks can find things from other planets?” Marco demanded.

‹Within reason,› I allowed.  ‹They could not find the _Escafil_ _Device_.  It is too small for their instruments to pick up.›  And they could not find the Time Matrix because it was buried deeply, as well as being small when compared to a space ship.  Even if they did pick up its unnatural alloy, its depth and size would hint at a piece of debris that had buried and crashed.  And unless they did an indepth scan, they would not notice its unusual energy readings.  ‹Yeerk sensors most likely only pick up things on the surface of the planet.  Otherwise they could have easily found the Dome when it was under the ocean.  And they would only pay attention to readings that are of a significant size.›

After a sufficient rest period, we went back into the sky and hunted for the horse-Controllers, splitting up to cover more ground.  From where I flew, I found many small herds of horses, but to my knowledge, they seemed like true horses.  Part of me did marvel at the creatures, if only because this was a mirror of how ancient Andalites might have been.  _Very_ ancient Andalites, understand, because these creatures did seem very dim.  But we had been herd creatures just like these, family units caring for the young, keeping a watch for predators.  Would these horses have evolved in a similar way as we Andalites had?

Probably not, I thought as two males looked prepared to do battle to the death, and banked to find another group.

It wasn’t very long until Tobias flew out.  ‹Marco found them.  They’re by the base,› he informed.  ‹Cassie’s already over there.›  He paused.  ‹They’re talking horses, Elfangor.›

‹Talking?  What are they saying?›

‹We don’t know.  It’s not English.›

‹At least we know these are not normal horses,› I sighed.

Tobias led me to the others, and Cassie pointed out the horses.  ‹Some of them are real horses, I think.  Horses do that, join with others.›

I nodded and tried to listen.  ‹They are speaking _Galard_.  It is a universal language, how Star Trek treats English,› I smiled. 

‹Gene Roddenberry needs to get his facts straight,› Marco grumped.  ‹How can we save the planet if he keeps teaching us these lies?›

‹Umm, he’s dead, Marco,› Tobias said.

‹No excuse!›

Ignoring the children, I listened to the Controllers mutter and complain about their “stupid” mission in their “worthless” hosts, how they had to learn this secret otherwise Visser Three would have their heads.  Something about a back-up plan, if things didn’t go well, and I didn’t like that promise, because it hinted at taking the military as Controllers.  We could not afford to have Controllers in such positions, because it made it easier to take someone in a higher one, and a higher one, and a higher one.

‹At least they do not know what it is,› I informed, ‹though they are sure there is something.›

‹Why are they horses?› Cassie asked.

‹I believe it is their brilliant plan to use horses to get into the base.›

‹So they’ve been taking lessons from you,› Marco quipped.

I would have glared at him, if I had been in the right body.  ‹You three should head back before it gets late.›

‹We can’t just leave you here alone,› Tobias argued.

‹I will only be doing routine surveillance,› I promised.  ‹Hardly any danger.  Go, return home before it is too difficult to fly.›

At my order, however, the children didn’t leave.  I was about to become very cross with then until Cassie said quietly,  ‹Umm … I don’t think we know the way home.›

For a moment, I was shocked, and then I remembered humans couldn’t navigate like Andalites, and I sighed.  ‹Forgive me.  I forgot.›  Part of me wanted to stay, to tell them to merely follow the roads, but that was irresponsible.  They could still get lost, or accidentally go over the time limit.  I shouldn’t have even contemplated letting them go alone because of that simple fact.  ‹Come on, let’s return.›

I would return tonight.  How hard could it be to break into a human military base, after all?  I already had a morph in mind.

 ****

Aximili, feeling slightly guilty that he had not thought the mission worthwhile, joined me that night.  We drove the two hours needed to get the base, keeping up a steady chatter of nonsense in between eating the snacks we had stopped for at the gas station.  He told me in great detail what had happened at the mall with Jake and Rachel.

It was a good thing it was the grand re-opening, I thought to myself.  One more obsessive patron probably would not be noticed.  And I was not just speaking of Aximili.

The plan was the sneak in.  Not as horses, because that was a ridiculous plan and I was not surprised Yeerks thought of it.  No, we would go as bats.  Steathy and they had already proven their mettle in getting into secure locations.  We hid my convertible behind some bushes – and I hid the key in the bumper – before we went to the forms and into the night. 

It was a crazy, fun flight, and it satisfied hunger.  (I was a bat.  There was nothing _wrong_ with eating bugs.  We were blending in.)  Reaching the base, I could dimly “see” the horse-Controllers, still standing around. 

‹Now what do we do, Elfangor?› Aximili asked as we gripped the wall inside the base.  Humans around us went about their nighttime duties, all armed with weapons.  But they wouldn’t shoot at bats.

‹We wing it,› I grinned.

‹‘Wing it’?› he repeated.

‹Make it up as we go along,› I explained.

There was a pause.  ‹You have been hanging around the humans too much, Elfangor.›

I smiled to myself.  ‹Possibly.  We need to either get to an isolated computer console, or we need to get to this infamous secret.›

Now, if I were a secret humans were trying to hide, where would I be?  Ah, yes, in the giant building with a gunman on the top.  Humans were predictable like that.  We just had to get into that building.  But how?

We could not go under the doors.  They were probably tight to the ground so insects couldn’t get inside.  But there was a key pad.  Not that we could use it in this silly form.  Wait, a human was approaching.  He was going to enter!

‹Follow me!  And land carefully!› I ordered as I shot into the air, diving at the human.  At the very last second, I flared my wings to absorb the shock and gripped his jacket.  Aximili landed next to me, possibly not as softly, because the human shifted.  But he didn’t _feel_ us.

‹Hold on.  We’re going in.›

‹Elfangor, you have spent _too much time_ with the humans!› Aximili moaned.

I suppose Aximili expected a certain caliber of plans from me, and this had fallen very short.  Would it be terrible if I admitted that this was sort of fun, though?

Since it was night, there were few humans around, and we clung to this man as he walked the halls.  Any other humans did not notice us gripping his back.  This human appeared to be night shift, but no one very important.  However, when he went into a locker room and started to remove his jacket, it was clear Aximili and I would have to depart from his company. 

We fluttered up to the top of the lockers and watched him put his coat into a locker, pull out a lab coat.  Other humans entered, they spoke, and then they left.

‹Now what are we going to wing?› Aximili asked.

I thought about it.  ‹We have to demorph.  Now is as good of time, anyway.  Come on, to the stalls.›

We each took a stall and demorphed, and then, after a moment’s pause, I morphed human. 

‹What are you doing?› my brother asked, sticking his head out as I started toying with the lockers.

“It’ll be easier to get to a computer as a human.”

‹Should I – ›

“No.  You don’t have a human morph old enough.  But, if you wouldn’t mind ….” I gestered to the locks, and Aximili understood.  With a swipe of his tail, he broke the lock and I pulled it off.  There was a lab coat inside, and a set of shoes.  “Open a few more.  I need pants and a shirt, preferably in my size.”

It took breaking into about eight lockers to get clothes that fit, though the shoes pinched.  I even found a pair of reading glasses. After I fudged making a passable ID badge to clip to the coat, looking in the mirror, I saw I was almost presentable with the lab coat on.  Now, I just needed some gloves to hide any fingerprints I might leave behind.

‹This is very risky,› Aximili said needlessly as I wetted my hair to make it less fly-away and he walked around the tiled area, being careful not to slip.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, turning my head to see if I looked better, having to look over the glasses.  “Is there anything interesting posted?”  Sometimes work places, like at my old job, procliaimed bits of news in locations everyone should be able to read.  The problem was no one ever read them, a fact management often missed.

‹According to this, they are planning to go to The Gardens.  If they are interested, they must sign up with Captain Hard Ass Torrelli.  I do not think Hard Ass is his real name, though,› Aximili reported as he read the bulletin board.  ‹Also, someone is selling a grill and another, a litter of kittens.  And that people are not washing their hands and that the refrigerator is cleaned at twenty-three hundred hours on Fridays and all unlabeled food will be removed from it.›

“That’s nice.”  My hair seemed professional, finally, and I fixed the collar and cuffs of the lab coat and shirt.  “Morph back to the bat.”

He did so, and I carefully scooped him up and placed him in my pocket.  Then I took a deep breath, pulled the sleeve of the coat down, and opened the door.  I made sure to walk with a firm step, like I belonged. 

It was a typical building, and I wasn’t sure what to look for.  But I followed the hallway, peaking into any door that I could.  Soon, I reached the reason for the secret, or at least where I could see it through the glass.

My jaw dropped and I hit my forehead as all my grand plans for having a ship evaporated. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

‹What is it?› Aximili asked, crawling in my pocket, as he was trying to stick his head out and see for himself.

Millions of human dollars, countless security, and everything … for _what_?  The _humiliation!_   I risked my life, wasted my time to learn _this_ secret? 

‹Elfangor, what is it?›

I tried to keep my voice steady.  “It’s an Andalite Dome ship’s modular waste disposal system.”

Aximili was quiet, possibly as well in shock.  ‹What?›

“Please do not make me repeat myself.”

‹Are you sure?›

“Aximili, I am staring right at it.  It is an old model, but I am sure.”  In order to get away from such humiliation, I took my eyes away from the obect and looked around the room; there were computers.  I sat down at a chair and quickly started to break into the data files about this embarrassment.  I made sure to use the very tips of my fingers. 

The only saving grace was that the humans had, as of yet, managed to open it.  Though, considering the age, it was probably mere dirt, perhaps even clay.  Not that such information was better.  DNA anaylsis and the general shape would eventually tell what it was.  Well, at least with this module the humans weren’t going to learn space flight.

“We’re leaving,” I sighed. “And we’re stopping for something to eat after this.”

I left the office and quickly paced back to a side office, one that had windows, or at least one.  The window was small and protected with wire and glass, but my tail could care of it.  After locking the door and stripping, placing Aximili on the desk, I started to demorph. ‹Do we have to tell the humans?› Aximili asked after I had finished.     

I made a face as I shattered the glass and wires.  ‹Unfortunately.  I think they’ll be disappointed.  Here, I will join you momentarily,› I said, helping Aximili out the window even as I morphed back to my bat form.  The sounds of the glass breaking had drawn attention, but I ignored it, managing to climb the cracks in the walls, get high enough, and then take to the air.  I escaped by flying over the heads of the surrounding soldiers.

Flying back to my car, I wasn’t sure what was worse – discovering that this great Earth secret was an Andalite lavatory or that it wasn’t a ship we could use. 

It was a tough call.

 ****

The children were, in turns, amused, shocked, and disappointed at our findings.  The only worthwhile venture for this was the Cassie theorized that _if_ the Yeerks didn’t figure out what it was – very unlikely, because only Visser Three would be able to recognize what the humans were guarding – they would try to infest some of the humans by their back-up plan somewhere off the base.  Aximili remembered the flyer about signing up with Captain Hard Ass Torrelli for the trip to the Gardens.

The event was not truly worth mentioning.  For the dimmest of moments I considered telling Visser Three what he was so desperate to discover, but I quickly tossed it aside.  He needed a hobby, and he needed the disappoint he would feel when he discovered the truth.  That raised my spirits, at least.

I visited Loren afterwards, completely spent and tired.  She could sense it, if only because I was draped over the couch in such a manner that very well projected exhaustion.

“Rough day?”

It couldn’t honestly be called that, and I told her so.  “It is merely … merely life,” I said, unable to find a proper word to describe what made me so demonstratively depressive.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning to face my general direction.

“Have you ever heard of Zone 91?” I asked.

Loren, if she was surprised at what she probably considered a change in topic, did not pause in her answer.  “Sure, who hasn’t?”

I momentarily wondered if her admission put her in the same category as Marco, then quickly tossed it aside.  She was older and more experienced.  “I discovered that the space ship they are guarding and studying, it is really a portable toilet.”

She laughed and leaned her head against her hand.  “How did you figure that out?”

“I broke in, of course.”

“No, that is was a toilet.”

Amused that she didn’t call me out on breaking in, only that I said it was a toilet, I was over-dramatic in my reply.  “Because it just makes sense that a secret government facility would spend millions of dollars analyzing an alien toilet.”

“You are such a dweeb,” she chuckled, shaking her head. 

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are.  But don’t worry.”  She leaned forward and patted my arm with unerring accuracy given her handicap.  “You still have Area 51.  Everyone knows that’s where the really important space ships are kept.”

I groaned.  “That’s not funny.”  I could not bear the thought if humans were studying another Andalite toilet, looking for galactic answers in, pardon the human expression, our shit.

“Yes, it is.  One, because _you_ actually _believe_ this stuff.  I mean, you, Alan?” she said in a light, teasing tone.  “And two, because you think it’s a toilet.”

“It might be true,” I protested, though I was starting to smile.

“Yes, it might be,” she agreed in a manner that said it might also be very possible for swine to fly.  “It might be a toilet.  But it’s probably not.”

“Then what do you think it is?”

Loren grinned.  “What else but a garbage disposal?”

“A toilet is worse,” I said.

She shrugged.  “So says you.  However, you never know what aliens throw away.  For all you know, my garbage disposal could have radioactive glowing things.  Glowing poop, even.  Your theory is just smelly.  Mine at least as the possibility of mutating and terrorizing cities.”

I looked at her, vastly amused.  “You are a strange human being, Loren.”

“You started it.  Toilets,” she scoffed.  “You are such a guy.  Toilet humor.  I expected better than that from you.”

“I cannot live up to all of your expectations.”

“No,” Loren allowed.  “But you could at least not bring the rest of them down when you do mess up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

****


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything progesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 15

 “Did you enjoy the mall?” I asked conversationally from the table when the children filed inside.  Sick to death of reading the news, connecting dots to Yeerk activities, and going over theories, the children were a welcome relief.  I would even accept their report on the new Mega Mall that was so far across town it was practically in the next.  It very likely connected the two.

The children all stopped and looked at each other, as if startled by my innocent question, but then Marco blurted out, “Erek was there.”

“Was he?” I was curious.  If the Chee needed to report something to us, Erek would most certainly call me.  But by the way the children were acting, Erek told them something terrible and they were worried about my reaction.

“Visser One is back on Earth,” Jake said grimly.  I caught his glance to his friend, and I saw Marco’s fists white-knuckled.  I made sure my face was not in any sort of concern for Marco.  Aside from Jake, my brother, and myself, Marco did not seem to be in any hurry to tell the others about his secret, and I would not go against his wishes.  After a pause, Jake continued.  “Erek said she’s overseeing some secret project at Royan Island.  In the water or something.”

“Does he know anything else?”  And _why_ hadn’t he called me and told me this information?  As much as I enjoyed this game of Telephone, I would prefer to hear news actually over the telephone.

“Erek said there are new Controllers.  Possibly Leerans,” my brother added, worried.

My eyes widened.  “Leerans?”

“Ax already told us about them on the way here, but he didn’t know how close they had to be.  Do you know?” Cassie asked.

I stood up and paced.  “It depends on the Leeran.  Some are very sensitive, while others are not.  I think, in general, most of the time we are safe if we say five feet away.  And we are not projecting.”

“Projecting?” Tobias repeated.

“In higher emotional states,” I explained.  “They’ll be more likely to pick it up.”

“It doesn’t even matter.  These guys are psychic and we get too close, it’s game over,” Rachel said. 

Ah, Rachel, always one to state the obvious.  “I guess we’ll have to check out this island.  Not all of us will have to attend—”

“I’m going!” Marco snapped, anger on his face and obviously insulted.

I smiled, to act as if it wasn’t anything odd.  “If you like.”  Recalling the geography of the area, I decided on a plan. “We can go for a swim tomorrow, since it’s Saturday, just to see if we can get a scope of the land, or water, as the case may be.  It is only about twenty miles away.  Marco, you don’t have a dolphin, so you should go to the Gardens and acquire one.”

“You’ll like it.  It’s fun,” Cassie said.

“Until a shark bites you in half,” Tobias muttered.

“We shall endeavor to avoid sharks,” I promised.  “The Gardens is open until six, so I can drive you to there to acquire the morph.”  This way, we could talk in private.

“So long as you pay.”

“Don’t I always?  The rest of you, we shall leave at nine in the morning.  Either stay the night or arrive here.  If you stay, there’s money for take-out in the jar.  Come along, Marco.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” he mockingly saluted.

I took the Mustang, because I knew Marco would appreciate it.   We had driven three miles before Marco finally opened his mouth.  “I can do this, Elfangor.”

“I know you can.”  I had no such knowledge.

“Erek already gave me the whole deal that it’s not really my mom and I have to do what I can and she’s a vicious Yeerk who will kill us all.”

“Yes, she is.”

We were quiet again.

“I can do this, Elfangor,” he repeated.

“At this moment, yes, you can.  But … when push comes to shove, will you be able to?” I replied.  “I … I know what it’s like to face enemies that were once your friends.  Not as close as your relationship with your mother, of course, but I know the hesitation in firing the Shredder or swinging your tail before they can attack.”

“Another Andalite?” Marco said, surprised.

 _Of a fashion_ , I thought in reference to two.  “We’ve always had our spies.  Some get taken.  Some meet us before we find out.”

“But you did it.”

I took a deep breath.  “Yes.  Yes, I did.”  After taking a deep breath, as if to wash away the memories, I said, “You should inform the others.  Because if you don’t,” I continued, before he could interrupt, “in the heat of battle, you’ll get distracted when you see one of them is doing what you either want or don’t want.  We can’t afford distractions in this line of work.”

“She’s a Controller.  It shouldn’t matter.  I don’t want the others risking their lives because they won’t kill her because she’s my mom,” he said bitterly.

“Rest assured, that knowledge will not stay my tail.”

Marco jerked and looked at me with a face of betrayal.

“Neither would it save Tom,” I added.

He looked out the window.  “And it shouldn’t,” Marco said.

“No.  No, it shouldn’t.  Tell them, Marco.  If you cannot trust your fellow warriors with things that make your life, how can you trust them with your life?”

“You’re not going to say, tell them or I will?”

“No.  That is not my task.  It is your choice.”

“Great.  Thanks.”

I almost think he would have preferred if I did tell the others.  We made the trip to the Gardens in silence, and then I drove him home.  He wanted to spend time with his father, and I understood.

 ****

“So much for not meeting sharks,” Tobias grumbled at the couch.

“You cannot expect me to always be correct,” I consoled as I looked up research on the pack-like hammerhead sharks, carefully making notes.  Those sharks were too smart.  While apparently hammerhead sharks could form large schools such as what attacked us, it was too coordinated.  “If it is any consolation, I do not care for sharks either.  Ever since I saw the movie _Jaws_.”

Tobias gave a small laugh.  “Yeah, well, I hate water.”

I stopped and turned.  “You do?  You did not act worried previously.”

“I didn’t nearly get eaten before that.”  He shrugged.  “And I fell into a pool when I was younger.  It was a good thing Professor Powers was around.  She used to let me eat the raspberries in her garden.”  He seemed lost in the memory, a pleasant one.

For a moment I wanted to ask what had happened, who was this Professor Powers, but I didn’t.  Couldn’t.  It wasn’t my place, no matter how much it should be.  “I’m sorry for your accident.  It must have been very terrible.”

Tobias shrugged again, not interested in dwelling in the past.  “Learn anything about the sharks?  Were they Controllers?”

“No.”  I looked at my notes.  “The shark’s brain is too primitive for a Yeerk.  And I don’t think it’s possible to train sharks like that.”

“So the Yeerks are controlling them somehow.  With remote controls or something?”

“Possibly.  We’ll have to go back there, once Cassie finds out if there’s a hammerhead anywhere near in captivity.”  I rubbed my nose.  “We have to stop this, otherwise the battle could turn on Leera.  The beings there would be helpless against any creature from Earth’s oceans.”

“Yeah.  We can’t have any of those psychic frogs here.  Do you think the Andalites will beat the Yeerks there?”

I leaned back.  “Honestly, I did not concern myself with Leera.  I know the basic knowledge of the planet, and I do believe the Council believed we actually held a slight advantage.  But battles can turn fast.  Still, if the Yeerks are planning this maneuver, it must not be going very well for them.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes.”

The phone rang and I answered it.  It was Cassie, telling me that the only hammerhead nearby was at a facility called Ocean World.  It would be our next stop.

“Cool.  I always wanted to go to Ocean World.  That or Sea World,” Tobias tried to joke.

 ****

While the trip to Ocean World had been … interesting, the trip back to Royan Island was everything boring, until we got into the facility.  I did not enjoy having Yeerk devices shoved into my brain, not at all, and I very much wanted it out of my head.

But it was an answer to how these sharks were being controlled.  They were being altered to become smarter, advance their brains so Yeerks could possibly infest them.

Given that this was a Yeerk device in our brains, I vetoed the children’s idea for morphing into bugs.  There was no way the Yeerks had managed to create a small enough implant that the morphing technology could work around, especially since it was so new to the body.  It would be too dangerous.

Still in the water, ducked enough that I would be unseen, I thought about our next step.  ‹We have to learn about this facility.  And get these devices out of our heads.  Aximili, Marco, Tobias, try to find a computer station and learn everything you can.  Especially about the devices.›  Who knew if they would carry their function over to our real brains?  ‹But, otherwise make sure to disengage the force field.  We can at least destroy this facility and take care of the devices on our own.›

“We can?” Jake asked.

‹I know enough field surgery.›

“Whoa!  You are not touching my brain,” Marco said.

“Don’t worry.  You don’t even have one,” Rachel countered.

“Or he’d damage what little Marco does have,” Jake added.

“Hey!”

‹You should be in a different morph, Marco.  Trust me.  While you three take care of that, the rest of us, we’ll provide a distraction.›

“Finally,” Rachel stated.

“If we can’t go bug, I guess we could try birds.  Only Andalites look up, after all,” Marco said, hoisting himself out of the water. 

Those three took to the air while the others went into their respective battle forms.  It was a bit of trouble for _me_  to get out of the water – Aximili, younger and lighter and possibly in a shallower end, made it out gracefully – which all of the children were kind enough to at least pretend not to be amused.  I ended up going half human to hoist myself up, because my normal Andalite arms were not strong enough.  After glaring at them while I returned to normal, I started to lead the way.

‹Be very ready to face over-whelming odds, children,› I informed

‹Sounds like fun!›

‹Let’s do it!›

Seeing Marco, Tobias, and Aximili preparing to enter a hall, I indicated to Jake to make our presense known.  The battle was quick and fast.  The Yeerks didn’t expect us to have made it inside, secure in their watch sharks.  However, the truth was this idea was poorly thought out.  We were effectively out-numbered, especially with three of us away.  We were nearly cornered before our cavalry arrived, Aximili warning me about the falling force field.

And then … then Visser Three arrived.  A giant yellow snake, the origin I did not know.  It took him a moment to notice I was present, because Vissers, like all enemies great and small, must first sling insults at each other.

‹Prince Elfangor, what a pleasure,› he practically hummed as he noticed me and slithered closer, almost ignoring Visser One and their dispute.

‹Visser Three.  I suppose you are taking part in what the humans call compensating for something,› I said with lightness I really didn’t feel as he came closer.  I noticed Visser One grinned at my comment, while Visser Three was confused.  But he understood my obvious mockery. 

The Hork-Bajir fighting me went off to battle the others, feeling ill-equipped to add their presence to a fight between the Visser and myself.  While I was relatively confident I could handle this creature, I was not so over-confident as to forget I did not know what nasty surprises it held, or that Visser Three was the one controlling the form.

Before we could start our battle, the computer wished us to have a nice day as gallons of water would rush in and crush us.  I suppose until our death, the day would have been nice.  Visser Three laughed.  ‹Water rushing in, and both of you stuck in those weak bodies.  Is my promotion coming near?›

While Visser One, angry and desperate for survival, ran off, I commented, ‹And now you count your chickens, I see.›

‹Always so fond of the humans, weren’t you, Elfangor?› he sneered as we circled.  ‹You learn their pathetic vernacular.›

‹And learn it right.  Eeny, meeny, miney, moe, Visser Three.  Not moo.›

He dove down, impatient and certain of victory.  I easily darted aside and cut his side with a decent blow.  Not deadly.  I was at the wrong angle to accomplish that.  My blade slid down several inches, and it was like I was filleting a fish.  Green blood pulsed out.

Angered at the pain, he twisted and dove again.  A less-experienced tail fighter might have tripped over the debris on the ground, but I was no novice.  A stalk always a step ahead of where I was going to be, I easily navigated over the building’s fallen structure. Another attack I easily avoided.  The snake form, while large and strong, was slow and sloppy.  Powerful, yes, but slow.  Unless he was toying with me.

Around us, the other little battles were faring well for the children.  Bloodied and weary, they were still alive.  There was an announcement that the countdown had ceased.  Without a word, Aximili rushed to fix that.  Rachel ran after him, and Marco followed.  Another time, I would have felt sorry for him.  It was as I predicted – whatever happened, he had to be there.  But now I couldn’t be distracted with such thoughts.  Fangs descending, I caught the Visser with a broad slap of my tail – a pure cut wouldn’t have stopped his momentum – before twisting and striking out with my back hooves.  A mule kick, that’s what humans would call it.  Whether or not an Andalite kick is equal of a mule, I don’t know, but I do know we have a lot of power in our back legs.  It left Visser Three stunned.  Apparently the creature possessed a glass jaw. 

Perhaps realizing that his form wasn’t good enough against me, and demorphing was too much of a risk, Visser Three retreated back into the ocean.  Another Andalite might have chased him, but I had to watch the children. 

‹You three, get into your water morphs,› I said after I helped take care of the few Hork-Bajir that still fought against them.  ‹It’s time to leave.  Go!›

I was half way to the office where the others were when a surge of water swelled out, knocking me of my hooves.  I could see Marco, Rachel, my brother, Visser Three, and many other beings as they got swept up and swirled around.  I choked for air and started to morph to the shark.  While Andalites can swim and swim well, I could not survive these conditions, and especially not if Visser Three had a form that could navigate water easily.  Before I was finished I exited the destroyed building.  The children were around in levels of sharkness, and they were surrounded by the smart sharks.  The creatures headed right towards them like they were trained.

But then they weren’t smart sharks.  They were dispersing.  However, one the children must not have noticed or been aware, because the attack was wild, erratic until some of the others knocked the truth into him.  I swam to them, keeping a leery glance at the retreating sharks.  It could be just as likely they were taking part in an elaborate trick.

‹Are we all well?› I demanded, then wondered the question of myself.  Something felt strange in my head, like something was melting.

‹The remotes are liquidating,› Aximili informed me.  Perhaps he recognized my mental confusion.

So that would be one less thing to worry about.  ‹Good.›  I kept my tone business-like.  ‹What about the Vissers?›

‹I saw Visser Three swimming away,› Tobias said.  ‹But Visser One is probably trying to figure out how to hold her breath.›

The comment most certainly hurt Marco.  Tobias would have never said it if he knew the truth.  Marco said nothing to it, and without a word I started to lead them back to shore.  If Marco didn’t want the truth known, I couldn’t say it.

We had only swam about a hundred yards when Rachel reported that she heard something.  ‹It’s mechanical.  Like the sound that sub made.  I heard the engines and this sounds just like that.›

While some of the children argued that they heard nothing and Rachel defended her claim, I tried to listen, to see if there was this sound.  As cruel as it was to Marco, I wanted his mother dead.  Or at least the yeerk that controlled her.  With Visser One gone, it was one less dangerous monster to torment Andalites.  But, then again, maybe it was better if she wasn’t.  With her death, there would be a vacuum Visser Three could rush to fill.  Better to have him Three than One.  Safer.

‹Thanks, Xena,› Marco said quietly.

‹For what?› she said flippantly.  ‹Because I can hear?›

At her answer, I knew she at least knew the truth.  With her knowing, so would the rest.  She would tell Cassie.  With the truth out to her, finally Tobias would find out as well.  All of the children would know Marco’s secret.  It would be for the best.  It was best to get secrets like that out in the open, because secrets like that, kept to one’s self, could drive a person mad.

 ****

“Do you suppose I am corrupting my brother’s friends?” I asked Loren.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“You could at least ask how,” I said.  “Have any threes?”

“Go Fish,” she said cheerfully without even brushing her fingers over the edges.  Her memory could be considered outstanding, until one realized she only had three cards.  “And I don’t have to ask how.  If you have to ask, you are.  Simple fact.  Sevens?”

“Go Fish.”  I examined my cards, trying to remember what cards Loren said she didn’t have, along with the likelihood that she had drawn one just now.  “King?”

“Nope.  Three.”

I handed the card over.  “After this game, you should let me teach you poker.”

“You just are upset that I’ve won more games.  Ace?”

“Fish.”

As she took a fresh card, Loren smiled.  “Besides, you’d be at an unfair advantage.  You could see all my little tells, is that what they’re called?  We’d have to play in the dark so it’d be fair,” she continued without waiting for my answer.  “And you’d have to learn Braille.”

“I think I could manage,” I chuckled.

“That’s what everyone says, until they actually try it.  Of course, you could use some failure to knock that ego of yours down,” Loren teased.

“It is already getting a beating.  How about a six?”  She handed the card over, and I knew she didn’t have any of mine remaining.  “King?”

“Still fishing.”  After a pause, she asked, “Two?”

“Go fish.”

“I’m glad you bought deck for me,” she said conversationally.

“As am I.”  Anything that gave her pleasure was worth the trouble of visiting specialty shops.  “We could try checkers, maybe.”

She laughed.  “I think you’d only want to play that because you think you can win.  And you probably could, Mr. Tactics.  And don’t even try chess.”  It wasn’t until after we finished our game – I lost, and the current standing was four in her favor to my two – and I was shuffling that Loren asked, “And why did it suddenly occur to you that you’re corrupting Ax’s friends?”

I shook my head.  “Sometimes I think I let them get away with too much.  When I am not around and they visit for whatever reason, more often then not I find them surrounded with junk food and deliveries and other entertainments bought with money from a jar I keep so Ax can fend for himself if I’m busy.” And sometimes without my brother. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s too lenient.”  I didn’t add that the boys had convinced Aximili to purchase a Nintendo system and several games so he could learn to blend in better.  (I attached their actions to a less-alturistic motive.)  “And I keep finding myself doing their homework instead of merely helping.  They ask questions and I answer without thinking.  I think I practically wrote Marco’s make-up English paper.”

Loren leaned back.  “What I think is happening is they’re learning they can talk advantage of you.  Within reason, I guess.  That’s the problem with people like you.”

“People like me?” I repeated.

“In some things, Alan, you’re a complete ass.  But then you do a full one-eighty and are a complete idiot.”

I glared at her.  “I am not.”

“Thirteen-year-olds are getting you to do their homework, Alan, and you never realize it.  You’re an idiot.”

Given that my actions ultimately created their lack of study time, I felt like I had to help them, keep their grades up so their parents wouldn’t be concerned.  Could I help it if I forgot during my explaining to let them find the end on their own?  “I just get distracted.”

“You’re too smart for your own good.”

“Entirely possible.”

“Modest, too,” she said.  “But as to corrupting them, probably not.  You’re merely teaching them to take advantage of the moronic.  Valuable life lesson, that.”

“Remind me to never ask your opinion on something,” I said as I dealt out the cards.

Picking them up and feeling the numbers before setting them in an order, Loren said, “Seriously, you got to find some happy medium.  Either you’re too lenient or too stern.  Not sure why you do that, but you got to stop.  You probably don’t act that way with Ax, I bet.”

“Of course not,” I protested.  And then I wondered why.  Did I merely hold Aximili to a higher standard than the children, because he was an Andalite?  Was I coddling the humans too much, because I felt guilty for asking so much of them in a battle, trying to atone?  Possibly.

“Then just pretend they’re all your little brother.”

I shook my head.  “I’d rather save that distinction _for_ my brother.”

She tapped her cards on the tabletop.  “Is it hard?”

“What?”

“Raising your brother.”

“What I’m doing is hardly raising him,” I said.  “My brother is very self-sufficient.  They are at his age, you know.”

“But they haven’t left the nest yet.  And they’re pains and you have to make sure they eat balanced meals and clean their rooms and do their homework, and now is when they start getting mouthy.”

I didn’t have to worry about any of those things with Aximili.  I don’t think _any_ Andalite parent has to worry about it.  At least, _I_ did not put _my_ parents through grief, nor my professors, I’m quite sure of _that_.  “Ax isn’t like that at all.  I’ll admit, Rachel and Marco are more apt to be annoying, but the rest of them are very well-behaved and respectful.  I suppose if I merely tell them I didn’t want them to use the money jar as often as they have been, or any of the other little things, they would stop and apologize.”  I have a little laugh.  “I think I’m just at a loss at how to properly take care of them, what is acceptable in relation to their parents.”  Andalite parents – or at least mine and those of my friends – easily supplied things their children’s visiting friends needed to be entertained, because it was always done by the friends’ parents, as well as being no great personal cost.  But, then again, Andalites did not have take-out and CDs and DVDs and Nintendo systems that needed to be supplied, and these Earth things, I learned, were not of a small cost or happening infrequent enough to be ignored.  (While the children did not take them home – indeed, I was getting _quite_ the video and music collection – the merchandise was bought and probably ripped, burned, dubbed, or whatever the terms were.)

“Would you care if their parents did what you do to the kids to Ax?”

“No.  Which might be my problem,” I admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Possibly.  But it’s not like human children come with instruction manuals in care.”

She was amused at my defense.  “As opposed to manuals for other types of children.”

I ignored her.  “Are we going to play?”

“Are you going to lose?” Loren grinned, fanning the cards out and putting them in front of her face as if she could see them. 

“Are those mutually inclusive?”

“If you mean, are they connected, then yes.”

I made a noise.  “If I am modest, then you are full of self-doubt.”

“Yes I am.  And I start.  Got any queens?”

“Only you, Loren.”

She primed and straightened her shoulders as she took her card.  “Next time, you must bow and exalt and make jokes for my amusement.  That’s what jokers do.”

“Or fight Batman.  Three.”

Loren pouted and handed the card over.

“I’m sure you’ll still win,” I consoled as I set the pair aside.

“You can’t compare yourself to Batman.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s really the rich and handsome Bruce Wayne, neither which describes you.”

“I didn’t compare myself to Batman.  You said I was a joker, who, I think, fights Batman, doesn’t he?”

Her nose crinkled.  “I’m not going to hang around with an arch criminal.  That’s make me the side kick, that girl.  I can’t remember her name, but I know there is one.”

“I’ll ask one of Ax’s friends.  They’re bound to know.  Do you have any fours?”

“Go Fish.”

Taking the card, I asked, “Can I be a Prince, if you are to be a queen?”  My tone was sly with my question.

She clucked her tongue and seemed to think about it.  “I guess so.  You seem like an idiot who’d fight dragons to rescue a princess.”

“You wouldn’t want me to rescue you from a dragon?” I inquired.

“Queens do not need to be rescued.”  Her grin was wicked.  “We order, off with their heads!”

There probably was a cultural reference there, but the meaning was clear, as it was for all females – they were dangerous in the right mood.  “Ouch.”

“Yes.  And remember, Queens out-rank Princes.  I can order your head removed if I’m displeased,” she said primly, raising her nose.

“And you’ll be displeased if you lose, won’t you?”

“Yes.  But I won’t have your head removed,” Loren admitted after a pause.

“Thank you.”

Continuing as if I hadn’t spoken, Loren stated, “After all, there’s no reason to remove something you’re not even using in the first place.  Got any kings?”

“Go Fish, my Queen.”

She picked her card, then laughed and twisted the card to show me the face.  “I got my king. Thanks for the advice, Prince Alan,” she smiled as she set the pair aside.

“A Prince’s duty is to serve,” I intoned.

“Is it?  So serve me a glass of water.”

I rolled my eyes, but stood up and bowed from the waist before getting the glass.  “ _Of course_ , my Queen.”

Laughing, Loren proclaimed that I still had to exalt.  “And leave nothing out,” she said as I gave her the glass.

“When I have something to exalt, I won’t.”  I paused.  “And how did you know I bowed?”

Sipping the water and grinning, she said, “You’re an ass.  I knew you would.”

“I didn’t realize I was such an easy read,” I said, slightly amazed and a little embarrassed at my actions.  It was even worse to be caught by Loren, who could not witness my action but realized my character was that of an impertinent child’s.

“You’re not,” Loren consoled.  “But I’m a very avid reader.”

I picked up my cards.  “I’ll have to test to see how avid.”

“I love tests,” she grinned.

I laughed, the sound escaping me without my intervention.  “I just hope you love the subject.”

“I think I do.”

“I hope you do.  Got any fives?”

“Go Fish.”

 ****

I had turned my back and left my cart for _one second_ to get some dry cereal, and then this ill-mannered human was tossing things out of my cart to get at the oatmeal box.

“What are you doing?!” I demanded, rushing back to pull my cart away.

“I want the oatmeal!  Give me the oatmeal!”

“I think you have enough!” I snapped, trying to block the human.  His cart was filled with the boxes.  Mostly it seemed to be the boxes colored to mean maple and ginger, but there were a few other flavors, possible put in by accident.  “I had it first.”

“Give it to me!” he wailed.  “I _need_ it!”

While the maple and ginger flavored instant oatmeal was tasty, I was in no way dedicated to the taste.  It was a simple rotation of flavors and now it was this flavor’s turn.  However, it was mine.  “Sir, you have enough.”

The human had a desperate look on his face.  Perhaps that should have been my warning because suddenly he pushed me to the ground, rummaged through my cart, and then ran away, his cart squeaking.  Glaring after him, I picked myself up, brushing the dirt off.   My elbow hurt from where I had landed.

“Stupid human,” I muttered as I retrieved my items.  The carton of eggs was destroyed beyond repair, and the bag of flour had a small leak.  “Stupid, crazy human.  Bad as Aximili.”

Casting a look at the nearly empty shelf of oatmeal, I chose a blueberry flavored box and continued on my way, though I did tell an attendant about the mess in aisle eight.  The young human had sighed. 

“The oatmeal aisle?” she asked, annoyed.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to _kill_ that guy.  He comes in here three times a week and takes all of that gross flavor. We have to deal with his messes _and_ other customers who are ticked off that we don’t have their flavor in stock.”

Since this was a mutual airing of grievances about this human, I said, “He pushed me to the ground and stole my box from my cart.”

“Are you all right?” After saying I was fine, the girl stated, “That’s it.  I’m telling the manager and seeing if we can get him disbarred or something.  The last thing we need is him pushing some old grandma and breaking her hip, and I don’t want him mugging me.  We’ll take care of it, Sir.”

I nodded, though I did doubt at her promise.  It would probably come to naught, despite the dangers.  After bidding her a nice day, then smiling as she left swearing louder than she intended about crazy customers, I continued my shopping. There was little more to comment on that particular venture until I got to the check-out.  After handing over the signed check, the teller read my name.

“Did you find everything you needed, Mr. Fangor?”

“Yes, thank you.”  I waited patiently for my change and unwrapped a Snickers bar. 

“Are you part of _The Sharing_?”

Curious, I asked, “No, why?”

“We’re offering discounts for members.  You should think about joining.”

I would need a more compelling reason to join a Yeerk front than to save a few dollars each week.  “Perhaps,” I commented.

“They do a lot of fun things.  I’m glad I joined.”

Now I had to keep myself neutral.  “I’m sure you are.  I’ll keep your comments in mind … Joe,” I said, looking at his nametag.

“I hope you do!  Mention my name and they’ll treat you like royalty,” he grinned and gave me my change.  “Have a nice day!”

“You, too.”

Departing the store as fast as I could and yet remain discreet, I wondered at that encounter.  Did they suspect?

No.  No, if they suspected, they wouldn’t try to entice me to join.  I would have been taken, I decided as I moved the bags into the trunk of the Mustang.  So right now, they were curious, analyizing me again. But why?  My income had been fixed, I did not stand out in any way that I could recognize.  Did they think there was a possible use for me, or at least my human identity, in one of their upcoming plans?

I tried to think about what Alan Fangor would be useful for.  A degree in quantum physics, a strong computer background, moderately wealthy … there was no doubt that (if I had been a real human) I could have had my uses, but nothing stood out.  I wasn’t active in any of those areas.  There were no research papers written or co-written by Alan Fangor, no computer company I had power in or secrets to.  (While _Forlay_ hinted at a good computer company, there was no evidence of it being anything more than a little company.) 

Could they suspect I was what I was, an Andalite?

No.  No.  If they even thought about me being an Andalite, they wouldn’t risk it.  I would have been taken.  And there was no reason not to think I wasn’t a normal human.  I had a _very_ good human history.  Unlike other possible newcomers, it did not appear as if I had just appeared on the face of the planet.  I had everything regular humans had – credit history, degrees, tax records, a social security number, certificates of life.  Sure, perhaps I was a little unorthodox, but nothing screamed _Andalite_. 

Nothing did.  Of _that_ I was certain.

Still, now my guard was up.  It was time to start paying attention.  Not that I had ever stopped, because, after all, the world depended on me continuing to pay attention.

 ****

I was surprised when Jake was at my door with his brother.  Jake obviously looked displeased, but Tom greeted me enthusiastically.

“So you’re the man stealing our Jake away?”

I forced a smiled, bemused, and led them in.  The rest of the children and Aximili stared at Tom as well.  “Pardon?”

“This is my brother, Tom, Mr. Fangor,” Jake said quickly.  “He offered to give me a ride over when I said I was coming to see Alexander.”

“That’s all right.  You’re just in time.  I was about to order pizza.”  A lie.  We were supposed to be discussing Yeerk activities.  “What would you like on yours?”

Jake quickly held back his surprise at my idea of pizza.  “Supreme.”

“Pineapple and taco,” Marco called out, sitting with a game control and catching on just as quickly.  “By time you got here, I thought we were all going to die of starvation.”

I calmly took the rest of their desires and then invited Tom to stay.  I had to.  It was expected.  And of course Tom agreed.  For the food, of course.  I smiled.  “You may call your parents after I place the order.”

So, instead of discussing the Yeerk invasion, I spent an obscene amount for eight pizzas – all large, of various toppings – in response to one. Instead of determining how to destroy the Yeerks, I fed one.  The irony was not lost on me.

When Tom finished his call, we were back in the living room.  Cassie and Tobias were working on homework, Rachel was sitting at the computer going through web pages, Marco and Jake were playing the video game, and Aximili was sitting, merely watching.

Utterly innocent.  And utterly suspicious. 

“Pizza will be here in about a half an hour,” I said, leaning against the wall.  Tom sat next to my brother. 

“Dude, we should have ordered a half an hour ago, then,” Marco grumbled.

Jake groused, “I would have been here sooner except someone drives like an old lady.”

“You got here faster than if you would have rode your bike, squirt,” Tom snapped back with a grin.  “And you had to be here in such a hurry.”

“For food.  You know what Mom’s serving today?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

I interjected.  “Lest you think delivery in a staple here, I do cook proper meals.  However, cooking for eight is outside my capabilities on such short notice.”

“You cook?”

I shook my head with amusement.  “I’ll be in the kitchen.  And, children, I expect some homework to be completed.  The internet is perfectly capable of looking up the War of 1812 as easily as the Fall Fashions, Rachel.”

Rachel smirked.  “But is it as educational?”

“There are drinks in the frig, if you’re thirsty,” I said to Tom.  “Help yourself.”

He thanked me.

I was surprised that he chose to not follow me after a few minutes.  In the kitchen, I shook my head with the ill luck of it all, but would not worry or give way to anger just yet.  There were just suspicions, and one night’s additional ignorance will not change it. 

To appear normal, I opened the many envelopes that arrived.  The bills I compared to the bank statements and made sure they were all paid, or could all be paid.  I monitored the increase in the accounts.  I had lessened my “income” to something a reasonable person may have to survive on in case someone in the bank was monitoring, but I still had a very tidy egg. 

A half an hour passed, and there was a knock on the door.  “Pizza’s here!  We need money!”

I stood care of the paperwork before going to the door with a stack of plates and napkins.  The children were already unloading the delivery boy of the food and searching for their orders.  I paid and tipped him.

“What’s this?” Marco demanded, wrinkling his nose.

“Pineapple and taco,” I said, “what you asked for.”

Marco sputtered and everyone laughed.  In the end, Aximili took that pizza – eagerly – and Marco took a thick-crust pepperoni, possibly mine.  However, with all of the boxes spread open and everyone took from another’s.  Everyone also ran to the kitchen to get something to drink, all sugary.  I took a seat on the couch next to Aximili and said, amused and with kindness, to him, ‹Eat slower, Aximili.  Human stomachs have limits.›  His pizza was already half gone.

‹Yes, Elfangor, I will try.  But it is very good!›

I ordered the game off, and Marco and Jake complained.  I remained firm.  They could turn it on after they finished eating.  It was something I thought a parental figure would insist upon.

Everyone ate in silence for a few minutes.  Jake asked Cassie if she had figured out a question they had in class, and the conversation mutated into a general of how terrible their new teachers were.

“Bet hearing us go at it, you’re happy you’re home-schooled, huh, Ax?” Tom asked.

Aximili paused in mid-chew. Then shrugged.  I had told him that shrugging was apparently an adequate answer for any question given to a teenager.  And I was right.

“And you have nothing negative to say at your present professors, Tom?” I asked.

He grinned.  “Nothing yet.  And were any of your teachers monsters?”

“You know, back in the ancient history when you went to school?” Marco added.

“They were what I expected,” I said diplomatically.  “Although several of my college professors were a bit of an eye-opener.  One of them was a weed-smoking hippie who taught logic, if it could be called that.”  One of my first classes.  It had given me a very dim impression of the logical abilities of humans, something most humans had never recovered from.

Cassie asked, “Weed-smoking?”

“He was a decade behind.”  I smiled faintly, chewing.

“You went to college in the states or in Canada?” Tom asked.

I swallowed and took a drink of my Dr. Pepper.  “States.  Here, actually.  I enjoyed it.  Professor Hopper, the physics professor, was very entertaining, in my opinion.  Any plans where you’ll be applying?”

“Probably here, as well.  Mom would die if I left the area.”

“Only until you lost sight of us.  Then we’d have a huge party and change your room into a game room,” Jake said.

Tom ignored him.  “Besides, I’d hate to leave _The Sharing_ behind.”

“The cult thing, right?” I asked innocently, and Rachel choked on her Sprite. The others had similar reactions.

Everyone made sure she was all right before Tom turned back to me.  “It’s not a cult, Mr. Fangor,” he laughed.

I shrugged, getting another piece of pizza.  “I reserve my opinion.”

“We’re not a cult,” he repeated, now slightly frowning.  “ _The Sharing_ is a fun family-oriented group.  We have gatherings, host concerts, have counseling, assist politicians, clean the environment, and have fun.”

“You know,” I said acerbically, standing, “I think you forgot, _dealing with those pesky aliens and selling cookies door-to-door_.  Anyone want another drink while I’m up?”

Everyone, especially the children, were staring at me.  Even Tom was taking a moment to sink in.  I returned, opening the can.

“We don’t deal with aliens,” Tom said with a smile.  “Or sell cookies.”

“Are you sure?  It would make you well-rounded.  Forgive me, but if I hear one more person sprouting prose about this organization, I might have to start a rumor that you’re feeding everyone illegal drugs.  Which you very well might be doing.”  I smiled kindly.

“We are very popular.”

“Notice he didn’t say anything about the drugs,” Marco stage-whispered.

Tom scowled at him.  “And we don’t deal in drugs.  And it just goes to show that since everyone recommends us, that we are good.”

“Look, I’m not saying that, in some respects, _The Sharing_ is out to destroy the world,” I said.  “It does some good, I’ll grant you that.  However, it seems to me that its members basically hound others to join.  Those joining only give in out of sheer desperation for the comments to stop.”  I gave a slightly meaningful look to the children.  This is what I wanted to say to them, in part.

“What do you mean?” Cassie asked.

“Exhibit one.  I go shopping at the store, the one I frequent.  I have a very good chance that the cashier shall say something.  I might meet someone I know slightly, and again something is said.  Exhibit two.  I go to the mall and I swear I’m being stalked by pamphlet-wielding zealots. Exhibit three.  I go to the local Starbucks, get a cup, the cashier says something.  Four.  I come home and work out in the yard.  My neighbors pass and visit, telling about their wonderful time at the last meeting and that I should join in the fun.  And five, you yourself acting as the poster child, Tom.”  I shook my head.  “A club may be popular, but this, in my opinion, is fanatical.  I’m waiting for the punch laced with cyanide.”

Tom stared at me, lips pursed.  “I’m sure some people are just a little over-zealous.  _The Sharing_ has changed many lives.”

“No argument.  It has certainly changed mine, and I’m not even in it.  And I plan to remain so.  So, if you would be so kind, tell your fellow compatriots to stop hounding me, Mr. Berenson.  My patience is wearing thin,” I finished quietly, meeting his gaze.

“I’ll speak with someone, but you can’t think everyone is just going to stop talking about _The Sharing_.  And you really don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Isn’t ignorance the best bliss?”

Tom frowned.  “Indeed.  Even still, you should at least one gathering before you call us a cult.”

I took a deep drink of my Dr. Pepper.  “I don’t have to go into a black hole to know it’ll crush me to the size of an atom, Tom.  I don’t have to jump out of an aircraft to know that eventually I will hit the ground.  The signs are all there.  And I’m pretty sure joining _The Sharing_ would be just as hazardous to my health.”

Tom was wise to stop the conversation and he soon took Jake home.

‹Was that wise, Elfangor?› Aximili asked me, chewing slowly.

“You were pretty deliberate with some of those digs,” Rachel added.

“But it didn’t seem like he was serious, at least,” Tobias pointed out.

Marco asked, “How long have they been after you?”

“Since I’ve gotten the house, though it has only gotten worse lately,” I said curtly.  “I doubt they suspect anything.  This is too subtle, if we should call this subtle, for Yeerks.  If they suspected the truth, I would have been taken, arrested on a false charge, and infested before I could have gotten my wits.  No, they must be curious about me, my profession and income.  My area of expertise.  It makes me wonder why, why now.”

“So what are we going to do?” Tobias asked.

“I want you all to talk to Erek to see if the Chee have any idea about the interest.”  I chose to limit my contact with the Chee.  I remembered living next door to the King family, a family with three small dogs.  They had a boy, older than the children, dear Anthony.  So far the existence of my prior life on Earth was covered expertly, but I didn’t wish to chance it, in case something would change that.  And it hurt a bit to think Anthony King didn’t remember me.  I used to pay him to mow the yard.  Quite handsomely, in fact, until Loren stepped in.  “Otherwise, there is nothing to do, at least without arousing suspicions.  However, if it does not let up, Alan Fangor and his brother shall disappear for a few months.  An old friend shall require our presence very, very far away.”

Aximili looked incredibly pleased with the prospect, until he realized it probably meant no more human food on a regular basis.  While he didn’t like me staying in the house, where I was, in his opinion, _defenseless_ , he did enjoy leftovers.  I was not pleased.  As the children started talking, I could only think that I would not be able to meet with Loren, that I would be forced to leave her alone.  Of course I could still watch her, but I would not be allowed to visit, to be Alan Fangor, to be with her.  It made my heart hurt.

Suddenly I became aware of the quiet.  The children were looking at me curiously. 

“Elfangor?” Cassie said.  “What do you think?”

I didn’t even know the question.  Still, I looked out the window.  “We do what we have to.  No matter what the cost.”

No matter what.

I knew I was lying to them.  To myself.

 ****

I warned Loren about the possibility of my leaving.  I, in good conscious, had to.

She was sympathetic to my “friend.”  “You really think her father won’t make it through this time?”

“I don’t know.  However … I thought I should tell you I might be gone for a while if he does pass.  Matilda, she’s a good sort, but … well, she’s dancing on the edge since her husband Paul died in the accident.”

“Are you good friends?”  She toyed with her cup.

I smiled.  “I’ve known her family for years.  Our fathers were college buddies.  I’m going to his funeral in any case, but I know Matilda.  She’ll need my help.”

“You’re a good man, Alan.”

“Thank you.”  I paused.  “I’ll call, if you’d like.”

She smiled.  “I’d like that.”

“So would I.  In the meantime, would you care to take I moonlight stroll with me?  I’m sure Champ will be delighted to chaperon me in your presence.  Right, boy?”  Champ grinned and waved his tail.

Loren laughed.  “Shouldn’t he be chaperoning me?”

I took her hand.  “You only have to chaperon the one susceptible to the other’s charms, Loren.  The irresponsible one, the one without honor.”

“Alan, you’re anything but irresponsible and without honor,” she said as she stood and leaned against my arm.    “And as to susceptible to my charms … I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”

“Don’t be so sure,” I murmured.  “Come along, Champ, time for a walk.”

The dog barked and bounded to the door.  Loren held onto my arm and I led all of us out into the night.  It was warm and quiet.  Not precisely safe, but I felt secure in Loren’s safety with Champ and me present.  Champ stayed at her side, as he was trained.

We were quiet for some time.

“It feels like nice night,” Loren said quietly.

“It is.  The sky is almost clear and the stars are faintly overcoming the street lamps.  The moon is less than a quarter full, waning.”

“I wish I could see it,” she said.

So did I, but I didn’t say that.  “Someone’s having pizza, I think.”

“Yes.”

Again we were silent.  I didn’t need conversation.  I had everything I needed right then, for that moment.  To distract myself, I looked around to see if there was any sign of trouble, if I was being followed. 

“What is your favorite color, Alan?”

The question caught me by surprise.  “I don’t suppose I really know.  Greens, usually.  And there’s a shade of light blue I’m partial to.”  Loren’s eyes.  And I liked her blond hair.  I liked Rachel’s as well, and I had a feeling, if I had been born human, I would have preferred blonds.  It was like sunshine you could hold. It was possible it made me a gentleman, as well, if I understood the Earth movie title correctly.  “Why?”

“I think I remember a color of blue I liked.  Just a flash, really.  It makes me feel safe.  You feel blue.”

I gaped at her.  Did she remember part of me, even a smallest bit?  The true me?  “Thank you.”

We were quiet for a few steps.  “Do you believe in aliens?  With all the joking about Zone 91 and Area 51, do you really?”

“Yes.  I am one.”  I paused.  “I come from Canada.”

She pushed me gently and scolded, “Alan!  I’m serious.”

So was I, except for the Canada part.  “Of course I do.  I grew up on _Star Trek_.”  Or at least grew up as a human hearing about it and watching the videos of episodes and earlier movies

“Do you think they really look like that?”

“No.  No.  That’s what aliens look like when there’s a budget.  Evolution doesn’t have such a thing.”

She nodded absently, raising her head as if she could see the stars.  “We were close, before, weren’t we, Alan?”

I had to be careful.  “We were close friends, yes.”

“Were we more than friends?”

“We lived together for some time,” I said slowly.

Her voice turned sharp.  “What we were, Alan?  Whenever you talk about then, you start to say something, and then you stop.  You’re hiding things from me, things I have a right to know.”

She was right.  But I couldn’t tell her the truth.  Just parts.  “We were … together, for some time,” I said, staring straight ahead.

“Lovers?”

“Yes,” I whispered.  I couldn’t have lied if I wanted to.  And, really, I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to deny that piece of my past, when my life was peaceful and happy.

“Why did you leave?” she asked quietly, pleading.

There was a lump in my throat.  “I had to.  For both of us, I had to.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.  From me.”

“You … hurt me?”

I physically recoiled away from her, left her stranded several feet away from me.  “God, no, Loren.  Never. Never.  How could you think that I … I …”  I couldn’t continue, too hurt.

Loren stepped forward and gripped my arm, felt for my hands.  “Then why?”

“I had to go back.  Please, understand, my place wasn’t with you then.  It couldn’t be.”

Her voice quavered.  “And now?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling wretched.  “I don’t know if I can stay.  I have things to do, things that could take me away.”

“Your brother?”

Yes, I had to agree, closing my eyes, Aximili was one of them, if only because he would remind me of my duty, who I really was.  Not who I pretended to be.  It was a bitter truth. “Yes.”

I felt her fingers on my cheek.  “And you said you weren’t responsible, honorable.”

“If I was, I would never have allowed myself to meet you in the store,” I said softly.  “I shouldn’t have.”

Loren smiled.  “I’m glad you did.  Even though I certainly didn’t look like how you last saw me.”

“You’re still beautiful,” I murmured.

Her smile twitched, but she kept stroking my cheek.  “Liar.”

“No.  You’re so strong, defiant …” I couldn’t raise my voice past the softest whisper, my world centering on her fingers stroking my cheek, the association of kissing, Andalite fashion.  Yes, the cheeks of a human are not as sensitive as Andalite, but some things are more mental than physical.  Stroking my cheeks, then and now, made me melt and tremble, to me was closer to intimacy than humans would have thought.

Her fingers moved across my face.  “I don’t even know what you look like.”

I relished her touch.  “Just a regular guy.  Brown hair, green eyes.  Pale.  Ugly nose.”  My mouth was dry.

“It’s not ugly,” she countered, feeling the organ, tracing it.  She was so close … her hands, fingers ghosting over my face, kissing me … but of course she wasn’t. “There’s a little bump right here.  Strong chin, slight dimple.  Shaved, smooth cheeks.  Laugh lines.  Thick eyebrows.  Ears present.  Soft, smooth hair, slightly curly.”

My hands had moved to her hips, then waist.  Inching their way up as she continued.  I felt like I was dying, breathing deeply, almost gasping.

“Tall.  Broad shoulders.  Strong.  You use a strange cologne.  I can’t recognize it.”  It must be my natural scent, my Andalite one.  But of course, I wasn’t thinking clearly.  So close … my fingers were in her hair and suddenly I was humanly kissing her like I had wanted to all of these months, these long, lonely years.  Longing and passion and desperation mixed in with complete clumsiness until the memories returned, until I remembered how to not bump noses or teeth, how to hold and press, how my Loren liked it.

This was where I belonged.  Why had I left?  Why?

Time all but stopped for me.  Loren was kissing me back, following me or I was following her, I don’t know which.  I didn’t care.  Finally, though, we parted, breathing heavily.  My lips were tingling, body trembling.  The rest of me wanted her, she was so close she must have felt me, the human evidence of my desire.  Not the first I had such in her presence, but the first time she would be aware of it.  But she wasn’t pulling away.  She wasn’t … I kissed her again, harder, but not as long, and held her close, gasping, breathing in the sunshine that was her.  She buried her face in my neck, then kissed it.  I moaned and could see Champ watching us curiously, his tail wagging.

“You are a very bad chaperon, Champ.”

Loren countered.  “He’s a good boy.  Take me home.”  Her voice held promise and I trembled.

I couldn’t have resisted even if I wanted to.  And I didn’t.  Once inside, we were kissing again, and I was feeling Loren, her warm skin.  Her hands burned me.  We were in her bed and beyond all thought.  Kissing her, memorizing her body as her hands felt my body that she couldn’t see, as clothing was removed.  Pressing her into the mattress, letting instinct overtake reason.

And I was home.  Beyond the pleasure, the satisfaction, the bliss of release, my Loren was clutching me, whispering my name.  My real name.  I could hear it, I _could_.  She knew me.  Here.  Here, she did, as my name fell from her lips unconsciously with moans and cries and pleas, and I begged and worshiped and loved her as I had only done in my dreams, my memories.

Once sated, I held her close.  I must have been crying. 

“Stay.  Stay the night,” she pleaded, kissing me.

I shook my head, crying into her hair.  “I can’t.  I can’t.”  I couldn’t.  I had to demorph in less than forty minutes.  Forty short minutes, that if I didn’t move, I could stay like this with my Loren for forever.  Again.  But I couldn’t.  The Yeerks.  The war.  The children.  Aximili.  I couldn’t abandon them.  “Please, don’t ask me again.”  Because if she did, I might have said yes.  “I can’t.”

“Shh, shh,” she murmured, hugging me.  “I understand.”

I was trembling, shuddering, shaking, just like when I had first allowed myself to be a _nothlit_.  When I realized I would never again, or so thought at the time, be an Andalite.  In the same state of undress.  In the same position, in Loren’s arms as she held me.  I held her tighter.

I stayed until I had less than twenty minutes left in morph.  I kissed Loren over and over again. “I love you,” I whispered repeatedly.  “I always have.”

“I know.  Go.”

I ran, half dressed to the van, drove away with bleary vision.  Found a tunnel and parked in the shadows.  Crawled in the back and demorphed.  Hated it as pale pink was replaced by blue, as my extra limbs appeared.  I morphed back quickly and sat on the floor between the seats sobbing.“What have I done?” I whispered.  “What have I done?”

But I knew.  I had damned myself.

 ****


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks again and Dated Technology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 16

There were some moments when it could be heaven on Earth, and this was fast approaching one of them.  Sprawled on the couch with Loren lying atop of me, lips joined.  This made things worth it, when her hands traced over my skin and clothing.  My own hands tangling in her hair and slipping under the back of her shirt.

And there was the way she was lying, pressing her thigh just right, coyly and teasingly.  Not that I was complaining.  I was doing precisely the opposite of complaining, in fact. 

So distracted I didn’t realize the sound coming from my side, though Loren did and she nipped at my neck.  “Your phone is ringing,” she said as she went up to my ear.

“Let it.”

Loren giggled.  “If you get fired, don’t blame me.”

“I won’t.”  I kissed her hair, willing to continue our activities, but the ringing phone was cooling my ardor.  Yeerk news could have that effect on anyone, and I tried to reach into my pocket without dislodging Loren.  Turning my head, I saw Champ watching us and I grinned.  “Your dog is a voyeur.”

She giggled again.  “Is he?  Do you think we’re a good show?”

“Hush.”  The phone freed, I grappled with it.  “Hello.”

“Hey, Al.”  Jake said.

“Ja-ake,” I got out and then I stifled a groan when Loren did something very, very wicked.  I could feel her smile as she kissed my neck.  “Y-yes?”

While he spoke, I tried to make Loren behave herself – and yet, I really didn’t want her to – and be silent in my scolding.  I’ll admit it, I didn’t _really_ pay attention to Jake – something about how searching for “slugs,” an obvious code for Yeerks, with Yoo-hoo, though how hunting for Yeerks with a drink was going to help us and why I had to learn about this precisely _now_ eluded me – and I got him to hang up rather quickly. 

“Minx,” I scolded and punished her appropriately. 

She was breathless and happy when we parted.  “Do you have to go?” she pouted, a hand rubbing my chest.

I tried to try to remember the details of the call, but it was confusing and really didn’t make much sense to me.  Damn phones and the need to speak in code.  I would have to try to figure out what Jake meant, but it was getting late … and then there was my current situation.  “Not _right_ this moment.  But soon.”

“How soon?” she murmured, a finger tracing my lips. 

“Soon, but not that soon.”

Loren pouted so prettily I had to kiss her.  She sighed and laid her head down on my chest and under my chin.  “If you keep doing that, you won’t be going anywhere _soon_.”

She had a point, except I think she made an error in blaming the actions on me.  She was making this far more difficult than I was.  “I guess we should stop, then.”

“Yeah.”  Though my actions might have negated my agreement, because my hands continued slipping under her shirt and touching her back without conscious thought, desperate to feel the smooth, warm skin.

“Soon,” Loren repeated, lips on my collarbone.

After a given value of _soon_ , I forced myself to not be distracted by baser sensations.  “We have to stop,” I mumbled against her mouth.

My lips understood her response more than my ears.  “Haven’t we?” Her fingertips grazed my face.

There was a pause until I said thickly, “I don’t think we’ve stopped until you get off me.”

So close together I could feel the smile on her face, but Loren leaned forward, kissed me quickly, and dismounted.  “You should leave your phone at home.”  Her voice was breathless.

“Comes with the job, I’m afraid,” I said as I sat up, and I quickly averted my eyes from the tempting presentation Loren unconsciously gave. Standing and situating myself, closing the front on my shirt, I sighed.  “I guess I have to leave.”

“You _guess_?” she repeated archly, and I looked back at her.  Still a temptation, perhaps even more now, because now _she_ was allowed to sprawl into the space I had vacated on the couch.  For a moment, I could have faltered.

“Well, I will _kill_ Jake if this isn’t important,” I vowed.

Loren laughed.  “I’ll help.” 

“Good night, Loren.”  I bent for a quick kiss.

“Bye, Alan.”

Another kiss, not very quick.  “Bye,” I whispered, smiling.  And then I turned and saw Champ, still watching us like we were the most rivoting thing he had ever seen.  Now I felt embarrassed, foolishly.  “Next time, Champ gets locked in some other room, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s _looking_ at me.”

“It didn’t bother you before.”

“I was too distracted to let it.”

“Then we’ll just make sure you’re always distracted,” Loren compromised. 

“The promises you make.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I am,” I said.  “Really.  I’m going now.  Bye.”  I very nearly kissed her again, but my head was returning enough to realize that would have been detrimental to my goal.

Smiling, she repeated my words, and I quickly departed, slightly avoiding Champ’s gaze.

Outside in the cooler air, my head was clearer and I forced myself to comprehend Jake’s message.  No, I still didn’t understand the connection between Yeerks and Yoo-hoo.  Away from Loren, the distance growing farther as I drove, I could admit with embarrassment and a little self-disgust that I hadn’t paid enough attention.  I wasn’t looking forward to admitting such a thing to any of the children, but I was going to have to get in contact with Jake to clear this matter up. 

Though, for Jake’s sake, it had _better_ be important.  If it really did deal with Yoo-hoo, I severely doubted it would be.

 ****

Eating a cheese sandwich, I sat back and continued reading the Yeerk-based chat room.  Very little change in conversation had happened while I had been in the kitchen.

While I did not think this was so important that I had to be interrupted when I was with Loren, it was not so unimportant that it warranted Jake’s untimey death.  There was enough information about this that some of it was probably true.  But definitely not all of it.

No new arrivals had entered for me to write down and determine allegiances, which was a challenge on this primitive method of communication.  It was hilarious that humans considered this more advanced than telephones.

Despite both Aximili’s and my programming, there were limitations as to how far we could go.  The actual personal information for users of WAA was beyond our abilities, though it was only because the personal information was kept in a separate directory that could only be accessed by WAA consoles.  I had already bought a plane ticket to go to the headquarters tomorrow.  The children insisted they were to accompany me, just in case this was an elaborate trap, as miscellaneous insects.  As long as they stayed close, I didn’t think they had to worry about being swatted.

I just hoped I didn’t let my own anxiety show through.  The last time I had been on a plane, those many years ago, my claustrophobia had gotten the best of me.

_The idea of flying in an airplane was almost amusing to me. Andalites don’t use such primitive means, haven’t for years. But, seeing one up close, having to board one to travel, the humor left me. All I became was nervous. Even more nervous than yesterday, when I had been standing in front of the church with all of the humans looking at me in the hot and sticky suit, waiting for Loren and the questions, making sure I didn’t lock my knees, because Tom said if I did I was going to keel over in a faint.  And then, after he thought about the advice, he said to do it, because he needed the laugh during the sentencing, and my friends had quickly taken my boss away before he could make me even more worried._

_“Are you sure this is it?” I asked Loren._

_She took my hand. However, instead of comforting my fear, she mocked me. “Does the technologically primitive thing scare you?” she cooed.” I won’t let it hurt you.” And she patted my hand consolingly._

_“Remind me again why I agreed to marry you.”_

_She kissed me._

_“Ah, that would be why,” I murmured, smiling slightly._

_Loren pretended to look offended, but she soon laughed. “I hope it’s not the only reason.”_

_“No, of course not. You can also cook.”  Not very good, but at this particular time, someone who could cook me delicious human food certainly had a point in their favor._

_She slapped my arm, a punishment for my exaggeration. “Did you know what my friends suggested we try?”_

_“No.”_

_Her grin widened. “Joining the Mile-high club.”_

_The term meant nothing to me, of course, though I had heard it before, and I nodded. “Tom said that as well, when I told him we were flying.”_

_“Would you like to join?”_

_There was something about the way she said it made me nervous and anxious, eager. “If you think we should.”_

_“Sometimes I think I’m only corrupting you.”_

_“Aren’t you?”_

_We boarded the plane, and looking around the interior, my breath hitched. My heart started pounding in my ears._

_“Al, what’s wrong?”_

_Sometimes I wish Loren was not so observant. “Nothing,” I lied._

_She clearly didn’t believe me, but Loren had learned not to press me on some things. Instead, she took my hand and squeezed it._

_Even in our seats my anxiety didn’t abate much. Too many people, too small a space. I felt like there wasn’t enough air, though I knew logically there was plenty. And then, when we were in the air, I started to feel nauseous. Me, who has been in numerous space vehicles. I swallowed convulsively, trying to not vomit, to control my heart, to regain my senses._

_Loren, at least, did not seem to suffer as I, or notice. She was looking out the window with the childish glee humans all seem to possess when using primitive technology._

_Part of me selfishly wanted to demand that I sit in the window seat, that I be the one to see the sky. But I could not deny her the simple pleasure. I will simply have to manage. It is my duty as a mate._

_After some time, Loren looked at me, smiling. Apparently I had gained enough control that she didn’t think I was still in distress. “Would you like to try joining?”  She grinned._

_I shrugged.  I had forgotten about the Mile-High club, whatever it was.  “I could ask the flight attendant for information,” I offered._

_Loren blinked at me, then laughed.  “You don’t know what it is, do you?” She sounded very amused._

_“Should I?”_

_“I thought Tom told you what it was,” Loren said._

_I shook my head.  “No.  He asked if we were going to, and I said I didn’t know.”  I paused, wondering what I was missing.  “I did ask him if it was worthwhile.”_

_“And what did he say?”_

_“That the novelty wore off, but the first time was fun.”  I was feeling nervous, panicked.  The small quarters heightened my nerves, and now I couldn’t know anything except I didn’t understand when I thought I had.  “That’s why he said he wouldn’t tell me not to join, that I needed some fun and to … cut loose.”_

_Loren was covering her mouth, hiding her smile, trying to not laugh at me, but it was obvious that was what she was doing.  I felt hurt and angered, and I looked away from her, focusing on my lap._

_I didn’t like this.  I didn’t like not understanding.  I didn’t like this small plane.  I didn’t like the way my stomach and throat felt._

_“Al –”  Loren touched my arm, but I shook it off.  I didn’t like being babied, either.  She tried again, in a softer voice.  “Elfangor, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to laugh.”_

_“I’m fine,” I said, crossing my arms._

_I could almost hear her frown.  “I can see that,” she said sarcastically._

_She was mad, I could tell.  I didn’t realize how much until she stood up and slipped in front of me.  “Where are you going?” I asked, slightly panicked.  I didn’t want to be left alone in this small space._

_Loren made a face.  “We’re 10,000 feet off the ground.  Where do you think?”  She obviously felt she had to answer (and she did, because I didn’t know).  “The bathroom.”_

_I turned in my seat to watch her go down the aisle, feeling abandoned.  I stayed turned in my seat, cheek against the fabric, waiting for her to reappear.  All I felt was miserable._

_The flight attendant passed and smiled at me.  “First time flying, sir?” she asked kindly._

_I nodded, even if it was a lie._

_“You flying alone?”_

_“My wife went to the bathroom.  She’ll be back.”_ I hope _._

_The lady smiled.  “Of course, Sir.  If you need anything, feel free to ask.  And … if you need to be sick, there’s a bag right here,” she said softly._

_“Oh.  Thank you.”_

_She nodded and continued on her trek up the aisle.  I turned and again watched the bathroom door.  There was no change in over five minutes, and, stupidly, I wondered if Loren had managed to leave the plane.  It made me even more nervous._

_Of course Loren couldn’t have left.  Maybe she was ill.  She couldn’t have left._

_Shakily, I stood up and went to the bathroom.  Just to check on her._

_I leaned against the door and knocked.  “Loren?  Loren, are you all right?”  No answer.  “Loren, it’s me.  Please?”_ Please open the door, please don’t have left. _“Please.”_

_I was beyond relieved when the door opened a bit.  Loren frowned at me.  “What, Al?”_

_“I … I was worried.”  She looked at me, disbelieving my admission.  I thought, maybe, I should offer a truce.  “I’m sorry.  If you still want to join that club, the stewardess said –”_

_Her face turned pink and she quickly grabbed my arm, yanking my arm and shutting the door.  “You told the stewardess we –”_

_I pressed against the wall, not hearing her.  My eyes darted around the cramp room, looking for a way to escape.  Too small, too small, crushing, too small, too small, too small, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, too small._

_“Elfangor, Elfangor, calm down, calm down,” Loren’s voice broke through, and I realized she was shaking me. I couldn’t calm myself though.  My heart was jumping, mind running, I was dizzy, light-headed._

_Suddenly my cheek was on fire, and I snapped back to reality, it only for a second.  Loren had slapped me._

_And then my stomach rebelled, and I covered my mouth.  Loren understood and quickly moved aside, helped me, as my stomach emptied.  Tears were in my eyes as I heaved._

_“Shh, shh, I’ve got you.  It’s all right.”_

_I whimpered._

_“Shh, shh.”_

_“I’m sorry,” I said pitifully.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”_

_“It’s all right.  I’ll be right back, okay.”  And her warmth left me, and I heard the door open._

_She wasn’t gone long, though, and suddenly there was a wet coolness on the back of my neck.  “This isn’t quite how I imagined we’d spend the time in the bathroom,” she said lightly.  “Can you make it back to our seats?”_

_“It’s too small,” I whimpered.  “Too tiny.  I can’t breathe.  Too small.”_

_Loren was silent for a moment.  “Shit, I forgot,” she said, and I felt her arms wrap around me.  I went willingly, eyes closed and I sighed, breathing in her perfume and scent, feeling safer.  Her fingers brushed through my hair.  “I’m sorry, I should have remembered how claustrophobic you are.  I thought being in first class would be enough.  I’m so sorry.”_

_I couldn’t answer.  Later, I knew I would feel very embarrassed at my actions, but right now I just wanted to be held._

_“Come on, let’s go.  We can’t sit in the bathroom the whole trip.”_

_She helped me stand and carefully led me back to our seats.  Loren guided me to the window seat, and I instantly turned and pressed my forehead against the cool glass, stared out at the blue sky and clouds.  I felt better already._

_A hand touched my shoulder.  “Al … Elfangor, here, drink some water,” Loren coaxed, and I turned a little to see a glass of ice water._

_“Thank you,” I whispered, taking the glass and drinking in small sips.  I leaned against side and kept staring out the window.  “I’m sorry I ruined this.”_

_“If everything was perfect, we’d have nothing to tell everybody on our fiftieth anniversary,” Loren responded, taking my hand.  “I think this will be a good story.”_

_My lips quirked.  “You must think I’m foolish.”  The shame was already building._

_“I think it’s endearing.  It’s why I married you, you know.”  She brushed my hair._

_“Really?”  I smiled, tightening my grip on her hand._

_“Yes.  Do you feel better?”_

_“A little,” I admitted._

_“Good.  It’s only a three-hour flight.”_

_“I know.”_

_“You could have just said something.”_

_“You liked looking out the window.  I didn’t want to take that from you.”_

_Loren snorted.  “So you’d rather have a panic attack and throw up.  You’re so romantic.  And stupid.”_

_“I didn’t have a panic attack.”_

_“Elfangor, I had to slap you.  It was a panic attack.”_

_“I know you always wanted to slap me. That’s just an excuse.”_

_“You’ve seen through me.  Come here.”  She pulled me down and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, kissed my hair.  I smiled, closed my eyes, and turned towards her.  Even though Loren didn’t offer a view of the sky, her perfume seemed to match my need._

_I don’t know when or how, but I fell asleep, feeling her fingers in my hair, smelling her perfume, and feeling completely calm._

Though embarrassed at the memory, it was pleasant to remember.  That didn’t mean I wanted a repeat though.  While showing such weakness in front of Loren had been embarrassing, it was far more preferable than doing so in front of the children or Aximili.  If they knew such a thing could get to me, it would destroy their faith in my abilities.  I couldn’t allow that, not in this war.  A Prince has to be someone to look to in all circumstances, someone who doesn’t panic, who can think.  If they saw me falter, the illusion would be shattered and their confidence could suffer, hope and faith fleeing.  I couldn’t do that to them.

Until the flight, though, I could determine names that the real identities were needed for.  I was more interested in learning who the Controllers were, but it was necessary to learn if the humans were of any use if taken.  Unless I could make the Controllers more obvious …

This was dangerous, stupid.  But, then again, so easy to do.  Easy to make a false account, mask my IP address, cover my tracks.  And this was a Yeerk trap – it obviously was; it was just debatable on whom they were trying to trap.  Innocent humans had to know.  They would be targeted by Yeerks and taken. 

It only took fifteen minutes.  A flaw in WAA made it all the more easy.  Andalite ingenuity made it so my screen name was masked to other users. 

Now, it was time to go fishing, and I typed a question and sent it into the middle of their current conversation.

**PrESS:** Does anyone know what an Andalite is?

I sat back and waited.  To other users, the question would have appeared without an asker, floating in midline.

**MegMom:** keep ourselves safe.

**CKDsweet** : Who are you?

**Chazz** :  An Andalite is an alien that fights Yeerks!  Where

**Chazz:** did you hear that?

**YrkH8ter** : Wrong.  Andalites fight for the yeerks!

I sat up straight and glared at the name, at the vicious lie the Controller was spreading. 

**PrESS** : Andalites do not fight for the Yeerks.

**Chazz** : Are you an Andalite?!?!?!!

**MegMom** : What’s an Andalite?  Is there a picture here?

The conversation turned to describing what an Andalite was, and I sat back to read.  The insight was helpful.  Several of the chatters, most whom I determined were Controllers, denied bits that were true.  But I refrained from commenting.  While my programming was secure, I could not be sure I was completely safe. Already, I bet the Controllers were trying to find my location. Chatting repeatedly might make me vulnerable.

**Gump8293** : save my dad???

**Fitey777** : Are you going to help us?

**MallRoy** : Are you there?

**PrESS** : You all have placed yourselves in great risk.  There are Controllers among you, pretending to be one of you.  It is an easy manner to break into records, get your real identities, and track IP addresses, with or without “cookies.”  Your efforts are to be commended, but your execution will get you killed.

Even though most stayed, a few left the chat, taking my warning wisely to heart.

**Chazz** : We can help you stop the Yeerks!

**YrkH8er** : Kill all Yeerks!

**MegMom** : Help us

My hearts went out to them, the ones that were trying to save themselves and begged for help, but there was nothing I could do to help them, not really.  They had already exposed themselves to the Yeerks, were too risky to speak with.  I could only hope my warning gave them a few more weeks of freedom.  Each of them would be taken.  Perhaps their knowledge of me put them in a degree more of danger, but they were already on the path.

I didn’t comment anymore.  Just sat back and read what everyone said, and when the chat time ended, I made sure to delete all traces of my activities.  In any case, now I had more important things to worry about

Like not freaking out during my flight.

 ****

For housing such valuable information, WAA was remarkably easy to break into, the way paved with guided tours where helpful humans did their job and pointed out important systems.  The children provided a wonderful, most amusing distraction, allowing me to break in and copy the appropriate files.  I was outside of the building waiting for the children to make their escape.

But, the best was that I remained perfectly poised on both legs of the plane trip.  The children and Aximili would had had no idea about my nerves, if only because they did not see my white knuckles on the armrest and how I spent more time looking out the window and practicing deep breathing.

Examining the names of the chatters, I noticed the majority were within the state.  Turning my attention to the list of Controllers, I wasn’t surprised more than a few of them were fake accounts.  I would set those aside to see exactly how fake they were later.

Cassie was on a desperate path to save young _Gump_ , a child whose father was a Controller.  She already protested my decision not to do anything with him, protested it most vehemently.

“We can’t just let him get taken!  He’s close enough that we can help him.”

“Then what do you suggest, Cassie?” I said.  “The best we can do is tell the boy to not trust his father.  We can’t save him any more than that.”

“Then we do that!  How can you even this of just sacrificing him like that?”

I looked at her.  “If you try to save everyone, everyone dies.”

Her face contorted at my words, but Cassie didn’t vocalize her protests.

“What about Joe Bob Fenestre?” Jake asked.

“Fenestre’s the guy in the middle.  We have to figure out if he’s a Controller or not,” Marco said.  “We have to deal with him now.”

Yes.  Fenestre had been a surprise.  One of the world’s richest humans, one who knew about the Yeerks.  I didn’t understand.  If he was a Controller, I thought it might be recent, because I couldn’t see the Yeerks not having a wealthy human support _The Sharing_.  But it was just likely he was free.  And he had money and resources, connections.  Things we lacked.

“Fenestre lives nearby,” I said, pulling up a map.  “A very large home.  Though why a human would need one so large is beyond me.”

“It’s how the rich live.  It’s how I’m going to live,” Marco stated.

“So delusional,” Rachel sighed, shaking his head.

“A place that big is going to have security,” Tobias said.

Aximili agreed.  “And if he is aware of Yeerks, he may worry about an attack.  Possibly.”

Pulling up images of the buildings, I examined them for weaknesses or where guards would be.  Blind spots.  “I think we could fly and land there, get inside.  We’ll have to get to his office.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rachel approved, though a bit dejectedly.  She preferred mayhem over order.

“Joe Bob, Joe Bob.  The man knows how to life.  I bet with _his_ millions he doesn’t drive around a tacky old minivan,” Marco said.  “Only classics like BMWs and Porches and Vipers.”

“Ferraris or Jags,” Tobias added.

I shook my head at them.  “I do drive a Mustang, as well.  And there is nothing wrong with a minivan.  It’s perfectly functional.”

“Elfangor, cars aren’t supposed to be functional.  They’re supposed to be chick magnets,” Marco said.

“Why would my brother want to attract immature fowl?” Aximili asked.

 ****

No creature that is innocent needs to be this paranoid.  That was my decided verdict as we did our fly-by.  Dogs, countless guards, trip wires, and alarms.  What else was there?

‹So, are we diving in or what?› Rachel demanded.  ‹I’m getting sick off just flying in circles.›

‹Are you sick of living, too?› I snapped.  ‹You don’t – great, look! Look, there, at the third window on the ground floor.  Look, that fly just got shocked. There are fields.  Pay attention!›

‹No regular human should have fields like that,› Aximili said.

‹They got Joe Bob?› Marco whimpered.

‹So then how are we going to get in?› Jake asked.  ‹If we can’t sneak in through the windows or doors?›

‹If we can’t go through them, we’ll bypass them.  Find me a secluded guard.›

‹What are you going to do?› Cassie asked.

‹Just find one,› I said, diving down to another yard.  It took a while before I found a decorative rock that was heavy enough to cause damage, but not so much that I couldn’t carry it.  Pumping hard, I forced myself into the air and back to Fenestre’s yard.

The children had found a guard near the back, alone.  It was child’s play to drop the rock on his head and watch him crumble.

‹We have to work fast,› I said, diving down without waiting for their agreement.  Once one the ground I demorphed as fast as I could.

‹No one’s coming,› Tobias reported, keeping his usual eye-in-the-sky role.  The other children and Aximili were down.

‹What are you doing?› Rachel asked.

My Andalite hands, already turning to human, were ruffling through his jacket and pockets, and I was rewards in finding the card pass. 

‹The pass,› Marco approved. 

‹Yes.›

I quickly stripped the human of his clothes and dressed.  They were loose in the chest and tight in the legs and waist, and Cassie said, ‹Where’d you get that morph?›  Her tone was accusatory.

Without looking up at the osprey while I dragged the human under some bushes, I said, ‹I have a few different human forms.  Most were acquired through blood donations at the hospital.  Do you think I only have one human form and rely only on it?  Fool’s practice with what I have to do.›

They didn’t say anything to that, though I felt later Aximili might ask me if I thought he should get another form as well.  That would be up to him.  My form was an adult, and humans notice adults. 

Dressed and armed, I went to the door and slid the card over the pass.  When the light turned green, I opened the door and rushed inside, held the door open so the children and Aximili could fly in.  “Be careful, now,” I said, letting them go off on their own.  “Keep in contact.”

The house was large, too large.  It was going to be a trial to find any answers in this place.  But it wouldn’t do any good complaining about it, so I started to move.

 ****

Part of me cursed having only two eyes, and I turned slowly and looked at the human with narrowed eyes.  I recognized the face from the images.  Fenestre.

“Get away from the computer.”

I stepped away slowly, carefully, hands visible.  I wondered if I could somehow draw and fire before he could, but then no, because he was already drawn and pointing at my head.  ‹Children, if someone could render assistance, I would be most appreciative.›

‹What?›

‹Where are you?›

‹Brother?›

‹Rather quickly, if you please,› I continued calmly, eyes on the gun.

“Who are you?”

“The one you’re pointing the gun at,” I said with an affected accent.

Fenestre’s eyes narrowed.  “How’d you get in here?”

“Door.”

He sneered at me.  “Did my brother send you?”

“Don’t know anything about your family.  Only interested in your computer.”

“So one of my competitors sent you?”  He nearly laughed, but he kept the gun on my face.  “How’d you break in?”

“We can’t be sharing all of our trade secrets, Mr. Fenestre.”

“I hope they paid you enough for your widow, because –”

Suddenly there was a crashing and a roar, a trumpet.  Alarms blared, and Fenestre turned.  I took advantage of the momentary lapse, grabbed a paperweight on the desk, and threw it hard.  Even with my notoriously bad aim, he was close enough that I didn’t miss, and I dove and tackled him to the ground. 

I never learned how to fight as a human, but I did my best and managed to pin him down only by the bulk of my form.

“Mr. Fenestre, that isn’t nice,” I growled, face hurt from more than one punch.  I drew the gun on him and pointed it an inch within his face, while all around us there was crashing and roaring and gun fire.  The children had taken my plea for help in a way I had not intended, to provide a distraction for the guards.  I was worried about the children, but I had to focus.  “I told a little lie, I fear.  I’m not from another company.”

His eyes widened at the roar and the noise, focused on the gun.  “Pay them no mind.  They’re just having fun.  You have a strange little hobby for fun, though, don’t you?  A little webpage.”

“That’s what this is about?” he gasped.

‹Elfangor!› Marco appeared at the door, gorilla.  ‹Ah, I see you have things under control.›

‹The rest of you all right?›

‹Yes.  Cassie just hosed some guards and Rachel broke down three walls.  And Tobias swiped some guy’s toupee. No Hork-Bajir, so I think we’re in the clear there.›

I nodded vaguely.  ‹Make sure the hall stays clear.  I’m going to chat with our host.›

“You’re the bandits!” Fenestre gasped.  “Why would you be interested in me?”

“You tell us,” I said.  “A webpage, designed to hunt out knowledgeable humans.  One where you pretend to fight the Yeerks, Controller.  You can see why it sparks our interest.”

“You were looking for allies?  Were you trying to see if I was for you or against you?”  He laughed, even with the gun to his head, and he relaxed under me.  “If you’re going to kill me, go ahead.  Being killed by an Andalite, there’s some honor there, I suppose.  Better than what my brother would have planned for me.”

“And who would your brother be?”

“Shall I tell you who I am?”

“Shall I tell you who I am?” I hissed back, getting impatient, and I dug a knee into him.

“One of you warned the humans in the chat room. Do you know what you did to me?”

“I thought you were going to tell us.  Who are you?”

“I’m Epslin 9466.”

My teeth gritted.  “Do not lie to me!  That is Visser Three’s name!”

Fenestre’s eyes widened.  “So you know my brother!  He is my twin, the Primary, while I am the Lesser.  While he got all the power, I had to take what I could.  So I joined with this human and together we got our power.  Power that makes my brother jealous.”

I made a grim smile.  “Visser Three does not like to share.”

“No.  And I have access to information he could never dream at.  I am the better!  But he declared me a traitor, cut me off from the Kandrona.”

“And yet you live.  How?  No Yeerk could make a Kandrona with this limited Earth technology.”

“Why should I tell you?”

I shrugged and cocked the hammer back.  “So be it.”

“No!  You should thank me!  I’m helping you!”

“I fail to see how.”

Fenestre spoke fast, eyes on the barrel at his forehead.  “I found a way to get Kandrona rays in a different way, to make it so I can ingest it with this human form.  It’s complicated, but it works.  My brother desires it, so he could grow in power.”

I dug the gun into his skin.  “What’s the way?”

He was babbling.  “Once every three days, I have to eat one of my brothers.  But thanks to you, the site, they’re leaving it! I needed that information, and you’ve made me lose it!”

My face twisted at the monster beneath me.  A cannibal.  “Forgive me if I don’t say I’m sorry, Dr. Lector.” 

“Impressive that you fall so easily into earth culture.”

“Isn’t it?”  With all my strength, I pistol-whipped him.  The blow struck him unconscious and I stood up and started to remove the clothes.  ‹We’re leaving.  Now!  Get to the skies.›

‹What about Fenestre?›

‹He’s worthless,› I spat as I demorphed, broke open the window, and cut the wires that made the field.

In ten minutes we were all in the air, and I reported what I had learned.

‹How’s he getting the Yeerks from the host?!› Cassie demanded.

‹Don’t ask a question you don’t want answered, Cassie,› I said lowly.  With this primitive technology, I could only imagine the humans’ heads being cracked open like a cantaloupe.  Barbaric.

The Yeerk was a monster, even if he did kill his own.  But he could have little time in the world, if the site truly was becoming defunct.  While he probably had a small list of Controllers, he needed a continual supply.  Ten yeerks in thirty days.  The list I made didn’t even have that many, but then again, I had only sat through a few hours of chats.  But by his panic, he didn’t have that many more.  Maybe enough for two months, and then he would run out.  I wouldn’t bother with pity for him.

The mansion below us was in ruin.  It was fitting, I thought, for the creature to have the buildings and lifestyle he desired so much destroyed in such a fashion, ruined beyond all comprehension.  It was … what did the humans call it?  Karma?  Yes, that’s it.

And karma was a bitch.

 ****

The groceries fell from my suddenly limp hands.  “My car!”

My car, my lovely Mustang, was sandwiched between two other vehicles, the van I had parked alongside and the truck that had thoughtlessly careened into the Mustang’s side.

“I believe a human adolescent has crashed his vehicle into it,” Aximili said needlessly.  And not quite that coherently, eating the powdered donuts as he pushed the cart.  His mouth was full and the powder covered his lips, chin, and fingers.

I gasped, rushing over to the scene and leaving my bags behind.  Police were already there getting statements, and I, in shock, set my hands on the twisted metal.  Yes, I know, foolish, getting this distraught for a simple combustion engine.  I was an Andalite fighter pilot, had flown the best ships in the fleet in far more dangerous and thrilling ways a human car could never compete in.  But this was my car!

Crushed.  Destroyed.  My car!

“Is this your car, Sir?”  My face, upon turning to see the officer, must have been enough.  I could have been crying, for all I knew.  “I’m sorry, Sir.  It truly was a lovely car.”

Yeah, it was.  It _was_.  “ … What … how …?”  Well, aside from the damned obvious!

“A young man took the turn too fast and sharp.”

“Is he all right?” I asked thickly, and with a strange tone the officer found amusing.  No doubt I would have as well, but all I wanted to do at the moment was wring the little weasel’s neck.

“He’s fine.  And no one else was harmed.”

“That’s good.”  About everyone else, I mean.

The officer continued speaking to me, asking for my insurance information.  I gave it to him absently, still distraught.  Aximili had made it to my side, the donuts gone, and he was helping himself to the peanut butter.  I couldn’t even think to tell him not to.

“Al, how are we going to return to the residence?” he asked.

I gaped at him.  How could he be thinking about such trivial matters when my car had been totaled?  Thankfully, the officer intervened.  “I’ll be happy to give you a ride to your home, Mr. Fangor.”

“Thank you.”

However, this was proving to be a problem.  Aximili and I planned our shopping expeditions precisely so we would not have to demorph.  However, we were behind too much for comfort.  There was no choice.

“Excuse me.  I need to go buy some aspirin,” I said thickly to the officer.  “Immediately.”

He looked ready to tell me to stay, but I didn’t give him the chance, taking Aximili roughly by the arm.  “Elfa—”

“Do not push me, Aximili,” I hissed.  He wisely stayed silent until we got to the bathroom.  I pushed him into a stall.  “Demorph and remorph.  I’ll keep watch.”

Then we changed places.  As I washed my hands, Aximili looked at me strangely.  “Why are you upset for the collision?”

“Because, one, if I wasn’t, it would be suspicious.  And two, because I am!”

“But why?  You are reacting as Marco would to the destruction of a primitive machine.”

I turned and looked at him as I wiped my hands.  “Just because it is primitive does not mean it isn’t satisfying.  Do not think I purchase things arbitrarily, brother.  I buy things because they please me.  And the Mustang certainly did.”

“You may purchase another one, could you not?”

I closed my eyes and sighed.  ‹Aximili, you have never actually flown a fighter.  But trust me, when your first one is destroyed, another never takes its place.  Never.›  Then I opened my eyes.  “Yes.  Now come on.  I need some aspirin.”

He didn’t question me after that.  Nor did he say anything when I opened the bottle in the check-out line and downed several without water.  I purchased it (as well as a bag of Snickers) and went back out into the sun. 

The officer was waiting.  He said he took the liberty of putting our purchases in the trunk of his car and that we could leave immediately.  The car was going to be towed to a garage.  They would give me an estimate on the damages and repairs, and I could determine if I wished to keep the vehicle. 

I sat in the front seat.  Aximili sat in the back. “There are no door handles,” he said, pressed up against the cage.

“That’s so you can’t escape,” the officer grinned.

“He means those under arrest,” I said wearily when Aximili looked panicked.  “Just sit back and buckle up.”

Aximili wasn’t soothed, but he did as I told.  The officer chuckled and started the car, leaving behind the wreck of the vehicle.  I watched it leave my sight sadly. 

“The boy was very sorry.”

“I’m sure.  His parents will probably kill him.”

“Nah.  I know the Youngs.  They’re a nice sort.  Just ground him for life.”

That name sounded familiar.  “Young?”  Then it clicked.  “They wouldn’t have an older boy named Roger, would they?”

“Aye, they do.  Know him?”

“Met him. Once.”

Okay.  That’s it.  The Yeerks were going down.  No one messes with my Mustang.

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose between my eyes. The ride was mostly silent.  The officer made small talk, but I was not in the mood to indulge, and Aximili was not a master. 

“We usually do not take this way to our home,” Aximili said suddenly.

My eyes snapped open and I saw that he was right.  Fool! I cursed myself.  “Where are we going?” I demanded.

“There’s no reason to be worried, Mr. Fangor.  There’s been another accident off the main highway.  Traffic’s being rerouted.”

“Accidents certainly are abounding,” I said lowly.

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

I sat tensely.  We were trapped.  My mind shifted through the possibilities, possible ways of escape.  I could think of nothing, looking out the window at the forests.  I couldn’t even know if the officer was a Controller.  Well, perhaps I could test that, at least.

I groaned and rubbed my eyes.  “God, this is not my day.  I swear I just saw a blue deer.”

The officer … he laughed.  “A blue deer?  That headache of yours must be a killer.”

“Must be,” I laughed, and I turned to smile at Aximili.  His eyes were wide, face pale, but he smiled as well.  “Just the stress.”

“Just take a long nap, Mr. Fangor.  Rest.”

“Yes, doctor.  As long as you don’t tell everyone I’m mad as a hatter, seeing blue deer in the woods.”  I would hate for him to attract Yeerk attention because of me.

“Deal.”

I felt relaxed, and even more so when my home came into view.  The officer was kind enough to help bring in the groceries and cheerfully waved good-bye.  Not before, however, I asked about the boy who hit my car.

“Will?  He’s a good kid, you know, Mr. Fangor.  Just got his license.  I think he’s been having a tough time with his brother and parents.  That age, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Well, theoretically.   I doubt Andalites act as human teenagers do.  At least, I hadn’t, and I am quite positive my parents shall be in agreement.

“He’s rebelling, I think.  Rog, his brother, is big into _The Sharing_.  Great club, love it myself, but Will … he’s more other-side-of-the-track.  With this accident, well he’s lucky I was the one that got the call.  I’ll buffer it with his folks.”

“That’s good of you.  And, if it’s any issue, I won’t make a deal of it.  As painless as possible on my end.”

The officer smiled.  “That’d be great.  You should have seen him freaking when he saw he hit your Mustang.  Of course, I was thinking pretty much the same thing when I saw your face.”

“Well, it was a Mustang.”

When the officer left, I ran a hand over my face.  So not a Yeerk problem.  Just some poor unlucky kid.  Damn.  I had been looking forward to killing him.

 ****

“Boys and their toys,” Loren smirked.

I snorted and tried to move away.  “Fine, mock me.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, stopping my escape.  “Oh, don’t be angry.  I’m sure your Mustang was very precious to you.”  She nibbled my neck.

“You’re sill mocking me,” I murmured, blissfully.

“Of course I am.  You’re tense.  All knotted up.”  I twisted as her hands massaged my back.

“Left, left.  Yes.  Right there.”

She chuckled as I moaned my appreciation.  “You have to learn to relax.”

I turned my head and kissed her.  “Then teach me.”

 ****

The children and Aximili had gone to the opening of the new Planet Hollywood.  When I had dropped them off, I had given Aximili thirty dollars to enjoy himself and, freed of children and responsibilities, I went to Loren's.  She had been amused.

"Do you ever spend time with Ax?"

"I spend my days with him.  Can't I spend a few nights with you?" I replied cheekily.  "And he and his friends wanted to go to Planet Hollywood."

Her face lit up.  "That sounds fun."

"Did you want to go?" I asked, surprised, and felt my stomach plummet.  I didn't want to go to some busy opening and look at humans that were supposedly famous, but I should have asked if she would have been interested.  "I could have maybe gotten tickets or something."  If the children managed to, I certainly could have.

"No, no," she said quickly, but I heard the wistfulness.  "It just sounds fun."

"Sounds like torture."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"No, what did you mean?"

I shook my head.  "The place will be a madhouse, too crowded.  I'd have to watch my brother and his friends.  Have you been around six teenagers?  It's exhausting."

Loren gave a strange little smile.  "Didn't really think about that."

"Consider it a gift if you can't."

"Maybe."

We had a quiet supper before becoming distracted in habits that, in my personal opinion, should happen a bit more often.  Lying on my side in her bed afterwards, I traced my finger over her shoulder and toyed with hair, but she twitched and moved her hair back when I brushed aside up by the side of her face, my fingers ghosted over the uneven texture.

"Hey," I scolded kindly.

"I don't like people looking," she said, rolling to face away from me.

My hand hung in the air for a second before I set it down on the sheets.  I thought Loren knew I wasn't put off by her disfigurement.  "It doesn't bother me."

"It bothers me."

"It doesn't matter what you look like."

Her voice was bitter.  "Easy for you to say.  You don't have to deal with the sounds of surprise and disgust."

I slid closer and wrapped my arm around her, though timidly in case Loren should reject the overture.  "Humans are always too concerned about outer appearances," I said softly.

"And you're not?"

"I'm not human," I smiled, kissing her neck.

"Yeah?  Then what are you?"

I pretended to think.  "Someone usually calls me an ass.  Maybe I'm that or something alphabetically close to it."

I felt her trying not to laugh.  "Someone calls you names and you take that?  You're such a doormat."

"Yes, I am."  I agreed. "Just remember, outside appearances don't mean anything.  Some of the vilest creatures in the universe look and act like everyone else.  I know the inner you, and it is beautiful, and I hope you feel mine is similar.  It's all that matters."

"It's a nice theory."

"Do you mean to say that you don't like my insides?" I teased.

"You have terrible intestines."

I tickled her, and she curled and squealed in surprise.  From the other side of the door, Champ barked, fearing his mistress was in trouble, or at least dangerous trouble, because she was _in trouble_.  She twisted and tried to push aside my hands away, before she changed tactics.  I gasped and recoiled instinctively, a mistake that Loren pounced on.  Stupid, weak human form, I was unused to the sensitivity. Never was, and I tried to twist away, get away without risking harm.  The sheets and blankets were trapping me.

"Give up?" Loren demanded, as I lay gasping and breathless with laughter.

"N-yes, yes!  Stop!" I yelled.

"You're such a wuss," she giggled, sitting back.  "And helpless, if a blind woman can take you down.  Remind me to never get attacked in a dark alley with you."

"I'm better against guns," I defended.

Her hand slapped my chest.  "Sure you are."

"You have no faith in me," I pouted.

Smiling, Loren bent and gave me a kiss.  "Nope.  None at all."

"You're mean."

"Truth hurts."

"You hate my insides and you think I'm a coward.  Why do I put up with this?"

"You're an idiot and a glutton for punishment."

"Now, those I won't disagree with." 

"Thank you.  For saying what you did.  And maybe meaning it."

I sighed dramatically.  "And now you call me a liar.  It's a wonder you even put up with me."

Her fingers tapped against my chest like she was playing a piano.  "You have your uses, few that they are.  Speaking of which ...."  I looked up at her, grinned, and pushed myself up.  However, I stopped when she said, "Tell me something.  Something about my life from before."

My mind had to rework its train of thought, and I fell back into the pillows.  "Like what?"

Shrugging, she rubbed her fingers lightly against me.  "Whatever you like."

"You could narrow it down," I said, trying to think of a good instance.  "You tried to teach me softball.  You, ah, failed."

She lay down next to me.  "Tell me about it."

_"This is a softball.  And this is a bat."_

_I scowled at her.  "I know that.  I did read the manual."_

_Loren grinned.  "There's more to softball than reading rules, Elfangor.  I can't have you embarrassing me."_

_"I'm a terrific player of sports," I said.  I was very good at any Andalite game I took part in.  While not the best player, other players didn't avoid having me on their team.  This softball was going to be easy._

_"I'm sure you are.  Now, I'm going to go back to the mound and give you a few easy throws.  Just keep your eye on the ball and hit it as hard as you can."_

_That didn't sound difficult at all.  The instruction manual told me all about proper hand positions when holding the bat and what to do then I hit the ball.  If little human children could do this, so could I._

_"Ready?"_

_"Of course."_

_Loren threw the ball, and then I realized a flaw.  How was I supposed to keep an eye on the ball with only two eyes that pointed in the same direction?  It was impossible!_

_"Nice try," she called.  "You just swung too early.  Here, toss me the ball!"  She hit her glove._

It was just a fluke _, I thought as I bent to retrieve the ball._ Now that I know what to do, I'll hit it the next time.  If a human can do this, I certainly can _._

_I threw the ball to where Loren was, except the ball decided to go to the left and land in front of her.  Even though Loren had run to get it, she missed.  I blushed when I saw her cast me a look, but she didn't say anything.  "Ready?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Raise your elbow and widen your stance a little."_

_"What?"  This was how they stood in the book!_

_She jogged to me.  "Here, put your hands there, elbow here, and feet at shoulder's length.  Yeah, just like that."_

_My face felt warm and I tried to avoid her gaze.  I would have to reread that chapter on proper stance, apparently!_

_When she went back to where she would pitch the ball, I struggled to maintain the position she put me in, making sure everything was right._

_"Okay, here it comes!"_

_How could someone hit a ball in this position?!  It was no surprise I missed again._

_"Nice try!"_

_The pattern continued, and I only got more and more frustrated and embarrassed, especially when Loren disappeared to get a bucket of balls so I wouldn't have to throw them back to her.  Even when she told me to hit the ball, I missed._

_"Okay, let's try something else.  I'm going to go get a tee."_

_"What's a tee?"_

_"It's something to practice hitting the ball."_

_"Do other humans use it?" I asked suspiciously._

_Loren faltered.  "Some humans do.  Even in games."_

_"Really?"  That was okay, then, if other humans used such a method.  I hadn't read anything about tees in the manual, but apparently that manual wasn't very good, for Loren kept correcting me.  I wondered why she suggested that particular reference to learn from._

_"Yep.  Be right back."  Within a few minutes, Loren returned with an apparatus with a base and a center stick.  She set it down in front of me, raised it up, and then set the ball on it.  "There.  Now you can try hitting it."_

_"If this is used in games, why would they need a pitcher?" I asked._

_"Only some players use a tee.  Go on, try."_

_Of course, first she had to correct my stance again, and it took two swings, but I did manage to hit the ball.  It went a good distance, if I say so myself, and I beamed.  This made so much more sense that having a ball thrown at you!  You could actually keep your eye on this ball!_

_I got better at hitting the ball off the tee, though I was a bit put out when Loren suggested we go back to her pitching._

_"I don't want to hit the ball anymore," I complained.  "I could throw the ball so you could hit it."_

_Loren's eyes widened.  "Umm ... let's practice throwing the ball first, okay."  Disappointed, I agreed and she gave me an old glove.  "We'll just throw it back and forth, limber up.  Try to catch the ball when I throw it to you."_

_It was clear to me within a few seconds that this involved more eyes on the ball.  I missed, even though I was right where the ball should have been.  And this throwing ... there had to be some trick to it!_

_"You're doing great, Elfangor," Loren encouraged, but I was starting to get the feeling that she was lying to me.  She lied when she said this game was easy, she probably lied when she said other humans used that tee, and she was lying now when she said my efforts were good._

_And it wasn't right!  I should be able to_ do _this!  It was a stupid human game!  A stupid primitive game!  There was no trick to it!  Just hitting and catching a stupid white ball!  And I couldn't do either!_

_When Loren accidentally hit me with the ball, I refused to play anymore.  I wouldn't put up with this humiliation any longer.  And Loren didn't even try to coax me try again, just agreed to take me home and put some ice on my arm, which said more to me than anything._

Loren laughed into my side.  "You couldn't have been so bad.  You're lying."

"No.  No, I am actually _understating_ how bad I really was," I said dryly.  "So you shouldn't look at it like a failing on your part – I was unteachable."

"Are you still?"

"Probably."

"I'm glad there are some things you aren't good at.  I'm glad there were some things I was better at than you," she added quietly.

"You were better than me at a lot of things."

"Like what?" she asked eagerly.

"Like softball.  And standing upright.  Dressing.  Roller-skating. Talking to people without insulting them.  Making friends.  Sewing.  Bowling.  Getting out of trouble."

"Did I get us into it?"

"No.  I think that was where I came in."

"Alan," she laughed.  "You're such a liar, sometimes.  But thanks."  She snuggled against me and I wrapped my arms around her.

"You're welcome."

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, chatrooms. Who remembers those? Now it'd be all reddit and Tumblr posts, because we all know Facebook is dated. Heck, even those are probably dated too. ;-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caring and Guiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 19, excluding Book 18, which moved itself in this timeline

Coffee, especially the flavored sort, is a brand of ambrosia.  I should start making a habit of buying different flavors weekly.  Looking at the paper, though, I nearly spat out the drink reading the excitement at the Planet Hollywood opening.  It wasn't that it was a surprising happenstance, but that it was something that one of the children, or at least Aximili, would have told me about, I thought.  That would be a lot of excitement, especially since there was a small bit of an article about a group of birds that seemingly tried to help the suicidal human.  That stank of the children's involvement.  I couldn't see why they won't tell me.  I wouldn't be upset if the children had tried to save his life.  Unless they were afraid I would discover they were up to something else.

No.  No, they were decent children, and Aximili was responsible.  I hadn't returned until late.  It was my own fault that I wasn't here to be told.

Still ... I would ask them about it.  Part of me felt hurt that they didn't share it with me. 

I spent the day cleaning the house, something I had been postponing.  All of the bedding, whether or not the beds got used, was stacked to be washed after the clothing.  The windows were washed - while I loved the number of windows, I could admit this was one time I did not care for the feature - and the kitchen and bathroom floor were mopped. 

While I was vacuuming, part of me wished I had caught the children doing something terrible again.  Even if it was slave labor, it was better them than me.

I suppose if I did ask Aximili to assist, he would do so without much complaint.  But he would make the subtle point that he only spent maybe fifteen-percent of his time in the building and should therefore only clean an equal amount.  I didn't feel like thinking of a rebuttal or admitting he was right, so I didn't ask. 

Cleaning house always took a long time, especially since my two-hour limit made me more prone to do something _else_ after I changed forms.  The children, once they realized my current trend, didn't visit often.  In fact, once they told me that, yes, they did save the human's life, they practically ran away, even Tobias.  Obviously, they had bad memories of cleaning the last time, which was terrible.  This time I would have let the use the lawnmower to trim the yard, and they wouldn't have to touch a toothbrush if they didn't want to.

Three days later, I was still cleaning, though I was almost done.  The garage was finished and all I had left was the yard work.  When the children came, the lawn had been half mowed and they told me that the human they had saved had been committed for, among other things, saying he had an alien in his head.

"Still?" I asked, wiping the sweat off my forehead.  "He's been under surveillance since he tried to commit suicide.  How can he still have a Yeerk in his head?"

The children didn't like my question.  _I_ didn't like my question.

"My mom's representing him," Rachel said.  "I know he's being kept at the nut house."

"You shouldn't call it that," Cassie scolded.

"Do you suppose you could get in and visit him?" I asked Rachel.

"Is that a good idea?" Marco cut in.  "If we're going to be talking about Yeerks, we don't want them to know it's us.  There'll be a record of Rachel visiting."

It was a good point.  "I suppose slipping in could be used."

"We can go as bugs and break in," Rachel said

I frowned.  They all knew I couldn't be an insect.

"We can do this, Elfangor," Jake said, understanding my expression.  "He's locked up, and the Yeerks aren't going to come to take care of a crazy person."

I still wasn't willing.  I'd almost prefer them to just visit and pretend to be assisting Rachel's mother, despite the risks.  "It is -"

"Come _on_ , Elfangor.  We're not little babies.  We can walk and feed and not get ourselves killed without you watching us," Marco said. 

"Besides, we have to learn how he's breaking the three-day rule," Tobias pointed out.  "And fast.  If more Yeerks end up doing this, we'll lose our advantage."

Looking intently at them, I finally sighed.  "Very well.  Jake will be in charge.  Take Aximili so your times will be monitored.  And stay safe."

 ****

"We've got this super-weapon and you're not going to let us use it?!" Rachel demanded.

"No," I repeated from under the sink.  The garbage disposal was acting up.

"Why not?"

"Because," I started, pressing the reset button, "while _now_ this method is addictive and damaging to the sanity of the Yeerks, the fact remains that they can stay in their hosts.  I don't plan on giving them a reason to compound a drug that will get rid of the unpleasant side effect."  I looked up at the children and then pulled myself up. 

"They could do that?" Jake asked.

Testing the disposal, I was pleased that it sounded better.  "Unlikely, but understand I do not actually know the biochemistry that is causing the change.  For instance, opioids taken in high doses without a tolerance can lead to addiction and other brain issues.  But, if used properly, they act only as pain management and a user may take doses that would kill another.  Also, the oatmeal is possibly only dangerous if it is digested by the human host.  We can't possibly feed them all."

"But we could drop it in the pool!  It will probably work that way," Marco argued.

"No, it very likely won't," I said crossing my arms and leaning against the sink.

"My brother is right.  Materials taken orally would be subjected to different clearances and mechanisms.  And we cannot determine if the Yeerk will make the same reactions, since we do not even know how the human bodies are making it occur," Aximili agreed.  "I remember in class that Yeerks pick up their nutrients with osmosis nodes."

Rachel made a sound and kicked the floor.  "This is a huge chance, and you won't even try!  We could wipe them out."

I frowned at her.  "Who would we be wiping out?  Maybe a few hundred Yeerks that are kept on the Earth-based pool.  But they will be mostly lowly Yeerks.  Cannon fodder.  And what will happen to the hosts during that time?  They will be kept until new Yeerks are brought here, or possibly merely killed. 

"And _how_ do you intend to get into the Pool and deposit the oatmeal for either the hosts or the Yeerks?"

"We just sneak down in there," Rachel said confidently.  "It'll be easy."

Shaking my head at such an answer, I repeated my question.  "How?  As bugs?  How do you plan to bring the oatmeal, one flake at a time?  That that is assuming the Yeerks haven't set up biofilters, which I would bet they have.  In which case, you won't be able to enter as any creature except human.  So, you will be humans carrying sacks of oatmeal.  Yes, you will blend in _perfectly_ ," I said sarcastically.

"What if we dug a hole or something and dropped the oatmeal in?" Tobias asked.

Cassie picked it up.  "Yeah.  We could use moles or rabbits or -"

"Twenty feet straight down," I interrupted.  "Impractical and unsafe.  You would have to dig at an angle more than 100 feet to reach that distance, and if you miscalculated, you could drop right into the Pool, or you might never reach it.  Or you might face the other defenses a Yeerk pool can offer, hunter robots and patrols.  Remember that whatever you use for digging, it will be comparatively helpless.  You'll have to morph.  In the heart of Yeerk territory."

"It won't happen that way," Rachel said petulantly.

"But it is likely, given what your plans currently are.  So, no.  And that's final."

"How can we beat the Yeerks if you keep tossing out all of good ways?" Marco grumbled.

I shot him a look and my voice was cold.  "Feeding Yeerks addictive materials is _not_ a good way.  It is little higher than dumping a pool of captured hostless Yeerks into space or delivering a virus to eliminate the species, or cleansing the whole planet.  I have few morals left in this war, but I will be keeping what I do have, if it's all the same to you."

The children avoided my gaze, while Aximili seemed puzzled at my statement. 

"Now, unless you lot would like to help me finish cleaning, you might as well be on your way."

The kitchen was cleared in faster than usual, and I grinned to the emptiness as I went to the phone and dialed a familiar number.  "Hello.  Yes.  I'd like a delivery for one extra-large thick-crust pepperoni pizza, breadsticks, and an order of spicy buffalo wings, please."  After giving my address, I went to the living room, lay on couch, kicked my shoes off, and settled back for the wait.  There was nothing like a job well-done.

 ****

"Do you think ...," Loren started, and then stopped.

"Do I think, what?" I asked after a long pause, lifting my head to look at her.  Champ was demanding my attention, as his ears desperately needed a scratch.

"It's not that important," she said.

I cocked my head at her.  "Okay."

We were quiet for a longer moment, but I was distracted from it as the dog nosed for more pets and attention.  I made him go through simple commands - sit, play dead, that sort of thing - before rather foolishly congratulating him in a quiet voice. 

"Did the kids do anything fun?"

"I guess," I shrugged.  "I can't be with them all the time, after all.  But they usually drag Ax with them, if he'll allow it, that is.  They haven't complained of being bored, anyway."

Loren smiled.  "You must get sick of them being in your house all the time."

"N...noooo," I drawled out, thinking about the answer as I said it.

"You're not sure?" she laughed.

I thought about my answer.  "It's not that.  I enjoy being around people.  It's ... depressing to be alone in a big house.  Ax is out so often, it's ... nice.  But that doesn't mean I completely enjoy it when they stay over on weekends."  Usually, because there was a battle of some sort.  "They're very loud, and when they sleep in, they _sleep in_."

"What a crime!"

"They waste half a day in bed!  It is a crime."  Boys in one room, girls in the other, and I was lucky if any of them made it down by eleven.  Even if we got in late, it was ridiculous.  "Even when it's just one of them.  I could understand it if they slept in when there was a large group.  It can be difficult to sleep in the same room with others.  But even if it's just Tobias, nearly crack of noon."  I shook my head.  Even when I had been a human, except for extenuating circumstances, I did not sleep so late.

"Does he stay often?"

I blinked.  "Not ... often."  Not enough.  "But a few nights a week.  Sometimes I drop him off at school."

"That's nice," she said quietly.  "You don't mind?"

"No, of course not.  Someone has to."  And then my eyes widened and I kicked myself for my answer and making Loren wince.

"Yeah.  Someone." 

"I didn't mean -"

She gave a hollow laugh.  "I know you didn't.  You never do."

There was a touch of judgment in her statement, and it wasn't exactly a good judgment, if I heard it right.  As such, I wasn't sure how to respond.  It was a tricky slope.  While part of me was very nearly disgusted with Loren for not agreeing to at least meet our son - and only a little, because, even though we were not my home world, I could respect someone's _vecol_ status enough that I wouldn't force them to break solitude - part of me felt relieved she was too timid to do so.  Introducing Loren to the children and Aximili would only bring about complications I did not want.  The way they would react to what I was doing, how I acted ... I could at the least imagine Aximili's reaction - supreme disappointment and disgust.  It was one thing to befriend humans, another to woo them.  Especially since it wouldn't - couldn't go anywhere.  I would not stay on Earth again, not become a _nothlit_.  I was essentially stringing Loren along, but, even with the realization, I wouldn't - couldn't stop myself, even if my Andalite sensibilities cringed.  I opened my mouth.  "And should I?"

"Yes!  ... No."  Loren sighed and sank into the seat.

"Which is it?"

"Never mind."

"No.  Which is it?" I repeated.

Loren didn't answer, picking at her sleeve. 

"Loren, what is it?"

"Have you ever made a big mistake and you know should fix it, but you just ... don't?"

"More often than I'd like," I said ruefully.  "And sometimes you can't."

Her expression was pained.  "Yeah.  Sometimes."  Champ abandoned me to whimper against her, and she gave a little smile at his attempt.  "It's just ... I don't know."

"Maybe I could help," I offered.  "If you tell me about it."

She shook her head.  "I know what you'd say.  You've said it and I didn't listen.  And now look at it.  I should have listened.  Now it's probably too late."

This conversation was strange, and I didn't know what she was talking about.  "Umm ... what did I say?"

"Isn't it enough that you were right, as always, Alan?" Loren tried to laugh.

"Possibly.  But I like to know what I was right about."

"Maybe later."

She looked so sad that I didn't press.  "Okay.  I'll hold you to it.  But could you give me a hint, like when it was exactly that I was right or what happened?"

"What's happening," she said.

"What?"

"Yeah.  My thoughts exactly," she said.  "I should fix that."

Humans were too confusing and I said, hoping it was helpful, "Only if it's broken."

"And if it's too broken?"

I touched her hand.  "I think, even if it is, you still have to try.  One of those rules.  That way you know it really is broken."   I grinned.  "You know I'm right.  I always am."

Loren shook her head and smiled.  "Ass.  Remind me to never inflate your ego.  Because if it ever pops, there's going to be a really big mess to clean up."

"Isn't there?" I agreed.  "Whatever you need to do, you know I'll help you.  Whatever it is."

"I know that.  I just need ... time.  Even if I've had a lot already, I need more."

I squeezed her hand in a warning.  "Just pray you will always have it."

 ****

It is a Prince's job to care for the well-being of all of his _arisths_ , the mental and the physical. I liked to think I did a very good job in caring for all of those that served under me, though I probably did hover over the human children more than I had ever done for any Andalite _aristh_ , no matter how much I tried to stop myself. But that is natural. The children were not trained for this, were not prepared for all of the circumstances. They weren't raised in the Andalite culture and heritage. And they were young. So they needed my care. And so did Aximili, of course.

So, after a very troubling battle, I took Cassie aside. During my standard limb-count check on everyone, I had noticed her withdrawing after the battle, trembling. ‹Are you all right?›

She drew a shaky breath. ‹I ... I can't do this anymore.›

I wasn't surprised at her words. I had always considered Cassie the one most likely to balk. Despite her desire to save Earth, she had no true reason to stay in. Jake and Rachel had Tom, though even without Tom, Rachel would remain in the fight. Marco had his mother. Tobias craved the acceptance of the group, the friendship. ‹What happened?›

‹I killed that Hork-Bajir.›

I tilted my stalk at her, not understanding. Maybe if I had actually seen this particular death I would have, but even with four eyes I cannot watch every one and thing. ‹You have killed other Hork-Bajir.›

She didn't like the reminder. ‹I killed him, even after you said to leave. He was down, and I just ... I just attacked and ripped his throat out.› Her voice was laced with disgust.

‹Your form reacted - ›

‹No! I killed him!› Had she been human, I am sure there would have been tears in her eyes, and her tone was harsh. ‹I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I'm done.›

I sighed internally. Cassie was always prone to over-reaction. But maybe that wasn't fair. Even still, I said, ‹Do not be so bold.›

‹NO! I mean it!›

‹Let me finish,› I said coldly, upset at the interruption, but I calmed and tried to speak in a kinder tone. ‹I was going to say take a reprieve. A vacation.›

Cassie shook her head at me. ‹No, I'm not coming back. I can't. A ... a _vacation_ isn't going to make this better!›

‹I didn't say it would. If you quit this war, us, very well. I never expected any of you to actually manage the strain for forever. But if you quit, it will be over. No morphing. No needless risks that all of you take part in, which I pretend not to know about. You will be as Marco was.› I turned away from her. ‹Take your vacation, Cassie, and make your choice then.›

I saw her stand shaken before she left the group, ran away from my ultimatum and the others' gazes. The other children and Aximili were all looking at us, curious about the conversation. I had kept my side private, only for Cassie, but they could easily hear her side.

‹So what's with Cassie?› Marco asked.

‹It is a personal issue,› I said.

‹Is she's going to quit?› Rachel demanded. ‹That's what she said.›

‹We'll see.›

‹Elfangor -›

‹All of you, go home. If Cassie wishes to share, you must ask her.›

They all left, except Aximili, and I could hear them talking amongst themselves. Aximili was looking at me, curious. ‹Is Cassie all right?›

‹She is troubled.›

Aximili was an _aristh_ and understood the personal boundaries between a Prince and another _aristh_. Though he was obviously curious, he would not pry. ‹I hope she will be well.›

‹As do I.› And if she did leave our battles, I had no idea how to deal with the precedent she would be setting. _Arisths_ are not allowed to leave the war. But she was a human, and she could be the first. While I said I never expected the children would remain in the fight indefinitely, it did not negate the fact that I needed them, needed the help. ‹We should go home.›

‹Can we order a pizza?›

 ****

It took me two days to learn of Cassie's disappearance, though she probably had only been missing little less than a day. The children had told me, desperately worried. Cassie was lost, probably hurt, possibly taken. There was no reason for her to be missing for so long. She could morph and return. I didn't think she could have been taken, because each of us in turn would have been. But she could be hurt.

And there was a leopard loose ...

I forced myself not to worry, to be calm. Cassie was certain to be safe. Maybe she had taken my order not to morph to a ridiculous level.

We had to hunt for her. Even if she did leave the war, we would have searched her out. Cassie was our friend.

I was not prepared for her to become our enemy when Marco reported she was a Controller.

I ignored the children's voices, because whatever they said, one thing was clear - no matter how much it pained me, Cassie could not survive as a Controller. If it came to it, I _would_ have to kill her.

We had to demorph before we could search for her. Up in the air, we saw the search unit that was doing its duty ... and its duty apparently included shooting at us.

We were all birds of prey, protected species. No mere forest official would have dared to do it. They were Controllers. They knew to fire at us. They had been warned.

My stomach clenched at the harsh truth, the promise of what I would have to do. I ordered Tobias to continue to hunt for Cassie while the rest of us took care of these Controllers. They had heard thought-speak. It was a great risk.

It was a terrible moment when Rachel had been struck by a bullet and wounded beyond flight. Her cousin dove after her, tried to rescue her, and Aximili soon joined to help take on the weight. I dealt with the Controllers that still fired the shots. I had enough sense to register Aximili demorph and run with a still injured Rachel to safety.

A bird against humans, especially those with guns, does not give a promising fight, and I left as quickly as I could.

‹Elfangor, they found her,› Marco said grimly. ‹It's not good.›

‹It never is.›

‹No. You don't understand. It _really_ isn't good.›

I wanted to question, but as we approached, I banked at the sight my eyes saw, the spots.

‹The kitty's back,› Marco said.

‹Warn me when it is to attack or move. I'll demorph and take care of it.›

On the ground, I quickly got to my true form. I could hear a voice, a young human voice, the Controller, pleading with the other children. Saying Cassie had made a deal. I didn't want to hear the deal. With Marco guiding me, I approached the scene.

‹Elfangor, the Controller's running. And the leopard's leaping! We can let it kill her.›

I heard the scream and for a moment, I did contemplate the action. But no, if someone harmed one of my _arisths_ , I would have the pleasure of harming them back. Leaping into the scene, the leopard was over her, a small human child, teeth bared for her throat. I reacted instinctively, swiping by tail, blade out to the creature and sent it tumbling, dangerously wounded, perhaps even mortally.

My blade covered in the red blood, I stepped closer and looked down at the cowering Controller, eyes cold. Who knew if she was more afraid now than before? The leopard managed to get to his paws and staggered away.

"So what are you going to do with me, Prince Elfangor?" she asked, eyes wide and scared but trying for bravado. "Kill me like you've done to so many of my brothers?"

‹After what you did to Cassie, you deserve it!› Rachel yelled.

‹What happened to Cassie?› I asked, tone cold.

‹She made her turn into a caterpillar! She's trapped in morph!› Rachel raged.

My own anger rippled through me, and the child-Controller certainly saw. It was only with the most supreme effort that I regained myself. ‹Why?›

"We made a deal," the Controller said. "If she would live the life that awaits me - a life without sight, pleasure, sound - I would do what she asked. I'd let go of this host, never take another one. Make what small peace I could."

‹Fat chance you'll do that!›

I stared down at her and my tail twitched again. The girl flinched. ‹Why should I believe you?›

She sneered even in her fear. "Why should the great Beast believe a yeerk? You Andalites look down on us, crush us. Hate and contempt us. But Cassie didn't."

‹And see how you repay her,› I snapped harshly.

For a moment, the Controller was repentant. "I tried to tell her to come back, I did."

‹Don't listen to her, Elfangor! She'll say anything to get away! You can't trust her.›

A moment hung in the balance. Anger was rolling in me. I wanted to harm this Controller beyond words, but I couldn't. The human host was a young child, and Andalites did not harm the young. Even in our ancient wars, the children were always spared. But it wasn't just that. Cassie made a deal. A promise. A stupid, foolish one, yes. She gave her life for it.

A wiser Andalite would have killed the Controller. I snapped my tail so hard it cracked like a whip and the Controller flinched under me, but her eyes widened when I stepped away. "... You're not ...?"

‹Cassie is a stupid fool, and I, a greater one, but I will honor her deal with you.›

Rachel roared at me, and the others were shocked, even Aximili.

The girl tried pushing herself up. She was injured, I just noticed. The confusion was written on her young face.

‹Make no mistake, Yeerk, if you do falter in any part, _nothing_ will save you from my wrath,› I swore darkly. ‹Nothing.›

‹Elfangor, you're trusting her?› Marco demanded.

‹Cassie did,› Tobias replied.

I kept looking at the cowering Controller. ‹Cassie took a risk. One I cannot condone. But I cannot ignore it, either.› I walked and picked up Cassie, in her little cocoon, gently. A terrible form to be trapped in ... until she would transform into a butterfly. At the knowledge, I gave a little smile of relief. ‹A caterpillar. Even in the form, to live as a Yeerk, you chose stupidly.›

"What?"

‹A caterpillar becomes a butterfly, in time. A short life, but a merry one.›

"I didn't ... Karen didn't know that," the Controller whispered. "I did try to get her to come back."

‹Keep your deal with her. I want nothing more do to with you.›

‹We can't just let her go!› Rachel screeched.

‹That is precisely what we are going to do,› I said evenly.

We left the Controller, still wounded. She wasn't my concern anymore, though she still was. Rachel, crying, demanded to keep Cassie safe.

‹She will be fine, Rachel,› I said.

"How can you say that?" she cried back. "She's trapped, a stupid bug, forever! For a Yeerk."

‹Only for a few weeks. Then she'll be fine.›

"What are you talking about, Elfangor?" Jake asked.

‹Caterpillars change into butterflies. Genes are turned on and off. A natural alteration in DNA. The morphing will reset itself.›

‹Natural morphing?› Aximili said.

"You knew that?" Marco said. "And you still let her go? We're in deep shit if that parasite doesn't obey their ‘deal,'" he sneered, making the air quotes.

‹Cassie was not the only missing child on the news. A young Karen is also missing. I know the address.›

"So you _are_ going to kill her?" Tobias asked quietly.

‹Time will tell.›

 ****

We put Cassie in my garden, where I could watch her. And I spent time watching a young Karen with her father. There was nothing to hint at trouble, though I was slightly disconcerted to see the small Controller wave at me with the wide smile. I had to fly away soon afterwards.

I also visited Cassie's parents. They were frantic, heart-broken, and I hoped the brownies I gave them offered them a little comfort. But the days were adding up, three days since she had disappeared. They were understandably upset.

"I am sure she will be fine," I said kindly. "Soon she will be back, helping you in the Clinic."

I must have said something wrong, because her father looked pained. And so did her mother.

"Did I -"

Cassie's mother tried to smile. "It's just ... we lost the funding for the Clinic. Cassie was so upset. And now this."

"She loves the Clinic," her father whispered. "All the animals."

I was shocked. Cassie hadn't told me this. "When did this happen? I thought ... Cassie never said anything to my brother."

Her father played with the brownie. "We told her the night before ... before."

"How long can you keep it open with the money you have now?" I asked carefully.

"Maybe enough until these animals are healed up. If we're lucky. But people keep bringing more in and soon we'll have to -" He trailed off. "Cassie was so sad."

Yes, she would be. I looked down, figuring out the math. "Perhaps I could help. The company I work for, _Forlay_ , is always interested in donating money. For the tax breaks." I tried to smile. "I could speak with them. How much do you think you need?"

"We couldn't ask you to do that," Cassie's mother said, surprised.

"Cassie is my brother's friend, and mine as well. She loves the Clinic. I can't make any promises, but I can at least ask."

"You'd do that, just because of our Cassie?"

"Your daughter is a very remarkable girl," I smiled. "How much?"

They gave me a number, probably the lowest estimate, and maybe just to humor me. But it was something I could easily cover. The Clinic had to stay open, not only because it gave Cassie a peace of mind or because it cared for injured animals, but because it was a source of morphs.

"I'll speak with my bosses. And don't worry. Cassie's all right. She's a survivor. I know it."

 ****

When Cassie emerged - terribly early, according to my resources - I managed to catch her and coax her back to her true form. She was shocked, surprised, and I carefully guided her into the kitchen, sat her down, and gave her some cocoa.

"How ..."

"Think about it as a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly," I said as I sat across from her. "Are you all right?"

She took a sip, nodded. Then her eyes widened. "My parents!"

"Are worried sick about you, but they are fine."

"They are?"

I nodded. "I am relieved you are okay, Cassie, but I am going to say this very calmly and clearly - _never_ do that again."

"I don't plan on becoming a caterpillar any time soon," she shuddered.

"No. _Never_ made such a risky venture."

She shrank. "Is Karen ... did she ...?"

"I don't know if she did abide by your deal, but what you did was stupid and careless and put all of us in jeopardy!"

"I know, but I had to try."

I frowned at her. "You don't even realize the depth of your stupidity."

Cassie jerked. "Just because Aftran is a Yeerk doesn't mean she's not trustworthy!"

"Listen and listen very carefully, Cassie. Two beings learned the truth about us - the Yeerk and the human. _If_ , and it is a big if, the Yeerk left the human, do you think young Karen may never risk becoming a Controller again? A week, a year, a decade from now, if that girl is taken, she will _still_ know the truth!"

Her eyes widened at the reality.

"The next Yeerk in the girl's head may not be so noble as Aftran. And _we will be unprepared!_ "

"I ... I never thought ..."

"I know," I said coldly. "You never think. None of you children do."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, looking down at the warm liquid.

"What I should have done was killed both of them when I had the chance, instead of honoring your venture. Now I must make sure Karen remains relatively safe, if she is even safe now.

"You got lucky, Cassie. Warriors live by luck, I'll admit it. But do not push it! You took a risk, a gamble. Maybe it will pay off. Pray that it will. But do not do it again." I voiced the order firmly.

"I just wanted there to be another way," she whispered. "Not all of the Yeerks want to fight."

I snorted. "Of course not. Do you think all Andalites do? All humans? All Taxxons? It is only the most ruthless that become Vissers."

"But then there's got to be something we can do!"

"You have done enough. Maybe you have even started something. Most likely, though, no."

Cassie frowned. "Aftran could have left Karen. She could have."

"Or she could have not." I sighed and stood up. "Go home, Cassie. Your parents miss you."

****

Cassie returned a few days later. "I saw her. Karen. She's free. Aftran kept her promise." There was something vindictive about her tone, as if she was proving something by telling me this.

"So she says." Never trust a possible Controller, at least not until after three days. But part of me did hope.

She frowned at me. "Karen said she saw you from her window. Or she saw a bird. It was you, though, wasn't it? She waved at you."

I didn't answer, standing up to dig into a drawer for the folder.

"Aftran said Seerow was a good Andalite."

I turned and looked at Cassie, curious. Why would they have spoken about Prince Seerow? "I beg your pardon?"

"She said he was a good Andalite."

"I never said he wasn't." He merely had the bad luck to deal with Yeerks.

"Karen said Aftran thought you were a good Andalite, too."

"Any Andalite that wouldn't kill her is probably a good Andalite in her book," I said. Internally, I did not like the comparison. I may have some respect for Prince Seerow and what he tried to do, but I had no desire to become him - another lesson for Andalites, another one to curse. Ironic, because it was likely in my future.

Cassie shrugged and tried to smile. "She still said it. You did a good thing, too, by taking a risk."

I shook my head and handed her a folder. "Here, give this to your parents."

"What is it?" she said, even as she opened her. Her eyes went wide at the official documents, at the large check endorsed by _Forlay_. "This ... this is ... wow."

"Your parents told me about the Clinic losing funding."

"Karen told her father, too. But this ... my parents are going to flip." She looked up at me, eyes shining, before rushing to hug me. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

I smiled and hugged her back a bit awkwardly. "There is also an account. Your parents will have to go to the bank to fill out the proper paperwork to get at the funds. Annually, there should be a deposit of 20,000 dollars without any intervention on their parts, provided the market stays fair."

"Thank you," she whispered again.

"It is merely a Prince's job to care for his _arisths_. Besides, we need that Clinic of yours. Now, dry your eyes, go home." I paused, growing unsure. "Cassie, please stop hugging me."

She giggled.

 ****

The children were speaking.  This was not such an unusual occurrence as to draw my attention.  The children spoke often, some more than others.  Cassie spoke of the animals under her care.  Rachel, about her sisters and mother at what must be, I hypothesized, that stage in human independence when her respect for the latter was in ebb.  Jake spoke about sports and the fight against the Yeerks, about his brother.  Tobias, though quiet, relished any conversation, so long as it wasn’t too personal.  Marco, as his wont, spoke the most, about girls and things he found in annoyance, which were always plentiful.  I remembered listening to him complain about a new student at the school, David, incessantly a few days ago.  Even Aximili had warmed up to the humans, though in an Andalite-fashion, mocking of the technology but in a generally kind-hearted manner. 

So, yes, I expected noise in my home.  However, this was beyond my tolerance.

“What is the problem in here?” I yelled, hands on my hips.  Their silence was instantaneous, eyes wide on my arrival.  I was not a yeller, at least not as a human.  As an Andalite, I had done more than my share of raising the general thought-speak volume. “Well?”

“We – that is, the humans, were … discussing various maximums and minimums of various aspects of their culture, Elfangor,” Aximili said, breaking the silence with deference.

I glared at him.  “Do not think I didn’t not hear your voice among the din, Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.  Now what is this conversation about?  And it had better be good.”  Of course, by this time, my anger was abating and my humor returning.

“We were trying to decide best and worst,” Tobias said. 

“As I said,” Aximili hissed.

“About what?” I said.

They looked at each other.  There was slight embarrassment.

“Well, there was sports,” Jake said slowly.

Marco went next.  “And video games. And girls.”

“And guys,” Rachel added.

“Foods,” Aximili put in.

“Movies and music,” Tobias said.

Cassie suggested, “Animals.”

The list continued to grow until I had to interrupt them.  “You were arguing these all at the same time?” I sighed.  Teenagers.  “Just … keep the volume down, if you would.”

“Well, what do you think?” Marco asked before I could leave.

“Think of what?”

They grinned at each other, even Aximili.  I felt suspicious.  “Of Earth,” Rachel explained.

“What do you think is the best and worst of everything?”

“I have hardly experienced everything,” I pointed out.

Cassie grinned.  “Well, what do you like now?  We’ve already asked Ax.  He’s given us his top fifty favorite foods.”

My gaze fell on Aximili, who looked embarrassed.  “Indeed.”

“Come on, spill.  You’ve been on Earth over a year.  You have to have some favorites about our little back-water planet by now,” Marco said sarcastically, but smiling.

“Must I, now?”

Jake butted in.  “Yeah.  Sides, we’re supposed to be relaxing, as you said.  You’ve been here a year, as Marco said, and we hardly know anything about you.  Except that you can cook.”

“Very well,” Cassie added.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed.  They were children.  Andalite warriors would not ask for such familiarity with their Prince.  “My likes and dislikes about Earth are immaterial.  I learn enough to blend in nearly flawlessly.”

“And you do do a good job there,” Jake agreed.

“But, Elfangor, you have got to be the biggest stick-in-the-mud ever.  You’re like a millionaire and you do nothing with it.”  Marco expanded his hands, motioning to the home.  “Even Ax does things for fun now.”

I smiled, privately reminiscing about the fun things I engaged in.  Private adult things as well as the simple, childish ones with Loren.  A few nights ago I had taken her for cheeseburgers and fries through the drive-in – I would have taken her for a true romantic dinner, but Loren said she wasn’t comfortable eating in public.  We had eaten them in the car, feeding most to Champ, and then got sundaes at the local Dairy Queen, which we ate along the beach.  “I do things for fun.”

“Such as?”

“Are you entitled to know my activities?  I find no such necessity in my knowing yours.”  Despite my words, my tone was light. 

“Spill.  Otherwise we’ll all morph and force you to,” Rachel threatened.

I laughed.  “Best you hope I don’t have a morph to put yours all to shame.”

“You would have used it, if you had,” Jake pointed out.

I shook my head.  “No.  I prefer my morphs to be something that can blend in.  So you do not exactly what I have.  And unlike other Andalite warriors, I make a point to acquire morphs.”  Key word was _acquire_.  I rarely, if ever, used them, and honestly cannot recall everything I had acquired over my tenure.  But they didn’t need to know that.

“Elfangor, are you bluffing us?” Cassie asked.

“He does have a good poker face,” Tobias agreed.  “Ax-man, what do you think?”

I raised a brow at my brother.  “I am uncertain,” Aximili said, wisely.

“Well, no matter what morph you have, you won’t kill us,” Rachel said.  “And we out-number you.”

“I have faced worse odds.”  I looked at them all intently.  Then grinned.  “However, because I feel like sharing, I have found that my favorite trees are the giant sequoias.  I enjoy Dr. Pepper.  I find Yosemite National Park especially beautiful and memorable.  The song _Satisfaction_ , by the Rolling Stones, I hold dear.  As well as yellow Mustang convertibles.  The dates September 15th and May 31st.”

“September 15th and May 31st?” Jake repeated.

I smiled enigmatically.  The day I proposed and my wedding.  But that was my secret.

“Are you pulling our legs?” Marco asked. 

With a little bow, I said, “I swear upon my honor I have not lied.” 

“How come you can cook so well?” Cassie asked before I could leave.  “Even when you first got here, you could.  You knew what everything meant, how to work everything.”

“I can assemble subspace generators in my sleep.  French soufflés are no comparison.”  No. They were harder. “You merely follow the recipe.”  And go through three months of fallen or burned failures.  “Besides, never underestimate the powers of an Andalite when there’s food on the line.”

The children laughed, but I could see they really did not completely believe my reasoning.  They, all of them, had made comments about my seamless integration into human society.  They were suspicious.  But I was not ready or willing to share my past with them.  I was not ashamed of it, worried of what they would think of me.  I was beyond the desire for human children’s opinions.  I worried for Aximili’s, of course, but it was not what made me keep counsel.

This was war.  We all carry our secret burdens.  This was mine.  The children, with theirs, it was not necessary for them to keep them hidden.  But I was the leader, the Prince.  It was best if I was untouched.

And some things are too precious to share.

 ****

Loren laughed into my shoulder, having stepped on my foot again.  “I’m sorry.  I’m just hopeless at this.”

I grinned, twirling her.  “Nonsense.  You are out of practice.”  I took her hand and moved to the soft music.  “And my feet will survive.  They have survived worse.”

“You’ve had worse dance partners than me?”

“I’ve been worse.”

“Really?”

I spun us.  “Oh, yes, indubitably.  In fact, I was pronounced quite hopeless.  And now look at me.”

“A regular Don Juan.”

“A seducer?” I gasped and dipped her low.  “You cut me to the quick, Loren.”

She laughed, her hands on my shoulders.  “Don’t drop me!”

“Never.”

We danced until the end of the song, when Loren claimed she could take no more of my torture.  I kept the music on and we curled up on the couch.  Champ joined us, lying across Loren’s lap like the over-grown pup he was.  I nuzzled her neck and we were content to sit in silence.

“Alan?”

“Hmmm?”

“How did we meet?”

I sighed and set my chin on her shoulder, thinking.  “When we first met, you were stranded in the middle of nowhere with an utter jerk, not by your choosing.  I had to give you a lift to your home.  We got a little side-tracked, as road trips are wont to do, and when I stuck around, we become friends.”  Yes, the complete truth hidden in an utter lie.  Sometimes these hurt.

“So you didn’t orchastrate bumping into me then?” she teased.

“No.  But I would have.”

****


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David was in the Last Chapter, or, This is Not the New Animorph (Because Animorphs are "Teenagers with a Death Wish")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covering up to Book 22 or 23, depending on your perspective, I suppose.

The Chee spoke plainly.  “The Yeerks aren’t interested in you.”

“Then why are they spending so much energy pressuring him?” Jake asked.

‹I’m new to the area.  I’m a master in quantum physics,› I said plainly.  And, honestly, almost as soon as I confronted Tom, the apparent interest had died down.  That had been over a month ago, but I hadn’t been sure if it was because they had ceased being interested in me or were being more covert about it.  It was a relief to know it was the former.

Erek nodded.  “Yeah.  Simple as that.  Don’t get me wrong; they were suspicious, and they still are, but you’ve created a good cover.  Very good, even by Chee standards.”  I inclined my head.  “They went back years, back to grade school.”

“You went that far?” Cassie voiced, surprised.

“The point is, on the surface, it’s all good.  Don’t get me wrong.  The house you grew up in is a post office, but the Yeerks aren’t going to dig that deeply.  They certainly aren’t thinking you’re an Andalite in hiding.”

“That’s good,” Tobias said.

“But they’re still keeping half an eye on you,” Erek warned.  “They certainly think you would be useful, but you’re currently not worth the effort.”

“Which is bad,” Jake said.  “Not that you’re not worth the effort, I mean, but they still could want you.”

“Well, I’m sure we’re all happy to know our favorite endangered species isn’t as in danger as you made it sound over the phone,” Marco said dryly.

“Oh, it’s just a little something that’s being kept secret, for security reasons,” Erek smiled.

‹We should feel relieved you are on our side, if you are this poor at keeping secrets,› I said dryly.

“The Chee, gossips of the water cooler,” Rachel laughed. 

“Talking about the metal surgery Betty had,” Marco put in, “and how totally fake it looks.”

“Who beat who in the inter-office dog show,” Jake smiled.

“The best place to put on the dog,” Cassie grinned.

‹That sounds cruel,› my brother disapproved.  ‹To wear a canine.›

“It’s an expression, Ax,” Tobias explained.

I rolled my stalk eyes and caught Erek’s look as the poor jokes continued.  We both agreed – children.  ‹If you’re done …›

“Just one more, please?” Marco begged.

“It really isn’t anything much,” Erek said.  “It’s just a little summit meeting.  Here in town.  Where the leaders of the United States, Russia, Japan, Germany, Britain, and France will gather to talk about the problems in the Middle East.”

“So?” Rachel said blithely.

Thankfully all of the children weren’t so blind.  By the way Marco’s mouth snapped shut and Jake’s face turned serious, they caught it.  And Cassie voiced it.  “All those leaders, coming here where the Yeerks are the stongest?”

“The Yeerks are going to do something, aren’t they?” Jake asked.

Erek nodded.  “There’s a plan under way.  We know the leaders will be arriving the day after tomorrow and are booked at the Marriott resort on the coast.”

“If that’s going to happen, could we somehow expose the Yeerks?” Tobias asked.

“Or the Yeerks make all of them Controllers and we’re totally screwed,” Marco countered.

“One problem with that,” Erek said.

‹Just _one_?  I’m impressed.  I could think of a few more.›

The android grinned.  “Yes, there are a few more, but this one’s pretty big.  Huge, actually.  One of the leaders is already a Controller.”

“Which one?” Tobias asked.

“If we knew that, you wouldn’t have a huge problem.”

‹Did the Pemalites program you with that mouth, or did you write it yourself?›

Erek laughed.  “Don’t kill the messanger, Prince Elfangor.”

“Not that Elfangor could, you being an indestructible million-year-old android from outer space,” Marco commented.

‹But my brother could harm his tail if he tried,› my brother commented dryly. 

“I thought he’d use his laser-death glare of disapproval,” Jake said.

Marco nodded.  “Ah, that.  It has killed me many atime.  And then he orders me back to life so I can go get myself killed.”

“A smarter guy would have figured out you were pissing him off,” Rachel said.  “But, no, you’re an idiot.  We’re only sad he keeps letting you come back and we have to listen to your lame jokes.”

‹Children,› I said sternly, trying not to smile.

“I think it’s set on low-level.  We’re safe,” Tobias whispered to Cassie, who ducked her head to hide her smile.

The children, Aximili, and the Chee were all amused, as was I.  But it was time for business.  ‹I suppose you’ll have to live, for now.  Is there anything else?›

Erek seemed to think.  “I do have some gossip.  It’s actually low-key.  The Visser’s looking for a human, or one possibly has already attracted his attention.”

‹Why?› Aximili asked, while the children made comments about the unluckiness of attracting anything of Visser Three’s.

“We haven’t been able to determine why yet.  But I can say for certain that he was very amused when he came back from his latest meeting.”

‹What was the meeting he was at on?› I asked.

“It was for _The Sharing_.  Business as usual.  Speaking with business men at meetings.  They’re planning some computer scheme, we confident about that.”

‹And when were you going to tell me _that_?› I asked, suspicious.

Erek smiled.  “It’s been in the works for a very long time, especially since they got the Pemalite crystal.  But now they’re trying to support a company instead of taking it over.  Several of us believe they are actually using it as a cover to get an unlimited supply of computers, hardware, and the rest of the materials.”

‹Primitive human computers?› Aximili said, surprised.  ‹For what use could they need for such inferior materials?›

“The Yeerks don’t need sophisticated equiptment everywhere,” Erek explained. 

“And wouldn’t it let them keep the really important things where they need them?” Cassie asked.

He nodded.  “In any case, it did not seem necessary to inform you, Prince Elfangor.  I apologize if I was in error.”

‹Pay it no mind.  Perhaps that is the reason they paid attention to me, if they are interested in this field.  Only now another is better.›

“Possibly.”

“So this person Visser Three is looking for, does he have someone, or is he still looking?” Rachel asked, eyes narrowed.

“That I cannot tell you, but I’m inclined to think he has a human in mind already.”

“So he obviously met someone at these meetings that can help him with his grand take-over-the-world scheme?  And now we have to save this guy from having a permanent live-in house-guest?  Another day in the life,” Rachel said.

“Except we don’t know who this person is,” Jake added.

‹Are you not jumping to conclusions?  Erek merely said that the human attracted Visser Three’s attention, not that he was going to be infested,› Aximili said.  ‹He could merely be used as a tool.›

“Well, attracting Visser Three’s attention or amusement is not exactly good for a nice long life,” Cassie said.

‹Are you aware of any other impeding plans?› I asked Erek, thinking. 

“Aside from the summit, no.”

“Well, we have to take care of that first, anyway.  The presidents are more important than some guy who’s going to install their computers,” Tobias said.

“Unless he’s giving them a sneak peak and hooking up that wicked fast internet connection they’re coming out with.  My dad told me about it.  In a year to two, we can say good-bye to dial-up.  Everything loaded up like that,” Marco said, snapping his fingers.

‹Still that slow?› Aximili asked.

The children laughed.

‹Thank you for the information, Erek,› I said.  A summit.  This meant constant surveillance, especially with one of the officials aready a Controller.  It meant I had to stop visiting Loren until this was settled, because I had to always be available.  Well, the quicker this was solved, the quicker I could visit.  ‹We’ll start immediately.›

“Do you know what the meeting Visser Three went to was about?” Jake asked.

“Business, but for Visser Three, it basically was the usual towering-to-incite-terror.  He thinks it gives him better results.”

“I can see the motivation.”

Erek continued speaking, promising he’d try and found out more information.  The voices were background noise as I thought.  We’ll have to protect the leaders, and then, if possible, this additional human.  Fight Yeerks.  Another day in the life.

 ****

We disrupted the summit meeting easily enough.  The press got a leak from an “anonymous” source about the gathering.  With the chaos the unexpected reporters brought, even more information got out.  Humans are naturally nosy, and reporters have honed the skill.  Eavesdropping on them saved us a lot of trouble in learning exactly _when_ the meeting was and where everyone was housed during the night. And, when necessary, we had a nice mob to blend in with.

With the extra annoyances, cracks appeared in the Yeerks carefully thought out plan.  It was Jake that pointed out that their plan was centered around _this_ hotel. 

At that realization, it was also clear arson was easy to accomplish.  We tried to keep the flames centered in areas where the humans weren’t or shouldn’t be at night, made enough of a racket to warn bystanders.  I won’t say no one was hurt or hospitalized, but it was better that than to be a Controller.

The only problem was I told Loren I would be away for a week. Despite how much I didn’t like it, I decided it was better to stick with the original plan.  I visited the freed Hork-Bajir to see how they were faring.  Ket Halpak was getting large with her child, unable to climb the trees as well as she used to be able to.  There was a small nest up in the trees, and she seemed content to rest there while Jara Hamee gathered the necessary bark.

“ _Kawatnoj_ come soon,” he said proudly.

‹Yes.  Do you know exactly when?› I asked patiently.

“Soon,” he repeated.

Ket Halpak had a more profound answer.  “ _Kawatnoj_ come when _kawatnoj_ come.”

‹Children do have a mind of their own, don’t they?›

My statement did not need an answer, and I let the Hork-Bajir continue their nesting.  I did offer to help strip some bark, but after a few tries, Jara Hamee told me, apologetically, I was doing it all wrong.  The bark was good, of course, but Ket Halpak shouldn’t eat it.  Unable to see exactly _what_ the Hork-Bajir wanted in the bark, I bowed out and walked around the valley before climbing to the summit of one of the ridges with my cell phone.  Once there, I morphed human and settled down to call the familiar number, sitting on the edge.

I was disappointed when I got her machine, but when I made my introductions, Loren quickly answered, breathless.  “Hey.”

“Hello.  How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.  What are you doing, calling me so early in the day?”

“Early?  It is coming on noon!”

She laughed.  “You don’t call this early, though.  You must be bored.”

“I don’t have to be bored to call you.”

“But it helps.  How is it?”

“It’s lovely here,” I said into the phone receiver.  And I wasn’t lying.  It was beautiful, with a full view of the surrounding area.  “Wish you were here.”

“Wish I was there,” Loren said pertly.  “But I meant, how is everything?  For your friend.”

“Better than expected.  False alarm, really.”  I shrugged and told her my lie, then quickly changed the topic.  “So how are you?”

There was an exasperated sigh.  “Alan, I _can_ survive a week without you.”

Doubt colored my voice, more playful than actual worry, but the worry was true.  “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, all right, I’ll lose the ten pounds you’ve managed to put on me, but I’ll live.”

“So you’re going to starve?”  That was almost a fate worse than death, to my Andalite-who-had-experienced-human-cuisine mind.

“Alan!  I’ve managed years without you, you know.”

I smiled sadly. ”All right, all right, I’m backing off.  Do anything fun?”

We spoke about whatever topic encroached upon our brains.  However, all good things must come to an end, and I was forced to listen to a dial tone.  With a sigh my thumb hit the talk button and I sat, dejected, my legs dangling over the edge of a sudden drop.

 ****

Aximili and I arrived last to Cassie’s barn by flight.  The Chee Erek had news.  I had been in the middle of my very important Loren call to let her know I was back – unfortunately, I had gotten her machine – when the other line on the cell made itself known.  I bid good-bye and clicked over to the other line.  Call waiting was a terrible invention.

“Alan Fangor speaking.”

“Hey, Mr. Fangor.  Is Ax there?”  Cassie’s voice.

“He’s outside.  Want me to go get him?”

“No, no.  Just tell him that Erek found about the answer to that bit of trivia we were arguing about a few days ago.”

“I see.”  I gave a weak chuckle.  “You kids and trivia pursuit.  Playing another game soon?”

“This afternoon, actually.  At my place.  Erek said he’s going to whip our butts.”

“I’ll tell Ax.  I’m sure he’ll want to defend his title as Mr. Know-it-all.”

“Thanks.  Bye.”

So I had to find Aximili and we flew to Cassie’s.  I could have driven there, but I wasn’t in the mood.  Besides, then her parents might question its presence.  Therefore, we flew and perched up in the rafters.

Jake asked, “That you, guys?”

“Gee, Jake, how many hawks do you know that just fly in and land as nice as you please?” Rachel said.

‹It is us,› Aximili said while I stared at the Chee. 

“Erek has news about our mysterious guy who’s attracted Visser Three’s attention,” Marco said.

“Woman,” Erek corrected. 

“So he’s looking to enter the dating pool?” Marco asked after a moment of stunned silence. 

Erek shook his head.  “Not unless his idea of a date is kidnapping and feeding her dog to the Taxxons.”  Cassie gasped.  “Not that the Chee let that happen.  Her dog is in the underground park.”

“Got to save Fido, huh?”

Erek continued.  “According the Visser, we’re looking at a piece of history.  He says she was the first human-Controller.”

The children all started asking questions, but I was frozen on my perch.  And the Chee was staring at me.  The Chee knew.  Not everything, of course.  But he knew enough.  And he was going to deliver the blow.

“And he thinks she’ll be a perfect bait for you, Prince Elfangor.”

They all stared at me.  I was glad I was in my hawk morph.  I gave nothing away.

‹What is he saying, Elfangor?› Aximili asked me.

I knew Visser Three couldn’t have thought me to be with Loren as a human.  He would have laid a trap, sprung it when I visited. No. He expected me as an Andalite to rescue her.

That’s why Loren wasn’t home when I called.

‹I’d hate to disappoint the Visser,› I said coldly.

“It is a trap,” Erek said, rather needlessly.  After all, I wasn’t a complete idiot.  “He was terribly angry after you foiled the plan at the summit.”

“Who is this person?” Jake asked.

Since I didn’t answer, Erek did.  “Her name is Loren -----.  She’s a blind woman from the ghetto area of town.  She was in a car accident almost twelve years ago and lost her sight and, according to her records, her memory.”

“She has amnesia?” Tobias said quietly.  I think it was then everyone clicked on her last name.

“You mean she’s your …” Rachel started.  Tobias shrugged.  Everyone looked uncomfortable, especially Marco.

‹She is,› I said, forcing dispassion.  ‹I’ve checked the records.›

“You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” Tobias said, sounding betrayed.

‹It is not my place.  As to Loren, yes, she was the first human-Controller, years before the Yeerk invasion on Earth started.  Twenty-one years ago, when she was your age.›

“What happened?” Jake asked.

‹Skrit Na kidnapped her and another human.  It was my job to return them to Earth.›

‹The mission before you disappeared for those years!› Aximili said, almost excitedly.  I never told him about that mission, so he naturally expected it to have been great.  ‹Your big mission!›

I chuckled darkly.  ‹Hardly a big mission.  I’m walking into this trap one way or another.  Visser Three’s probably been waiting for this day for years.  He’ll torture her and he’ll kill her.›

“Why?”

‹You are not the first human children to give the Visser Three problems.›

“My mom?”

‹Tell me the details,› I ordered the Chee.  I covered my nervousness, my worry.  I knew things were coming to an end.

 ****

‹I knew you would come and try to save your pet human, Elfangor,› Visser Three chuckled as I stood poised and completely surrounded by Dracon beams.  I saw my Loren, beaten and bloody, lying in a cage.  I thought she was unconscious until she pushed herself up.

‹Let her go, Yeerk.  This is between you and me.›  It always was.

The Visser ignored me.  ‹A pity what happened to your pet.  It would have been delightful to reinfest her.  The touch of history.  But I wouldn’t waste the Yeerk on a cripple like her.›

‹But the trouble for torture isn’t too much for a creature who doesn’t even remember you?› I asked.

‹I remember.  And you remember.  You were fond of this creature.  I remember it; my host does.  We are both surprised you did wipe her memory.›

A dig, bringing Prince Alloran into the conversation.  I didn’t let it phase me.

‹And yet here you are, trying to save her?  She was easy to find.  Did you hunt her out, I wonder?  You must have, curious about your favorite pet.  You’re here, after all.›  Then he looked at me speculatively, mockingly.  ‹Have you told your fellow warriors about that fateful mission?  Tell me, whatever happened to it?›

‹It?› I repeated sarcastically.

‹Perhaps a trade could be made.›

‹Never.  Even if I wanted to, never.  By now, it has been crushed to the size of an atom.  You’ll never see it again.›  A lie.  But I had to.  The temptation otherwise was too great.

It was not a lie Visser Three wanted to hear.  ‹You always were an idealistic fool,› he sneered.  ‹The greatest weapon in the universe, and you destroy it.›

I gave a mocking bow.  ‹One of my greatest accomplishments.›

‹Tempered with your greatest blunders.  Not that I’m complaining.›

Another dig.  It didn’t matter.  He just had to keep talking while the children got in place.  No doubt they already were.  No doubt they were already moving.  No doubt they were questioning the Yeerk’s words.  Everything was falling apart.

But I would not give Loren’s life in exchange for my secrets.  They were not that precious, and nor was my life.

 ****

I remained, on the surface, unattached, a façade perfected by my years in the military.  The rescue mission had not gone without a hitch.  I myself had been shot several times and, if I hadn’t kept my few wits about me, I would have died.  It was only by morphing a Tew-ei, an exceptionally small creature with a strong protective covering when it rolled into a ball, like the Earth armadillo, that I survived.  The morph was from a planet where thermal jets constantly spewed steam and lava.  Dracon blasts did harm the creature, but several were needed, and it was a quick creature.  My tail blade had nearly been broken trying to subdue the creature so I could acquire it.  I had not wanted to harm it, of course, but it was the only thing that worked.  And, honestly, it had not worked that well.  The Tew-ei, having grown used to my strikes and, probably thinking it was the usual hazards of the planet, had uncurled on its own and merely started walking away.

An annoying creature to acquire, but useful to have.  Especially when Dracon fire is happening around you.

We were now at the King residence.  While my residence might have suited, I knew little about caring for humans so wounded.  A blast had caught her in the side and the “parents” and Erek had taken the wounded and unconscious Loren away to tend to her.  Even if the Chee were not doctors, they at least have the benefit of that knowledge and could give Loren unending care.  If necessary, they could hide her in their underground park, and they had Champ.  There were many reasons for her to be here. 

And they _were_ all very important reasons.  If I though a few other reasons were missing, they did not out-weigh the benefit.

Now the children, Aximili, and I were waiting for the prognosis, and I was ignoring their questioning glances.

“What was he taking about, Elfangor?” Jake finally asked.  “What weapon?”

I turned my stalk eyes to them.  ‹The _Time Matrix_.›

‹Impossible!  That’s just a story!› Aximili countered with a bit of a laugh.

‹Like Ellimists?› I spat bitterly, and he silenced.  He caught my meaning.  If an Ellimist exists, why not their inventions?

“All right, what is a _Time Matrix_?” Rachel demanded.

‹The ultimate weapon,› Aximili said.  ‹A time machine.  And you destroyed it?›  There was awe in his voice.

“Okay, question.  Why is a time machine the ultimate weapon?” Marco demanded.

“Because you could go back in time, make something never happen,” Cassie explained.  “There could be no assassination of JFK.”

“No Hitler,” Tobias added.  “You could stop wars before they start.”

“Like in the movies, _Back to the Future_ ,” Jake said.

“Oh, yeah, get the winners in the future and come back and bet on them,” Marco said.

Rachel frowned.  “Don’t you remember what happened?  Michael J. Fox almost didn’t exist!  You could make another person not exist, never be.  We could go and crush the slug that would be Visser Three.”

‹And then what?› I demanded.  ‹Time is not a game; it is not cause and effect.  It is a ripple.  You change one thing, an infinite number of things could happen.  Go back and stop the slave trade?  Then what happens?  How does that influence the Civil War? The wars after that?  How does it affect each of us?  Would Cassie still be in the United States?  Would Marco’s mother have been allowed to immigrate?  Would there be a Cassie and Marco? Go back and destroy Visser Three?  Then who, what becomes Visser Three?  What happens on the Hork-Bajir homeworld, the Gedd rebellion, incursions Visser Three assisted personally?  What happens?  Is there no war?  Then there’s no Aximili, because our parents were quite honestly only following decrees.  And what am I?  Am I even a warrior, with no war to fight?  No, the _Time Matrix_ is too great for either side.  It is not only just a time machine.›

“What else is it?” Tobias asked after a pause.

‹It has the capabilities to create universes, to alter this pre-existing one.  Do you think Loren returned to earth without physical changes?  Did you think I received no negative effect from its use?  I’m over five years older physically.  When Loren returned, she was the equivalent of leaving high school.  And no one has noticed, because we made sure no one would.›  I closed my eyes. ‹No, I knew, after using it, neither Yeerk nor Andalite could be trusted with it.  Too powerful, too unstable, too uncertain.›

“So you destroyed it?” Cassie said quietly.

‹I did what I had to, what I could do.›  Let them think it was destroyed.

‹And that is why you were missing those years?› Aximili asked quietly.

I opened my eyes and looked at him.  ‹No,› I said levelly.  ‹I was missing because I chose to be missing.  I was sick to death of the war.  One mission in, and I was.  I was a young, naïve fool and I saw what war was, what it meant.  And I messed everything up.  My fellow _aristh_ was trapped as a _nothlit_ , as a Taxxon.  The humans had been infested, kidnapped, and everything else.  It was I who made it possible for Visser Three to take an Andalite host.  My Prince.›

Aximili stepped back as if I had struck him.  The children’s eyes all widened. 

‹War-Prince Alloran-Semitur-Corrass, Visser Three’s host, is a disgraced Andalite,› I said to the humans. Why was I speaking so much?  I wasn’t quite sure.  ‹No doubt what I shall be when I face the High Command.  Before his disgrace, he had been stationed on the Yeerk homeworld under Prince Seerow.  Because of Prince Seerow’s orders, Prince Alloran’s entire platoon of Andalite fighters were slaughtered, having been ordered not to fire upon the Gedds.   When the Yeerks first attacked, they were taken aware.  Years later, no doubt working under his idea of good intentions, Prince Alloran ordered the release of a Quantum virus on the Hork-Bajir homeworld.  It is a painful way to die, attacking any and all Hork-Bajir.  You do not need to understand how,› I said to the children before they could interrupt.  They were going to, I could tell.  ‹The logic was, if all the Hork-Bajir are dead, they cannot be used as hosts.  It was this that made Prince Alloran disgraced, not that the general Andalite public is aware.›  And most warriors, because Aximili looked ill from the truth.

I shook my eye stalks at the memories.  ‹By the time I served under him, he was mad.  A great warrior, yes, but terribly mad.  We had just left the Taxxon homeworld, having rescued the humans from their capture, having lost Arbron to his Taxxon form.›  I paused, remembering Arbron.  I did not think about him often, and I wondered if he was still alive.  Maybe I strayed too long on my old friend, maybe some of my memories went to the children, because when I paid attention to them, they were expressing pity.  I recovered quickly.

‹We should have gone to retrieve the _Time Matrix_.  Prince Alloran chose instead go to destroy a transport of Yeerks, ones without hosts, in their natural state.  I had defied him earlier, refusing to release them into space.  I did not think that was how wars were won, by slaughtering innocents, even if they were the enemy.  Again he ordered me to destroy them.  But we hadn’t paid attention to the humans.  They were infested already, one with the Yeerk that would become Visser Three.  The male attacked Prince Alloran and I struck my Prince unconscious, emptied a hypo into him that should have kept him down for hours.  I didn’t realize until fifteen minutes later, didn’t realize until after I freed the _Time Matrix_ and landed the _Jahar_ what I had allowed to happen.›  I sighed.  ‹The only saving grace was that Prince Alloran was no scientist, was not privy to all Andalite military secrets.  But he knew enough.  He knew enough.  Countless Andalites were killed because of my foolish mistake, many battles lost.›

They were all quiet.  My confession must have shocked their words away. 

“You stayed on Earth, didn’t you?” Cassie asked, finally breaking the silence with her soft voice.  “That’s why you can fit in so well.  Because you’ve done it before, for years.”

‹Yes.  I went to a human college, had a human job, a house, a human life.  This, what I do now, it is just a continuation of it.›

“So there are people who know you on Earth, who remember you?”

‹No.  My memory has been wiped from their minds.  Everyone’s.  Even Chee memories,› I said solemnly, seeing Mr. and Mrs. King coming to join you.  ‹Mr. King used to mow my lawn before he married.  His family, at that time, had three dogs – two terriers and a beagle-mix.  Their names were Wally, Cleo, and Cyrano.›

Mr. King was surprised.  “Yes.  That was in the early 80s.”

‹And you have no memory of my human form, do you?  Of a man who, three times, paid you thirty dollars to mow his yard?  No, of course not.›

“What happened?” Jake asked.

‹One day, I returned home and I had a visitor.  An Ellimist.  He said I wasn’t where and when I was supposed to be,› I repeated sarcastically.  ‹I was to be part of a battle, a turning point in everything.  And I was returned to the war.›

‹You ran away?› Aximili whispered.

‹Yes.  I ran away.  So you see, Aximili, I am no hero.›

“But you came back,” Jake said quietly.  “Doesn’t that count for something?”

‹My reasons for returning were never altruistic.  Make no mistake in that.  It was just that staying would have been even more selfish.›  I turned my attention to the Chee.  I was done with this conversation.  ‹And how is she?›

“Still unconscious.  She should seek professional care. But, we believe she will live.”

I closed my eyes with a small bitter bit of relief.  I felt tired.  ‹Good.  I will depart then.›

Tobias asked, “Aren’t you going to stay?  If she wakes up …”

‹She has no memory of me.  I am not part of her life,› I said tonelessly.  Everything I had was now lost.  Again.

 ****

I stayed away.  I followed Yeerks and leads.  I made the police aware of Loren’s disappearance in two days’ time, asking if they could check on her, she’d hadn’t been returning any of my calls.  They called me back, told me she had apparently been missing for several days.  I played the part of a frantic friend.  Probably not well, but acceptable.  Took responsibility of her home and everything, because, really, what else was I supposed to do with the money I had accumulated?  My method of getting finances worked too well.  Officially, Alan Fangor wasn’t a millionaire, but the company he worked for was.  I’d had to switch banks and open more accounts, because I didn’t want it to draw attention; honestly, it was a little over my head on what exactly I was supposed to do with all the money.  Loren had always handled the finances, because, in either form, I never had the head for them when applying them to real life.  I would have paid everything in full, bought the things needed to get things to work, and left us to starve when we needed to get food. 

Actually, the truth would probably be the reverse.

In any case, the days passed in a blur.  I avoided the children, Aximili, the Chee, my home, my Loren, eating and resting enough to get by.  It wasn’t difficult.  I was not missed; they did not search me out.  I wasn’t sure if it was by desire or choice, and honestly, I couldn’t care. 

Alone I caused trouble for the Yeerks.  Stopped a shipment here, killed informants there.  It was war, and I was no longer so idealistic to believe it could be won without bloodshed.  I hadn’t been in a very long time.  I just wanted the war to end, though I think I always knew in the pit of my hearts it was going to out-live me.  It was probably for the best.  I had been a part of it so long I don’t think I could have gone on without it, couldn’t have coped.  It was a bitter truth to admit, but it was true.  War was where I belonged, what I needed and understood.  Love the warrior, hate the war, as I said to Aximili once. And pity the warrior who needs the war.  Now I understood what Prince Alloran had meant those years ago on that fateful mission.

Sometimes, once a day, only once a day, I flew passed the window and saw Loren resting.  Never saw her awake, saw the Chee and the children around her, saw Champ. 

And then I always flew away as fast as my wings could carry me. 

It was life.

Though I was constantly in morph and away from home, I was not beyond contact.  In all my morphs I had a small chip that would send a simple pulse if my cell phone rang.  Most times I wouldn’t reach it before the caller hung up, but I could return the call by pressing a series of buttons or listening to the message, if left.  It was how I kept in contact with the police on Loren’s case.  It had been how I kept in touch with the children before.

I had been flying overhead a carpool of Controllers when I felt the buzz between my shoulder blades.  Loath to give up the trail, I banked and flew to the forest fifteen minutes away, to the tree I had hidden my phone in.  Manipulating it with my beak, I got the number from a simple screen I had added.  (Quite frankly, I had added so many things to my cell phone it must have been at least ten years advanced.)  It was not a number I recognized immediately, until my addled brain remembered the Chee number Erek had given us so very long ago.

I stared at the screen for a long time until finally some side – I don’t know which it was, or what its opposition was – won out.  I checked the area then flew away with the phone in my grasp.  I could have just called.  Probably should have.  But I didn’t.  I flew to the Chee home, entering through a space where the attic screen should have been; it must have been removed just this week. 

The door was open and I would have flown through the house, until I remembered there were dogs.  Best not to chance it.  So instead I landed and demorphed.  Tired from the travel, I didn’t morph to human.  I left the room, holding the cell phone in my hands as I carefully traversed the steps, but as I left, I could hear raised voices, growling. 

‹What is going on?› I called, trying to speed up.

From an open doorway I saw Jake step out.  “Elfangor.  We didn’t know if you were coming.  Ax, Marco, and Rachel went looking for you.  I was just going to leave.”

‹Why?›  I had finally reached the bottom of the steps and moved closer.

Jake looked at me.  “It’s Loren.  The Chee say she’s been coming in and out all week, but she’s getting infected.  She’s getting delirious.  She won’t let anyone next to her.”

I remained unmoved.  On the surface, anyway.

He frowned at my nature, but before he could speak a scream tore our attention.  I knew the scream and barreled past, only to stop frozen at the door.  There was Loren, flushed and drawn and with dehydration, screaming, “Get away from me!  Get away!”

Tobias was pleading with her to let them next to her, and Cassie was trying to help, but Champ was growling and barking, protective.  Even the Chee could not get near.  They may have an affinity with dogs, but they were not Champ’s mistress and he was not indoctrinated to accept them. 

And I moved without much conscious thought, slowly approaching and waving Tobias and Cassie away.  They were scaring her.  I bent low and submissive to Champ, who silenced his growls and sniffed my hand, then nudged it.  I was familiar; I had given him food, visited, was confirmed as a friend. 

‹There’s a good boy, Champ,› I said softly, and carefully moved to Loren, who had pressed herself against the wall.  Delusional, scared.  ‹Loren?›

She jerked away.  “Get away from me!  Leave me alone!”

I took her hands and, though normally she could have easily escaped my weak Andalite hold, held her as she fought.  And I demorphed set her hands on my face once it was mostly human.  “Loren.  Loren.  Hush, hush,” I soothed, voice as gentle as possible.

She stilled and I let her hands feel my face as I finished morphing.  “Alan?” she mouthed.

I touched her face.  My poor, sick little Loren.  She looked like that time she had a bad case of the flu.  She said I was the worst nurse ever, except in spirit.  I couldn’t be good because I had to ask what to do; I was half in a panic.  Loren had basically been taking care of herself.  “Yes.  Shhh.  Calm down, you’re safe now.  I promise you.”

And suddenly she collapsed into my arms, sobbing wildly.  I could hear my name, the snatches of what had happened, the fear, the confusion.  “I knew you’d come.  I knew you’d save me,” she whimpered into my neck as I rocked her, murmuring those soft human comfort sounds.

“I’ve got you.  I’ve got you.  Let it out.  Yes, shhh.”  She was burning up.  I felt someone hand me a glass of water.  “Here, drink this.  You’ll feel better.  Slow and steady, there.”

And there, at her side, I could feel the bandages.  They were soaked, and moving her shirt I could see the blood seeping through.  She whimpered at my touch.

“Trust me.  I’ve got you.  No one will hurt you.”  I nodded to Mrs. King.  As I held Loren still, the Chee changed the bandage.

“Not human, it’s not human,” Loren sobbed.

“They won’t harm you.  I promise.”  I brushed her hair and gave her whatever the Chee handed me before curling back against the bed with Loren.  I kept my gaze focused on her, speaking softly as she clung to my shoulders and chest.  I wore no morphing shirt, only tight biking pants that went to my knees.  No doubt we looked ridiculous.

Loren mumbled strange things to me, hardly coherent, and I gave noises back.  When she startled, I breathed out old Andalite lullabies.  She had always liked them, when I used to say them to her before we fell asleep.  They were so pretty, she said, the language so musical and poetic.  Of course she was right.  The Andalite language is beautiful.

She drifted unconscious soon though, but I continued holding her, eyes closed.  She’ll rest better, I told myself, if I stay just a little longer.    Over my humming I heard the others leave, the door shutting.  I didn’t care.  Just a little longer, and I’ll go.

I left with ten minutes to spare, flying from the window, leaving Loren curled in bed, tucked under the blanket.  Just before I left, I heard the door open and one of the children call my name.  I was already in the sky when the door opened fully.  As far as they could have known, I could have been gone since they left. 

 ****

The children came upon me early that weekend, when I was gardening.  I was a terrible gardener, honestly, despite my numerous books on the subject.  My garden looked unsymmetrical and awful, and I think my morph was, in retaliation to my horrid attempts, becoming allergic to pollen. 

They rode up on their bikes, though I didn’t see that.  My back was to them. 

“Hello, Mr. Fangor,” Jake called, and I twisted to see them coming towards me.  Their faces were not happy, but determined.

“Hello, Jake.  The rest of you,” I said, going back to my tulips.  “What can I do for you?” Hopefully it wasn’t Yeerk-related.  This was my time to relax.

“We need to talk.  About … about Loren,” he continued, finishing in a quiet whisper.

“What about her?” I said, toiling in the soil.

“I think we should speak inside.”

I looked over at them again.  The sun was to their sides, masking half their faces in shadows.   “Very well,” I said plainly, standing and wiping my hands.

We went into the building, to the kitchen, where I washed my hands.  Over the running water, I said, “What do you have to say?”

“She’s dying.”

I didn’t even falter.

Tobias stepped in.  “Elfangor, the Chee say she’s not getting better.  She has to go to a hospital.” His voice quavered.  I felt terrible for foisting this onto him.

“But we can’t do that, can we?” Marco said.  “Because then we’d just be giving her back to the Yeerks.  And, even though she’s sick, she knows stuff now.  The Chee.  Your morph.  Us.”

I turned the water off and wiped my hands calmly on a hand towel before turning to face them.  Maybe to hide the way my hands would have been shaking.  However, I was a warrior.  I had seen and sent fellow warriors to meet their deaths.  This was no different.  “So she dies.”  The words had to be forced from my mouth.

“No!” Tobias yelled.

“Elfangor,” Cassie said carefully, “you don’t want that to happen.”

“Of course not,” I said, perhaps too sharply.  “Do you think I enjoy seeing others die?”  I struggled to keep my emotions under control.  “I have sent countless warriors to their deaths under my orders.  Friends and comrades as well as over-eager fools.”

“But Loren isn’t a warrior under your command,” Rachel said with anger.

“Then she isn’t under my protection.”

“Then why rescue her?” Marco asked.

My heart raced and I struggled to keep my breathing level.  “Because that was an issue of my own creation.”

“And what were you going to do after you rescued her?” Jake asked.  “You must have known she couldn’t go back to her old life.”

I nodded distantly.  “Of course not.  However, such worries are made to be settled after a battle.”  What had I planned to do?  Honestly, there had been no plan.  I had only focused on rescuing her.  What I fool I was.

“Elfangor, the Chee … they say she’s going to die.  They can’t do anything to help her,” Tobias pleaded.  “She’s my mom.”

What did they expect me to do?  I couldn’t stop death.  I couldn’t trade places with her.

“We thought of something,” Jake interjected.  “Actually, Ax did.”  I looked at them.  Aximili wasn’t even present … no wait, I heard a door opening, footsteps.  No, hoofsteps.  Back door then.  I told him not to do that.  He better not be traipsing mud into the house.  “But … we want your permission.”

I was confused.  My permission?  “For what?”  But even as I asked, I saw as Aximili stepped into my view, holding it.  The _Escafil_ device.

‹We can give Loren the morphing ability as well,› Aximili said.  ‹She could morph and her wounds would be healed.›

My eyes were focused on him, my jaws clenched, my hands tight on the cloth in my grip.  I couldn’t think, hear, past the blood pumping in my temple. A chance, something to grab onto, to save my Loren. Yes, it was possible!  Not as great as the children may think, but yes … but then, then she would be part of this war, irrevocably.  Was that right, to force that upon her?  But to let her die?  What right did I have there?

“Do as you will,” I said tightly.  “I do not need my permission.”

“No, we don’t need your permission,” Cassie agreed.  “But we want it.”

My hands … I stopped the shaking with an iron will and turned away.  “Have it, then. I am already doomed to be disgraced.”  It came out more bitter than I wanted or meant, more venomously. 

“Won’t you come with?” Cassie asked.  “Loren responds to you.  The dog trusts you.”

They wanted me to give her the ability.  I gripped the counter.  “I’ll be there.”  Now leave, I ordered mentally, silently.  Or maybe not, because they all vacated my kitchen in quick succession, even Aximili.  I didn’t care, standing against the sink. 

Bile rose in my throat and I vomited.  Nothing but an empty stomach, just a single gag.  I spit into the sink.  Not a pleasant taste.  I didn’t move for at least a half an hour, and then I demorphed and morphed into my hawk.  Through the window I took to the sky, struggled for the altitude, soared high and free.

At the King residence, the window to Loren’s room was open; there was no screen.  I could see everyone waiting for me.  For a moment, just a moment, I thought to keep flying.  I could disappear again.  But no, I could not leave Loren to die.  I had no right to end her life.  I knew that now as well as I knew back then in the black hole.

So I folded my wings and dived, flew to the room and neatly landed on the bedpost.  Champ jumped at my arrival, but I snapped harshly, ‹Back!›  His training took over, barely, and he eyed me curiously. 

They thought I wasn’t coming.  It was clear to see and listen, had I chosen to.  Instead, I demorph, still on the post, timing it until I would have to be on the floor.  Morphing was not so uncontrollable as one may believe, I have learned.  The _estreens_ knew that and worked it to their advantage, their art.  In times of trouble, very likely the part you want to appear first will appear first.  You may not be able to use it, but it appears. 

Once completely in my Andalite form, I took the _Escafil_ device from my brother and without preamble went to Loren’s side and held her limp, clammy hand to a side, mine to another.  Made the command, and once again I had disobeyed High Command words for even less noble reasons than when I had given the gift to the children.

Saving the planet was one thing.  Saving someone for my own selfish reasons was another.

‹Everyone, leave,› I ordered quietly. 

There were some words, but I remained stoic and eventually my order was heeded.  I allowed my features to melt to my human form before gently waking Loren. “Loren?  Loren, my love, you must wake up,” I whispered, stroking her hot forehead, my lips only inches away from her ear.  “Wake up.”  I shook her gently and eventually her eyes fluttered, unfocused, wavering, heavy-lidded. 

“Alan?”  There was no sound from her lips.

“Yes, my love.”  I took her hand and crossed our fingers, kissed it before setting it on Champ’s head.  “How are you?”

No words.  Already slipping away.

“Loren, stay with me, listen to my voice.  Isn’t Champ a beautiful dog?  He is, isn’t he?  Such a good dog, a nice dog.”

She nodded slightly.

“Don’t you want to be Champ?  Yes, you do.  Your hand is on his head.  Feel his soft fur.  Yes, love.  You want to be Champ, don’t you?  Don’t you?  Be him, Loren.  Make him part of you.” 

I kept up with conversation until I saw Champ’s demeanor turn docile, trance-like.  Fifteen minutes of constant coaxing, pleading, tempting.  That was the easy part, the acquiring.

I made Champ leave the room, opened the door enough so he could slip out, before returning to the bed.  Loren had already fallen unconscious again.  

“Loren, Loren, honey, you must wake up again.  Just a little while longer, and then everything will be well.  I promise you.”  Perhaps a lie.  “Don’t you want to be Champ?  Be Champ, Loren.  Imagine yourself as him, his perky ears, long tongue, wet nose.  Loren, please, stay awake.  Be Champ.”

The first changes were slight.  Her nose.  The subtle fur pattern.  I had to coax all of them out of her.  She lost consciousness many times.  This was so very dangerous, because if she faltered in the wrong area ….  But the children didn’t know that. 

However, finally, Champ was resting next to me, tangled in the sheets, in Loren’s clothes.  Just as exhausted as Loren had been, but alert, conscious, well.

“Hello, Loren,” I said evenly, scratching her ears, helping to remove the clothing and sheets as she rolled to get comfortable.  “Yes, your name is Loren.  Remember yourself.  Yes, you are a dog.  This is not a dream.  Not a dream.”

For a minute she leaned into my touch, perhaps the dog’s instinct leading her, and then suddenly drew away.  She growled at me, and I took my hands and set them on my lap. Hurt. “To be human again, simply want to be human.  Think of yourself, your normal body.  The feel of your hair, nose, fingers, arms.  Yes, that is it.  Do not be afraid.” My tone was emotionless as I guided her back to her true form.  And then she was in front of me.  Naked.  Beautiful.  Unscarred.  The wound at her side was completely healed, her face as I remembered it, but older, of course.

And she wasn’t blind anymore.  I met her gaze levelly, as her eyes widened.

“I can see,” she breathed, voice hoarse.

I focused on her face.  I had to.  “Yes.  Your body was reconstructed based on your DNA.  The wounds were not part of that.”

“I can see,” she repeated, looking at her hands.  And then she looked at me, cold fury in her eyes.  “You’re not human.”

“No.”

“You used me.  You lied to me.”

I swallowed.  “Yes.”  Maybe it was a lie, maybe it was the truth.  I didn’t know anymore.

A suddenly Loren’s hand was stinging my face, my cheek.  Not physically hard, but hard enough to bring tears to my eyes as I looked away.  “You bastard!”

“Yes.”  I stood up slowly, looking away from her.  In all my time with Loren, in both lives, she had never struck me as she had done now.  But, then again, I had never hurt her as I just had.  “I will leave you now.  The Chee will take care of you.  Your son will want to see you.  The rest of the children as well.  They will answer your questions.  Good-bye, Loren.”

She didn’t answer me, and I calmly left the room, face impassive.  I nodded to the children’s inquiries, whatever they were, let them pass.  Walked down the steps of the King home, away from them.

I went home, to my house.  Took a cab, paid him at the house and ignored all of the strange stares my wardrobe had garnered.  And once he drove out of sight and the door shut was behind me, I screamed and slammed my fist into the wall, into a mirror that unfortunately was there, shattering it to pieces and staining the carpet with my blood.

 ****

Life went on for the next few weeks.  The Yeerks were a force to be stopped, and we stopped them.  For better or worse.  Loren did not join these missions.  As far as I knew, she had no intention of joining the fight.  Just as well.  I did not want her under my command.  I knew she would be a fine warrior; she was strong.  But I did not want it.  Was it not bad enough that I had forced my son, who still did not know his true heritage, to join the war?  That my brother, buoyed by false stories of my greatness, did as well?  That I forced human children as well?

Let one person dear to me stay out of the added danger.

It was not to last.  The story of my life.

It ended when we met in a clearing.  I had been feeding with Aximili.  It was odd; when I was human, I missed being an Andalite, but as an Andalite, I missed my human form.  I wondered what that made me, trapped on the cusp between two different species.  It wasn’t like missing wings or swimming, but a deep, painful yearning and sense of loss, difficult to describe.  But I felt it, no matter what my form.

And worse, I did not know in which form the hurt was more.

Aximili and I had a little conversation as we fed, nothing of consequence.  There was now an undercurrent to any dialogue between us, ever since my admission of cowardice.  Whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, Aximili gave me strange, calculating gazes.  I saw them and made no comment.  I had fallen in his eyes.  Well, eventually he would have had to learn I wasn’t a great, perfect hero.  Better it to be now.

I had been sharpening my blade against a rock when I saw the shadows, saw the birds of prey dive down to say hello.  I smiled and greeted them pleasantly until I realized that it was not five, but six birds I was addressing.  My smile fell.

‹What is the problem?› I asked, purposefully looking away from the merlin.

‹We were just taking Loren on a flight and thought we’d just stop by,› Rachel said too breezily.  Sarcastic. 

‹Are you paying attention to your time?›

‹Of course we are.  We’re not stupid,› Marco snorted.  ‹You sound like my dad.›

I struggled to not wince.  Parental instincts.  Apparently I do have them.  Being an absentee father hadn’t diminished their formation.

‹Actually, we need to talk about something,› Jake interrupted.  ‹It’s well …›

‹I want to move out of Dog Sanctuary,› Loren said bluntly, forcing me to look at her.  At her angry eyes, but then again, falcon eyes are always angry.

‹Yes?›

‹So how do you plan to make that happen?› she demanded.

I blinked slowly.  ‹How do I plan … I have no plan for such a venture.›

‹Can’t you do for Loren what you did for you and Ax?› Tobias asked.  Strange that he didn’t call her mom or mother, I thought.

‹Yes, I suppose.  But it will take time to set up.  At least a month.›

‹I’m not staying another month there!› Loren exclaimed.  ‹I’ll go mad!›

‹I am sorry, but that is the necessary time for a seamless integration.  Any sooner and the risk of detection rises exponentially.›

‹Why a month?› Marco asked.

‹Because first I must create a reasonable cover.  I need to acquire a birth certificate and social security number, in the least.  After that, I must choose a bank outside the state.  I must gradually fill it to an appropriate sum while I modify their records to give the appearance of an account held open for several years.  Then I may need to find another bank to transfer the money to, depending on the history of the persona.  After that, I must transfer most of the money to a bank near the city, all by computer or phone.  I must make sure to give the appearance of direct depositing, should a job be desired. Because of the job, I must create another account where money will be originally from, setting up necessary precautions.

‹Once that is done, then the process of finding a home becomes an issue.  Subtle inquiries and checking must be done with realtors until a reasonable home is discovered.  It is then purchased, and during the moving process I close the other account, moving the rest of the money into bank of this city.  Then furniture must be purchased in a discrete manner until it will appear the home is lived in.  Then the remaining odds and ends are to be taken care of, such as speaking of the fake history to neighbors so the integration is made believable, as well as making government documents and credit reports.›  I shrugged.  ‹So you see, a month, at the least, is needed.  I personally would prefer longer.›

‹How long did you take with yours?› Jake asked, surprised.

‹I started my accounts within a day of my being stranded here.  I knew I would need money eventually, and that I could not rely on the income of middle schoolers.›

‹Got that right,› Marco muttered.

Cassie asked, ‹Do you really have to do all of that?  Why not just as Loren live at your house, like a live-in guest?›

I faltered and dared to look at Loren for a moment.  ‹I had assumed she would prefer her own place of residence.›  I felt like a child and struggled not to scoff my hooves like one, or to make my thought-speak submissive, humble.

‹So if she just moved in, what would she need?› Cassie continued.

‹Very little, possibly nothing.  It would be wise to at least have official documentation of her life, but that can be easily created on the fly.›

‹How often are you there?› Loren asked after a pause.

‹Not often,› I lied, and everyone must have known it.  ‹Only enough so as to not make people suspicious at a house standing empty.›  Another lie.  ‹If you wish to live there, I will lessen my time there.›  Possibly another lie, or a promise that twisted in my stomach.

‹That sounds far easier than everything else you said.›

I nodded.  ‹Very well.  You may move in at your convenience.  The children shall show you where everything is.›

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

‹You know,› Marco said, ‹you really don’t have to refer to us as the children all the time.  We’re not babies.›

‹I shall think of a different title, then.›  No, I wouldn’t, because they were children.  They would always be children to me.  ‹Are there other pressing matters that I should be aware of?›

There was nothing.  The sole purpose, I realized, had been to find me, was to subtly allow Loren into my home.  I wasn’t a fool, though I played along.  It was too easily brought up, thought of.  Once they flew away, I looked at Aximili, ‹Tell them, the next time, to not bother with the charade.›

He looked startled, then ashamed.  He knew I knew he had played his part as well, to keep me somewhere they could find me.  ‹Elfangor, they did not mean –›

‹Just tell them.  I do not need to play silly games, to waste my time.›

‹We – they,› he corrected quickly, ‹thought you would not agree.  With Loren, you are not …›

‹We are in a war!› I snapped.  ‹Do you think I would let my personal feelings for a human cloud my judgment?› More than it already was. ‹What choice is there?  Because you children› — I would not accept blame here, though I had wanted it just as badly as them, perhaps even more so — ‹have decided to give her the morphing ability, we cannot let her be taken by the Yeerks.  She knows who the humans are, she knows about our secrets.  There is no choice.›

Aximili looked at me strangely, with trepidation.  There was a question on his face; what, I didn’t know, and he didn’t ask it.  Instead, he said, ‹Yes, my Prince.›

 ****

I did as I promised.  I stayed away from my home.  I started sleeping in the forest, an act that left me sleepless for several days until I reacquainted myself to the night noises.   With little distraction offered, because if there was one thing the house offered, it had been a distracting kitchen and computer, I visited the Hork-Bajir, aware that their little one would have been born.  I needed to extend my congratulations, like a neighbor and friend should do.

The run did me well, even if I did carry the small tree.  Andalite custom, understand.  Normally, it would be a small plant, a flower or similar, but the Hork-Bajir would get more pleasure from a tree.  It was an immature sycamore.  I was not sure how it would fare in this area, but if anyone could manage, certainly it would be tree-herders.

I saw the family quickly, even if they were centered in the trees.  The young Hork-Bajir was close to Ket, the tips of the blades blunted.  By now, though, the blades should have hardened and taken an edge.  While I did not know much about Hork-Bajir development, I knew within a few weeks the little one would be able to harvest the softest bark.

‹Jara Hamee, Ket Halpak, greetings,› I called politely.  ‹I have come to express my congratulations at your new addition.›

“Prince Elfangor!  You come!” Jara Hamee called, jumping down to the ground.  I’ll admit it, I backed away in surprise.  I did not have good experiences with Hork-Bajir jumping down from high places.  Ket Halpak followed slower, her child clinging to her.

‹Yes.  I offer this as my congratulations,› I said, holding out the pot.  Jara Hamee looked at it, unsure, before awkwardly taking in.

“Thank you?”

“Thank you,” Ket Halpak mirrored.

Smiling, I explained, ‹It is Andalite custom, a symbol for the new life.  As the plant grows, so shall your little one.›  I looked at the little Hork-Bajir.  A girl, I realized.  ‹She is a lovely child.›

“Tree is good for food,” Jara Hamee commented, bending the plant.  “Very soft.”

My eyes widened at the implication, but it was not my place to correct them. 

The small Hork-Bajir, who had been watching me with the curious expression little ones have when they see something they do not know, made a sound and indicated she wished to hold the plant.  Perhaps she desired to ingest it already.  Jara Hamee gave it to her, and she held the large pot clumsily with her small hands.

‹I should warn you, I do not know if the plant is toxic,› I apologized.  ‹I thought … that is, they grow into very nice trees.›  Desperate to recover, I asked, ‹What is your daughter’s name?›

“Toby Hamee.  After human male, Tobias.  He helped escape, visits us,” Ket Halpak said.

“Good friend,” Jara Hamee agreed.

It isn’t necessary to say the intelligence didn’t surprise me.  Especially with the current changes in Tobias’ life, that he took the time to still visit these simple people spoke of his character.  It was something I was proud of, even if I had no part in its development.  ‹It is a very high honor, and I am sure he feels it.›

The Hork-Bajir nodded.  Little Toby Hamee indicated she wished to be put down, and her parents agreed with her desire.  I smiled at how easily she had bended her parents to her will and wondered if it was the same with all young.  My parents used to report Aximili’s exploits to me, and I had been amused at their actions towards my little brother when he was new to the world. 

After agreeing to watch their young, Jara Hamee and Ket Halpak went back to the trees, though I did note with amusement they did turn their gaze often to make sure we were still safe.  No doubt I would have done the same, except I would have kept one eye literally fixed.  The small Hork-Bajir looked up at me, eyes intent on me and pot still held in her hands.

‹Hello, Toby Hamee,› I said, keeping my tone light and not threatening, and smiling.  ‹I do hope you enjoy your tree. One way or another.›

“I will not eat your gift, Prince Elfangor.”

Thought left me and I started at the child Hork-Bajir in shock.

Toby Hamee smiled up at me, a secretive little smile.  “You are surprised.”

‹Forgive me,› I said, trying to regain my composure.

“There is nothing to forgive.  You could not have known.”

No, I couldn’t have, but it did not negate my actions.  A Seer, a rare thing, and a dangerous one.  No wonder the Ellimist had (or had not, as he would claim,) interfered.  I did not know my history of Hork-Bajir seers, but I knew they were uncommonly clever.  One had been present during the Yeerk attacks on the Hork-Bajir planet, led the freed beings in the hopeless fight.

“Thank you for the tree.  What kind is it?”

‹It is a sycamore.  I do not know much about the care of them, but they are native to the area, so it should flourish.›

Examining the branches and few leaves, Toby Hamee commented, “You did not have to bring us a gift.  We are not Andalites, and my parents wouldn’t understand.”

‹That is not the point of bringing a _desh_.  An arrival is an important thing to celebrate and honor.›  It was strange to talk about such things with her, so young, only a few weeks from her birth.  ‹I should have delivered it earlier, but … I was distracted.›

She nodded as if she understood.  Maybe she did.  Or, perhaps more likely, she was gracefully accepting any excuse I could give, reguardless of whether or not she believed it.  “I shall plant this now.  I hope we shall become friends, Prince Elfangor.”

‹As do I.›  I bowed awkwardly.  Even if she was a child, Toby Hamee deserved the respect.  It wouldn’t do to start things off on the wrong hoof.  ‹I wish you the day well, Toby Hamee.›

“And I, you, Prince Elfangor.”

 ****

It wasn’t until a week went by that I dared to return, to be human. 

Entering through the back door, Champ greeted me enthusiastically.  I smiled warmly and bent to scratch his ears.  “Hello to you as well, Champ.  Have you been a good boy?  Yes.  Yes.”  He licked my face.

After the greeting, I took the back steps up the second floor, the staircase that, unlike the main one, was surrounded by walls.   I did not find it comforting, but I wished to avoid Loren and this way was close to my room.  Champ followed at my heels.

I made it up without meeting Loren, though I could hear her, or at least the radio.  Living room, then.  My room was as I had left it.  I settled in front of my computer and started going through my strategy to find Yeerk problems.  Champ settled by my feet, and every once in a while I petted his head.

There was much to check, since I had neglected this duty for so long.  First, of course, I took care of my human issues.  Made sure I hadn’t suddenly gained too much in these weeks, that I still had enough funds in the accounts.  Then the true issues, the Yeerks.

Three-quarters of an hour later, I was immensely curious.  Such shifting of funds, strange orders.  Something was going on, and I set to find out.  I searched for which Controller had made the changes, where they were based.  Finally reaching the end of a long, complicated loop, leading me to where I wasn’t sure, I leaned back in the chair.  “Odd.”

“What is?”

The voice startled me so much that I leapt from the chair as if it was on fire, bent and poised like I was prepared for a fight or to flee.  Loren stood in the doorway, surprised at my reaction.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I nodded gruffly, straightening, crossing my arms, then letting them fall to my side.  I suddenly felt self-conscious about my morphing outfit.  It left me half undressed, a stark contrast to Loren’s full wardrobe.  I felt oddly vulnerable.  “It is fine.  I should have been more vigilant.”  I had grown accustomed to a home to myself during school hours, grown used to no one bothering me.

We stood in silence, awkward.  “What did you find out?” she finally asked.

“I do not know yet.”

“Oh.”

Again, silence.  I didn’t know what to say, so I looked at her.  She looked different, to go into hiding, and this was the first I had seen of the changes.

Her hair was no longer yellow, the color of the sun, but jet black, like night.  A direct contrast not lost on me.  And it was not long, but so very short.  Not as short as Marco’s or Cassie’s, but it was not long.  I liked her hair long.  She wore different make-up that what she had those years ago, ones that brought out different features. Made her look differently. And suddenly it hit me, it hit me and I felt my knees shake.

My Loren was gone.  She had been gone all this time and I was too blind to see it.  To understand and acknowledge it, but now it was all too painfully clear.  She was gone.  I was clinging to the ghost of her, the memory.

Eighteen years.  It was too long.  We were both completely different.  I wasn’t in love with this Loren, but the one I had left, the one who understood everything, who knew the real me, the me  I had left behind and the one I had created.  That was my Loren, not this one.  I was just so desperate, clinging to the memory.  I was a fool, and it took this for me to see it.  A short, black-haired, dark make-upped facsimile of my Loren.  Even when she had been blind, I had been pretending.  Yes, for short blasts I had known it, must have, but had always pushed it aside.

My Loren was gone.  Forever.

I swallowed thickly.  Then said, “When you get the time, please construct a new persona.  Name, birthday, parents, siblings, schooling, birthplace, the like.  I will finalize everything once you finish.”

She nodded.  “Yes.  I’ve already started.  I thought … I thought I could go by the name Matilda. You have a convenient story for that.”

Yes, I did.  “I will come back in three days, then.”

“Alan,” she started, then sighed.  “Elfangor.  You don’t have to stay away so much.  This is your home.”

Again I nodded.  “I will see myself out. Good day, Matilda.”  Not Loren.  Not ever again.

She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped.  “Yeah.  Good day, Alan.”  Her tone was odd.

I stepped past her, careful not to touch, walking steady.  I was halfway down the steps when I heard her say, “And don’t be a stranger.”

I made no reply.  We were strangers.  I left my house and demorphed in the forest, then ran until I collapsed to my knees, exhausted, as if I was trying to outrun the truth.  But you can’t outrun that, and besides, it had already caught me in its grasp.

 ****

Once I had acknowledged the truth, my life seemed to be easier.  It didn’t feel like I had such a heavy weight bearing me down anymore.  Yes, I admit, sometimes I felt melancholy, but in everything considered, it was better.  Better than trying to make things work, than trying to hide everything.  I didn’t feel like I had to avoid the children, her.

It was a good thing that particular desire fled me.  With the addition of _Matilda_ , there was a certain amount of extra traffic in my home.  I didn’t quite understand it.  After all, she was a competent adult.  The children didn’t _need_ to hold her hand, protect her from this new world or whatever nonsense they thought they were doing.  They meant well, surely, but the description _overboard_ described them.

That said, I did understand why Tobias chose to be present more often, spent more nights over.  I could even understand the disapproval I saw in his face.  What action precisely deserved the disapproval, I wasn’t sure, because there were quite a few it could be.  Possibly it was the betrayal at not telling him about his mother or my treatment of her, or maybe something else I couldn’t see.  Teenagers do find a surplus of things to be angry about, and until he confronted me, I would remain uncertain.  The best thing to do would be to continue on as always.

One of which consisted making sure he got up for school.  I had very quickly learned Tobias had to bad habit of either not setting the alarm, keeping the volume too low to wake him up, or sleeping through the sound.  It was obviously a trait he got from the maternal side of the family.  Considering my opinion of his current guardian, it was a marvel he ever got to school on time when he didn’t stay the night. 

After knocking and calling quietly, sometimes I had to enter his room and shake him awake.  Champ followed me, watching me go about the tasks.  Tobias looked at me blearily.  “It’s half to seven, nearly time for school.”

He made a noise and rolled over.  I shook my head and left the room.  If he did not come down by seven, I would be firmer.  In the kitchen, the radio was turned on to a moderate volume.  It was one electronic device I did not let the children toy with.  If they did not like my choice of music, it was their problem.  And it wasn’t like I listened to terrible music by human standards.  The station played a collection of songs, both modern and oldies. 

The weather was drizzly, but I opened the window for the fresh air it offered when I let Champ outside.  Periodically checking to make sure he did not wander off, I got the ingredients to make a breakfast of pancakes.   I made the batter and started to cook the flapjacks.  While they browned, I warmed the syrup and washed the fruits before halving the strawberries.  There was enough batter to make fifteen reasonably-sized pancakes.  The juice and milk were set on the table, the coffee made, and I made myself a stack of five pancakes with enough fruit, syrup, and whipped cream to leave a sizeable dent in the materials.  By the time I was settling into the paper, there was definite movement from upstairs, and I sighed.  Five minutes to spare.

Champ settled under the table at my feet, I fed him a few blueberries inbetween my reading and own eating.  My breakfast – or at least the first helping – was almost half-finished before Tobias came down the stairs.  It was debatable if he had brushed his hair, as it was unruly due to his head-scratching.  Yawning, he sat down and started to help himself.

“Good morning,” I greeted.  For a moment, Champ almost went to him, but my own continuation of dining stopped him.  Amused, I rewarded him with a bit of strawberry.

“Ax isn’t here?”

“It is early.  He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”  Because I told him that if he couldn’t leave enough for the others, it’d be better he is waited until there were only leftovers.  Indeed, Aximili would time it to arrive within five minutes of Tobias’ leaving, when, in his opinion, whatever was left _was_ leftovers.

He ate quietly, casting a few glances to the stairs.  “… You didn’t wake up Loren, I mean, my mom?”

“There’s no reason.  She doesn’t have to go to school.  Besides, if you two are anything alike, she will not appreciate being wakened at such an, how do the humans say, ungodly hour.”  I speared a strawberry at the very true _fact_. 

Tobias gave a little smile and ducked his head under the pretense to assist eating.  A few bites, he looked out the window.  “Is it going to rain?”

“According to human meteorologists, yes.  But not too hard.  I’ll drive you to school, if you don’t want to go to the bus in the rain.  If it’s raining when school lets out, I’ll pick you up as well, if you should like.”

He shrugged and suggested casually, “Or my mom could do it.”

I looked up at him from over the paper.  “I might have forged a driver’s license for her, but she hasn’t driven anything in over twelve years.  I don’t have nearly enough insurance to let her drive one of my vehicles.  Nor do I want either of you to get yourselves killed.”

“Oh.”  Though disappointed, Tobias probably realized I was right.

“I’m sure she’ll reteach herself soon enough,” I consoled, sipping my coffee.  “Driving isn’t that hard.  Unless you’re Marco.”

He laughed a little and contined eating, but only for a few bites.  And then he started picking at his food as another thought came to him.  “Elfangor …”

The tone set me on edge and I made sure I remained poised as I helped myself to two more pancakes and the appropriate toppings.  “Yes?”  I broke off a small bit of broken pancake to feed to the beggar at my knee and made a note to ask his mistress exactly _when_ his feeding times were.

“Why … why didn’t you tell me?  About her.”  His voice was quiet at the end, as if he didn’t want ask anymore and by quieting his voice, it accomplished the desire.

I paused.  What could I admit?  That I didn’t want to share, ruin the equilibrium I had achieved?  No.  Because, while that might have been a reason later on, it wasn’t the underlying cause.  I did try, at one time.  “Because … because she asked me not to.”  It was better, in my opinion, for Tobias to not know about her than have him find she did not wish to see him.  Such pain no one deserved.

His face fell and I knew he was hurt.  “Why would she do that?”

For a moment, I wondered if I should pat his shoulder or other human consoling methods, but I wasn’t sure if that was right.  “I … understand that it hurts, but … try to understand it from your mother’s point of view.  Her home was less comfortable than even your Uncle’s.  She had no true income.  It is not a home she felt you deserved.”

“I still needed a mom.  A house didn’t matter.”

While the sentiment was true, I was aware that reality had its value.  “I cannot tell you what she thought, Tobias.  But she did honestly believe you were better off not under her care.  That is all a parent wishes – that their child is cared for as well as possible, even if it is not with them.  That they are safe and loved.”  _Especially safe_ , I thought to myself.

Tobias made a sound and looked down. 

I felt like I had to defend her.  I could not bear for Tobias to think too poorly of his mother. “You cannot place all the blame on her, either.”

He raised his eyes, shocked.  “What?  How could I –”

“Not you.  Your aunt and uncle.  Even if she did not raise you, they could have kept in contact.  The responsibility should have fallen to them, in my opinion, because of her accident and change in abilities.  But they didn’t.  They let you believe she could not cope, that she abandoned you.  Lies.  For a few years, while she acclimated to her handicap, perhaps it was better if you were away, but afterwards?  Even a small visit, a phone call.  She has lived in that neighborhood for years and has never left the city.  To what benefit did they have in not keeping contact?”

He didn’t know, but it was clear such a thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“We all have had our share of pain and hurt,” I said quietly.  “While the mistake was made, it was made from nothing but fear and good-intentions.  I think, by the end, she was trying to get up the courage to fix the error.  It was worse then, because of the guilt at knowing that she hadn’t acted for all those months.  She cared for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” I said, a bit surprised that he would ask such a question.  “She listened raptly to the reports I gave, and I will say she was probably the stoutest defender of you children when I caught you in mischief.  True, she did not know the true depth of your wrong-doings, but we cannot pretend that by coming to protect you troublemakers she did not love or feel responsible for you.”

The words made his face lighter.

“It will not help anything if you let the hurt fester.  Especially not now, not in this war.”

“Don’t waste a second chance, huh?” He tried grinning.

“It is sound advice.” 

“Something you followed.”  At my confusion, he blushed.  “You said you were friends with my mom, since you saved her from those Skrit Na.”

I looked away to think for a moment.  “We were friends, yes, but … we are not the same friends now.  Friendships are based on, among other things, experiences shared.  Those are gone, now.  We may be friends, but it will not be possible to be at our previous level.  Lost memories aside, it has been many years.  We are different now.  I am no longer an _aristh_ ; your mother is no longer what she was.”

“But you don’t have to be the same sort of friends,” Tobias said.  “You didn’t visit her so much and not become friends, at least.”

“Yes, that is true.  But as you get older, you will learn that sometimes you prefer one version of the friendship over the other, the personal versus the acquaintance or vice versa.”  I looked at the clock, even though internally I knew the time as I sat back.  “Finish your breakfast.  We have to leave soon.”

Tobias stared at me a moment before complying.  I finished my plate as well and let Champ lick it clean.  If syrup was bad for dogs, he did not mind.  By the time we were getting the umbrellas, backpacks, and coats, Aximili entered and wished Tobias well during his lessons as he sat straight down at the table.  He took the plate with the stacked pancakes, drowned it in syrup and the rest of the toppings, and was already engulfing it by the time we were at the door leading to the garage.

Both Tobias and I shared a mutual smile.

 ****


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting Andalites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of Book 23?

Maybe I had become too lax.  Entirely possible, but let me start at the beginning.  I had just returned from shopping.  Not grocery, but simple shopping that a normal human male would do.  Well, at least human males in venues they wanted to be seen and recognized.  A walk-through of hardware stores, that sort of thing.  Nothing adult.  I never could manage that, even when I was younger.  Especially when I was younger.  One time … well, that is neither here nor there.

As I pulled up to the driveway, I was very surprised to see another car parked, blocking my way to the garage.  And, quite frankly, that annoyed me.  My new car – another Mustang convertible, cost me quite a bit – was not being subjected to the elements. 

Even more surprising was that there was a human inside.  Waiting patiently.  I grew wary.  People did not come to my house and especially when the female was left to her own devices.  I stepped out and cautiously walked to the door.  The human saw me and smiled.

“Hello.”

“Hello?  Are you lost?” I asked politely.

“No.  I’m waiting for someone.”

“In my driveway?”

“She’s inside.”

“Oh.”  Why would he be waiting for Loren – no, wait, Matilda, I mentally corrected, I had to _stop_ these slip-ups – in the driveway?  “Well, would you like to come inside as well?”

The man shook his head and said he was content to wait in the car.  I gave him a strange look, backing away to the front door.  At there, I cast a look over my shoulder at him before I stepped inside.  “Hello?” I called once I made it to the entrance of the living room.

“Alan! You’re home!” she exclaimed, jumping from a chair.  “We have company.”

“Yes, he’s waiting in the car.”

“No, a woman.”

And so I saw.  She, tanned and sun-bleached hair, followed, wearing a casual suit and an absent smile.  Her eyes, though, were eyes of a predator, of a businessperson.  She sized me up as I introduced myself.  “Hello.  Alan Fangor.”

She took my hand.  “Aria Wetmore, of _Claymore Industries_.”

My eyebrows went up in surprise.  _Claymore Industries_ was a very impressive technology and science front, one that Yeerks were recently buying stock in. A glance at Lore – Matilda told me the company meant nothing to her. “Oh, really?  Well,” I chuckled nervously, “what are you doing here?”

“We at _Claymore Industries_ are looking to expand our family.”

For a moment, confusion hit me. It was because of my Andalite heritage.  Such a statement would only be uttered if you were asking a female if she would wish to be your mate.  Then I recalled human colloquialisms.   “I don’t need a job just as this moment.”

“Oh, not you.”  She withdrew a piece of paper from her briefcase.  “I’m looking for Alexander Paul Fangor.”

_Paul?_ I thought stupidly.  His human name was Alexander Philip Fangor.  I had to struggle not to concuss myself.  “That’s my brother.  But he’s not even fifteen years old.  You can’t honestly want to hire him.”

Wetmore smiled.  “Oh, no, we are quite serious.  Your brother is a very brilliant young man.”

He was going to be a very dead young man when I got my tail on him.  “Yes, I know that.”  Of course, brilliant wasn’t the word I would have used.  Idiotic fit better, currently.  “But how do you?”

“Recently we published a problem in a magazine, offering a reward for anyone who could solve it.  Your brother managed it very well.  It was a very difficult problem, advanced in the field.”

Now I had to rethink who I was going to have to kill. Aximili wouldn’t look at a magazine unless it was a food magazine.  And I had a strong feeling _Claymore Industries_ did not put their contests in _Foods_.  “May I see this problem?”

She nodded, dug for another paper, and handed it to me.  It was written in a neat hand, dated and complete.  Not Aximili’s, then.  My brother wrote like a second-grader when he did human letters, trying to imitate human characters while being in conflict with Andalite script.  I looked at the problem and almost laughed.  Of course Aximili could have solved this!  It was a child’s problem, something learned before the tail blade was fully revealed.  I shook my head and looked amused.  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I solved this weeks ago.  Alexander asked me how to do it during … we were eating spaghetti, whatever meal it was.  This is what I specialized in,” I said, handing it back.

Wetmore took it warily, not quite believing me.  I wondered about that.  Personally, if I were a human, I would have believed an adult was capable of the problem, not a fourteen-year-old.  “Are you saying you solved this?”

“I’m sure my brother just wanted the money or car or whatever you were offering.  He didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“You solved this?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Alan’s background is in quantum theory and mechanics,” Matilda said, stepping into the conversation.  “I’m sure that problem was child’s play to him.”

I shook my head. It did not do to appear too smart to other humans; it made them curious. “It took some time to solve.”

Wetmore didn’t look convinced.  “I had hoped to meet your brother to give him another problem to solve.  If you were the one to solve this problem, would you care to look at it?”

“Ms. Wetmore, with all due respect, I have no interest in working for your company.  It would be a waste of my time and yours.  Why don’t you speak with someone else?”

She remained insistent, withdrawing another sheet and holding it out until I took it.  I looked at the problem, face blank.  Another simple problem, for an Andalite, anyway.  I knew the answer, just staring at it.  Almost like asking a human professor the answer to two plus two.

“Is there a time limit?” I asked.  Because I had one that ended in fifteen minutes.

“No, of course not.  Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”

“It’s just down the hall,” Matilda said, and once Wetmore left, she asked me, “How are you doing?”

“I’ll go down to the basement.  When she leaves, call the children.  I am going to kill them.”

“I thought it was Ax –”

I snorted.  “Please.  The type of magazine that would carry this sort of problem would not brandish cinnamon buns on the cover.  No.  And I have to disappear before she gets done.”

I rushed down the steps to the basement, kicking off my shoes and undoing my pants.  Once they were at my ankles, I start demorphing.  I had to take a moment’s breath when I finished, and anyone who looked down would have seen a strange sight – an Andalite wearing a button-down shirt that was too loose in the arms and shoulders, white socks over his back hooves, and pants over said back hooves.  However, it was quicker this way.

Back to human, I readjusted my clothes, then shifted through the boxes, looking for the sweatshirt I had bought.  I needed a reason to be down here, after all.  I found it, an old grey thing with paint stains.  It obviously had been around for a long time, which was what I wanted people to think, that I could have had it when I was a lowly undergraduate.  I pulled it on. Thankfully it was freshly laundered.

I ran up to the steps, and once Matilda saw me, a grin broke out.  “What the hell is that?”

Raising my nose theatrically, I sniffed, “I’ve had this for years, I’ll have you know.  Since I was in college.”

She was amused.  “It looks it.”

I pulled at a raggedy cuff, straightening the sleeve.  “I spent many a night studying with this shirt on.”

Her eyes rolled.  “Sometimes, I think you take things too far.”

“What things?” Wetmore asked, then eyed my sweatshirt with clinical detachedness.  “Are you ready?”

I nodded, taking up a legal pad and calculator, which was for show, anyway.  And under the gaze of two humans, I proceeded to solve the problem, writing down every step possible, pausing five minutes here and there, typing things in the calculator, erasing.  It was utterly disgraceful, but I had done it often in my college classes.  I knew what was expected.

Therefore, fourteen minutes later – exactly, because I was going mad pretending to struggle with this problem – I slid the sheet over to Wetmore, who had been watching me intently the whole time.  With a sigh, I leaned back and watched expectedly as she looked over my work. 

“This is correct.”  Upon my word, she sounded surprised.

I stood up and opened the refrigerator.  “Of course it is.  Isn’t it basic?”  I asked, opening a can of Dr. Pepper.

“Indeed.”  She looked at me speculatively.  “Surely you’d be interested in working for our company, Mr. Fangor.”

“I’m already employed.  By _Forlay_.”

“And what do they do?”

“Computers.”  Eventually, I was going to have to figure out exactly what my made-up company did, aside from giving me a paycheck.  “And the pay is enough for my needs.”

She smiled.  “Well, you’ll have to accept that we’re going to try and tempt you over.  Even steal you, if you can solve works like this.”

“You can try, but I’m pretty content where I am.  Is there anything else?”

Wetmore stood gracefully.  “May I have your number?”

“Umm … very well.” I wrote down the house number and gave her the paper.  She looked at it before slipping it into her pocket. 

“Thank you.”  Her smile widened like a predator’s, and she looked at me strangely.  It made me inexplicably nervous.  “I’ll be in touch.”

My smile twitched, and I had to force it to remain polite.  “I’ll see you to the door.”

“Thank you, Alan.”  She took my unoffered arm and forced my feet to move.  I stared at her in surprise.  This generally did not happen to me.  And she did not let me go until we were at her car.  The man, seeing us, stepped out and opened the door for her.  She did not step in.

“You do have a lovely home, Alan.”

Something strange was going on.  I wasn’t sure what, though a memory niggled in the back of my mind.  “Thank you.”

“You car is also very nice.  A Mustang, yes?”

“Umm, yes.  Not perhaps practical, but I like them.  Well, yes, good day, Ms. Wetmore.”

“Call me Aria, Alan.”

I blinked at her.  This was … odd.  “… As you wish, Ms. We—Aria.”  My tongue fumbled over her name, and I quickly removed my arm from her strong hold.  “Well, have a good day.”

“I will be in touch, Alan,” she repeated, touching my arm, and smiling that odd smile.  “Good bye.”

My head nodded curtly, and once she sat down I shut the door and stepped away.  When Wetmore waved, my hand waved weakly back and I watched the car, scratching my neck and feeling all the world like a rabbit in front of a wolf.  And when I turned, I saw why.  Matilda was leaning against the door jam, arms crossed, and glaring at me.

“Congratulations,” she said sarcastically as I moved back to the home.  She sounded angry and I didn’t understand why, or her statement.

“What?”  She looked at me full on the face and I felt … scared, perhaps.  But I shoved that aside and move past her.  “Excuse me.  I have to plan some murders.”

Matilda made a comment my weak ears couldn’t hear completely, but it sounded like she was insulting my intelligence.

 ****

After scolding the children for the better part of an hour, in my Andalite form, no less, I dismissed them like the underlings that they were supposed to be.  Curtly.  I did not listen to their excuses past hearing them.  The plan was illogically thought out, and it made my life difficult.  Now I had an executive of a company trying to hire me.  Who knew where I lived, had my phone number.

And used it three days after her visit.

I let the machine get it.  I was in my room, hunting Yeerk business in my Andalite form.  I had a basin of water and was drinking periodically.  When the phone rang, I had no interest to morph human for the likely telemarketer on the other end.

It had been a trying three days since her visit.  We had gone the hospital, where a human was comatose, a very important human named Aldershot.  It had been theorized that perhaps, if we had his DNA, we would admit the truth to other important humans.

It was a method that the humans were sure would succeed.  Have either Aximili or myself demorph in front of important people, show them Andalites, and hence aliens exist.  Tell them about the invasion.  While promising, I was leery of using such an endeavor.  If whom we showed was already a Controller, it was instant capture.  Such a move would also make the Yeerks more likely for a direct attack, not this subterfuge they were currently employing.  The humans would easily lose if such a thing happened, lose far more quickly than they already were.  And finally, I (because I would not let Aximili do such a dangerous, foolish, career-damaging action) would be responsible for telling humans about Andalites.  The High Command would not approve.  At all.  I can imagine their punishments.

However, there was no reason to at least not start the plan.  It would make the children quiet and could act as a minor training mission, because in my opinion they needed more training.  While I was on principle against using deadly missions as educational practices, it was all I had.  There was no reason for me to tell them this, though, and I could always make them fully aware of their plan’s folly later.  Sort of grade it, even.

Cassie suggested that mosquitoes could be used to get the DNA.  With my chip, I hadn’t liked the idea of sitting out, but the room was guarded by Controllers.  Someone had to draw their attention.  I chose myself, as it was far more dangerous than becoming a mosquito, or so I thought.

Apparently, and I am not quite sure I even believe this – well, of course I do, but it truly is unbelievable – the children, Matilda, and Aximili were drawn into Z-space by Andalite Dome Ship!  Impossible, I said, shocked at all of their responses, their stories, eyes wide.  However, I had to believe them, because, well, for one, they all did have the same story.  An infeasible story, but consistent.  And believe me, I tried to find the inconsistencies.

They would not tell me much of what happened, which annoyed me.  Oh, they told me about the loss of the ship _Ascalin_ , betrayal of Captain Samilin, which I could hardly comprehend.  I knew Samilin, fought alongside him.  For him to be a traitor … I would have said impossible, but it seemed that the impossible was very possible lately.  And the fight on Leeran, the battles. 

Yes, they told me all that, but they didn’t tell me everything.  All of them turned evasive at parts, looked away from my gaze as if embarrassed.  Like they all knew a secret but refused to tell me, a secret that maybe dealt with me.

Once I put a little thought into it, it wasn’t very difficult to hypothesize a reason.  They were among Andalites.  I gave them the morphing ability.  No doubt I was formally disgraced.  They were trying to spare my feelings.

That’s what I thought, anyway.  And, while their motive was nice, I did not like it.  My status as Prince was not important, not if Earth was in danger.  I would do it again, and again, no matter what. Where was the exalted honor in defending and fighting if the honor needed to be protected by not allowing another to fight and defend?

As such, I was in an ill mood.  And when it turned out it was Wetmore’s voice on the machine, asking if I had reconsidered her offer, I had no ambition to reach for the phone.  Especially since, if I had not decided to accept her offer, she’d love to try and convince me of my folly.  To call her back.  Her number.  Where she was staying.

I shook my head.  Damn children.  I did not need this added problem.

Later, I realized I should have just erased her message, because when the children and Matilda came, they saw the light flashing.  Played the message.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Marco hadn’t known about the Yeerk interest in the company, if Jake hadn’t asked if it was wise not to know what they were doing with Yeerk interest on them.  Matilda hadn’t said anything, just looked angry, and Cassie amused at what Wetmore had said.  So did Rachel and Tobias.  Aximili, still embarrassed at his part of this problem, remained neutral to my choice of actions.

Part of me had the theory they were still angry at my “grading” of their last mission. 

In the end, I declared that if Wetmore called again, I would then concede to start the investigation they thought so very important.  If she called again.  On my honor.

She called me two days after that.  Again the machine caught it.  Matilda told me, and I stared at the blinking light.

“If you don’t want to, I won’t tell anyone she called again,” she said after a few minutes.

Tempting, but no.  “I gave them my word,” I said tonelessly and listened to the message.  Memorized the number and dialed. 

A male picked up the phone and sounded irritated.  “Hello?”

I wondered if I had dialed the wrong number.  “Hello.  Mm … I’m Alan Fangor.  I was trying to reach a Ms. Aria Wetmore?”

The man took a breath.  “Ah, Mr. Fangor.  We have been waiting for your call for some time now.”

“Yes.  Is this a bad time?” _Please say yes_.

“Oh, no, just let me get Ms. Wetmore.”

I raised my head and looked to the ceiling, leaning against the wall.  Someone hated me; it was clear. Waiting for the woman and hearing only faint conversations in the background, I examined the leaves of a plant, feeling the smooth green.  There were many plants scattered around my home, a weakness of mine.  Whenever I saw one I liked, I bought it.  True, some I killed in short order, but many flourished, and it added something to the house, something that soothed the Andalite part of me. 

“It’s about time you returned my calls, Alan.”

I jumped.  “Umm, yeah, sorry out that, Ms. Wetmore.”

“I am not a patient woman.”

“And I am not an interested man.”  Somehow that sounded better in my head than out my mouth.  “I mean, honestly I probably wouldn’t have ever called you back, but then that meant you’d probably just keep calling.  But, Ms. Wetmore, I really am not interested.”

“I told you to call me Aria.  And I think you are.”

“No, I’m not.  I am very happy where I am.”

“Yes.  We looked into this company, _Forlay_.”

My stomach fell.  I had just finished fine-tuning details after she left, in case they did this.  And this was the test.

“Not much on it.”

I swallowed.  “It’s a company you have to be referred to, Ms. Wetmore.”

“Aria.”

Ignoring the correction, I said, “We enjoy the autonomy and umm, anonymity.”

“Do you?”  Wetmore paused.  “Alan, you’ll find I can be very persistent.  And I always get what I want.”

“Maybe.”  Remembering the promise to the children, I suggested diplomatically, “Ms. Wetmore, how about we arrange a business meeting?  You may attempt to persuade me at this time with all your benefits and fine promises, and I will honestly listen.  However, I still reserve the ability to turn you down.”

“With such a reasonable request, how can I turn you down?  Do you have any date in mind?”

“Two days, the Monday, one o’clock.  Where, you decide.”

“The hotel I’m staying at has lovely meeting rooms, a restaurant as well.”

“Very well.”  She gave me the address.  “Then Monday, one o’clock.”

“Yes.  I can’t wait to see you, Alan.”

“Yes.  Good bye.”  I hung up before hearing her reply.

“Do you have a date with the Wicked Witch?” Matilda asked sarcastically.

I frowned at it.  “It’s not a date.”

She turned away from me.  “Of course not.”

 ****

It was a nice hotel.  A young man drove my car away and gave me a stub.  If I had known that was going to happen, I would have parked my car a block away and walked.  So I am protective of my Mustang, but I also was going to have to examine the car for any sort of tracking equipment, human or Yeerk.

It’s not being paranoid if they really are after you.

I entered the hotel and asked the receptionist to call up Wetmore and tell her I had arrived. Then I waited stupidly for five minutes until Wetmore exited an elevator with two suits behind her.  When she spotted me, a smile went across her face and she quickened her step to me, hand outstretched.  “I see you’ve made it, Alan.”

“We did have an appointment, Ms. Wetmore,” I said, looking at the suits.  “And who are your friends?”

“I’ve told you, call me Aria.  And these gentlemen are just going to help me convince you to join us.”

I attempted to joke. “Not by beating me up, I hope.”  They were very large men.

Her smiled widened.  “We’ll just have to see, Alan.  Follow me.”

The meeting was taking place in a private conference room that overlooked the back park.  Wetmore and her associates took seats at one end, and I sat a few seats away, since sitting at the very other end would have probably made this very difficult.  However, Wetmore soon ordered me to move to the seat next to her.  “You won’t be able to see or hear anything so far away.”

“I have excellent hearing and eyesight,” I said but obeyed.

Wetmore looked at me as if she had won a major battle.  “Then let’s get started.”

She told me the specifics of the company, the benefits I would receive, the pay, the hours, the wonderful challenges, and everything else that would or should entice me.  Maybe if I was human, if I needed the job, if I wasn’t fighting Yeerks, it would have.  But it didn’t.

I listened politely, made a few token comments and jokes, but remained detached.  Wetmore must have seen it wasn’t working, because her smile turned forced, she became more determined.  She kept drawing my attention by touching my hand, arm as she stated her case, and once her hand touched my knee as she pleaded her case.  I had jumped a little at that contact because I hadn’t been expecting it, and I admit I paid more attention to the hand than what she was saying.  Was it getting closer to my thigh?

Whatever I didn’t need at the moment, a troublesome human male libido was one of them!

“So what do you say, Alan?”

I tried to smile.  “Ms. Wetmore – Aria, as tempting as your offer is, I’m still afraid I must politely decline.”  I tried to subtly push off her hand, but it refused to budge.  I had fallen out of my area of expertise in human behavior, unsure of how to get it removed without being rude or embarrassing.  “ _Forlay_ really is like home to me.”

“Such loyalty.”

“They’ve earned it.  Yes.  Besides, I don’t think I’m made for the number-crunching world.”

“Isn’t that what you do at _Forlay_ , Alan?”

I tried to chuckle.  “Oh, no.  They keep me a bit more on my toes than that.  Honestly, Ms. Wetmore, if I probably took another job, they might have to kill me.”

She raised a brow.  “Really?”

“Yes.  We’re a pretty hush-shush group.”  I attempted a winning smile, but I probably looked sick.  The hand was getting to be very distracting.

“What exactly do you do?”

“Whatever I’m told, ma’am.”  I cleared my throat.  “And could you –”

I didn’t finish my request because suddenly my cell phone rang.  It surprised everyone.  Wetmore pull away and the suits jumped up.

“Just my phone.  I’ll get it.”  I carefully withdrew the phone and waved it, lest they shoot me.

“Just a minute.”  I checked the number.  Home phone.  Thank the stars.  “Fangor.”

“We need milk.  Pick some up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What?”

“I understand.  I’ll leave immediately.”

“Just get the damn milk.  And some chips.”

“The usual, yes, of course, Sir.  I’ll make sure it all works perfectly for them.”

“Oh, yes, your _date_.  How is that going?”

I frowned again.  “Fine.  And it’s not –” I caught myself.  “Good bye, sir.”  I hung up and quickly stood.  “Sorry to cut this short, but, speak of the devil, that was my boss.  I have to leave town for a little while.”

Wetmore leaned back.  “Business?”

“Yes.  Anyway, a pleasure listening and meeting you, but I have to leave, or it’s my head.”

“Alan, our meeting isn’t over.”

I shrugged.  “I’m sorry, Ms. Wetmore, but when they say, jump, they want me jumping five minutes before they gave the order.  I really have to leave.”

“Well, we’ll just have to reschedule, won’t we,” she said, standing.

I paused and looked at her.  “Ms. Wetmore, I have declined your offer.”

“Perhaps.  Call me when you get back to town.  I will expect it.  We can continue our meeting then.”

“The meeting is over.”

She laughed.  “Alan, nothing is over until I say it is.  You may leave.”

I hastily bid good-bye and went to retrieve my car.  Damn!  Not that I was upset to leave the meeting early, quite the contrary, but I wanted things done with this human.  She unnerved me with this hunting.

I barely remembered to get the milk and chips, and in the aisle, it came to me to wonder why I had to buy more of the beverage.  Hadn’t I bought some two days ago?  I chased the curiosity away, because there was no way we could have gone though a gallon in that amount of time.  The refrigerator, once I got home, showed no sign of the jug, so I probably imaged purchasing it. 

I spent the evening checking the Mustang.  I found nothing.  I think I would have preferred it if I had.

 ****

It was late when Aximili and I returned from nothing more strenuous than surveillance.  I should stress, though, that while there had been minimal danger in following a Controller – to _nowhere!_ It was almost like waste of time, but I wouldn’t ever say that – even the most dangerous battles start with simple maneuvers.  While I honestly did not expect danger from Wetmore, I was curious about Controllers that _did_ meet her and her goons.  Sometimes, it would be nice if the Yeerks could plan their troubles on a nine-to-five schedule.  It’d be even nicer if they took a vacation.

It would also be nice if the _Hork-Bajir_ took one as well. I had realized Toby Hamee was going to be trouble when we first spoke, but her goal in freeing the rest of her species put all of us in danger. The gradual increase in Hork-Bajir in the valley did not escape my notice, and Toby Hamee had given me an almost challenging glare when I made the point. Perhaps it is cruel for me to wish her not to do so, but this was beyond dangerous. It was only luck -- pure, simple luck! -- that the little Hork-Bajir had been caught by his family before he had ventured too close to the Yeerk compound. If he had been captured, all of us would have been in danger.

Even though Toby Hamee promised to watch her people better, it did not sit well with me. This time, it had been a young child, a child who had been noticed missing before it was too late. Even if he had been captured, we would have been lucky. The Yeerks wouldn't have taken such a young host, and if they had, the little one wouldn't have been able to tell the way back. (However, he might have noticed that _humans_ visited his home.) But _next time_ , what if one of the adults were taken and re-infested? The game, as the humans say, would have been over.

I only hoped Toby Hamee realized this, especially after this fiasco. Even if she's a Seer, she is young, and the young can be blind. I had enough trouble taking care of humans; I did not need to pick up the slack in caring for her charges as well.

Upon entering, I was surprised to see and hear the TV still on.  Given the monotone show that seemed to be on, I wondered why would the female have bothered to wait up for us.  Oh, that would be why.  She hadn’t.

“Is Loren—”

“Shh,” I hushed Aximili, moving aside so he could see her and so I could grab the remote and turn the television off.  I had to step over Champ, who merely raised his head to loll his tongue at me. 

‹Shouldn’t humans sleep in their beds?› my brother asked.

‹In theory, but some humans can sleep anywhere.›  I sighed and gave a small smile.  Humans could look almost adorable when they sleep.  By adorable, I do mean ridiculous.  Imagine, they were helpless, and didn’t even keep a single eye open.  ‹Come on, assist me.›

‹Do wha—›  Aximili lost his thought, and when I turned around, he looked surprised. 

‹What is it?›

He stared at me for a bit longer until he regained his senses, though he still looked at me a little strangely.  ‹Is it hard to carry a human?›

‹It required a bit of practice, I suppose,› I said dubiously.  ‹And a bit of common sense on what the human body can lift. ›  I moved past him, carrying Matilda.  Champ darted in front of me and up the stairs.  I suppose if he had been a less trained dog, he could have tripped me, but he knew better than to tangle himself in my legs.

‹What are you doing?› Aximili asked, following me.

‹Tucking her into bed.›

‹Wouldn’t it be easier to wake her?›

‹Yes, and it’d be less considerate.›

‹Oh.›

It was not long before I realized I probably should have just woken her, because humans – full-grown ones – are not light things to carry.  (I, of course, am smart enough to _not_ say this to certain individuals.)  Going up steps made it even more difficult, but there was no point in stopping now.

At her door, I asked Aximili to open it and then to turn down the covers.

‹‘Turn down the covers’?› he repeated.

I sighed.  ‹Pull the covers back,› I explained, ‹so I can cover her up so she won’t get chilled.›

Aximili moved around me and took care of the covers, and he stepped back and watched me intently.  I ignored him, setting Matilda gently down and pulling the blanket over her.  She shifted a bit and my hand rose on its own.  I stopped it from stroking her hair, though it probably hung suspended for a moment. I quickly set it down and stood up.  Looking across the bed, Aximili was still staring at me.

‹Let’s go,› I said, turning to leave.  Aximili followed me quickly.  I left the door open a few inches, so Champ could leave when he wished.  Again, Aximili was watching me, and I gave him an exasperated look.  ‹Would you like me to prepare you anything to eat before you go to the forest?›

There was a very strong look of indecision on his face, and I had to smile.

 ****

It became part of my routine, avoiding Wetmore.  She had to call me at least two or three times before I would call back.  We met weekly, in the least, at some diner or restaurant.  Ate Dutch, upon my insistence.  A few times I brought Aximili with, as a sort of buffer.  He wasn’t very good, to be honest.  In fact, he was awful.

But, with all the meetings, I remained firm in my declining of the job.  And she remained persistent.  It was all a matter of who would break first.

I tried to learn about the company, the jobs they were on.  Tried to see why the Yeerks would be interested.  To see if Wetmore herself was a Controller.  I wasn’t sure, myself.  The children had done surveillance and felt confident that she wasn’t.  Their naivete annoyed me.  Perhaps at that time, but that was the thing about Controllers.  They could spring up at any time.

_The Sharing_ was only brought up once in our company, and Wetmore astutely steered clear of it after my reaction.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to think about the situation.  Of course the Yeerks would be interested in _Claymore Industries_ , if only for the mere fact that everything was cutting-edge.  I said as much to Matilda one day, off hand, and she said back, “Then stop seeing her.”

“This human is persistent.  I’ve tried.”

Matilda rolled her eyes.  “Sure you have.”

I glared at her tone.  “Besides, I promised the children I would.”

“And you just have to listen to them!”

I wanted to ask why she was angry with me but didn’t.  I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.  So, instead I said, “Ms. Wetmore has gotten us reservations about sixty miles away, towards the capitol.  Apparently she dines there often when she had to commute.”

“That’s a drive.”

I nodded.  Yes.  Not outside the time limit, but long.  “She must be ready to call it quits on me, if Wetmore is giving up her hotel room.”

That’s what I kept telling myself anyway.

“Lovely rooms in that hotel.”

“I wouldn’t know.  I haven’t seen them.”  Despite her entreaties, I had only escorted Wetmore to the elevator.  I didn’t like elevators.  They were too cramp for my Andalite claustrophobia.

Matilda snorted.  “Of course not.”

I didn’t like the tone.  It made me feel like I was doing something wrong, but I had no idea what it was.  “I’ll be out late.  Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t.”

 ****

The dinner was delicious.  There was no other word for it.  It was a meal Andalites would have killed for.  The conversation was okay as well.  Wetmore spoke and laughed and I genuinely believe I had a good time.  For once it didn’t seem like she was trying to hire me.  

I had only a few sips of the wine, for the spirit of it.  I was driving as well as in morph.  I could not permit myself to become inebriated. 

I had been wrong about the location of the restaurant, or, more correctly, misinformed.  More bluntly, Wetmore had lied.  It wasn’t in the direction of the capitol, but forty minutes the other way.  Still, it was nice, the food good, so I did not hold the grudge too long.  Except for the fact that the hunt was probably still on.

Before we left, I demorphed.  It was a longer process because of the suit I wore, to make sure it was wrinkle-free, the tie was straight.  So much more.  After that I met her at the exit and escorted her to my Mustang. 

“I had a lovely time, Alan,” she said, clinging to my arm.

“Yes, so have I.”

“You sound surprised.”

I smiled, lowering my gaze to the ground.  “I am.  I do not have such pleasant dinners, usually.”

Wetmore smiled.  “I’m glad to be one to give it to you.  You should have let me pay for everything.”

“No.  No.  I always pay my way.”

She laughed.  It was a nice sound.  “Then you could have paid my way, as well.”

“If you had asked.”

We were at my Mustang, near the edge of the lot.  The moon, large, cast enough light to see by.  However, it did not give me enough light to see someone step from the shadows and jab something in my neck.  A gun.

“Give me your wallet.”

I froze, and I could see Wetmore turning her head, shocked.  “What do you –”

The assailant wasn’t alone.  Another grabbed Wetmore’s arm and threw her to the side of the car.  “Shut up!  Give us the money or the bitch gets it!”

I spoke calmly.  “All right, all right, we don’t want any trouble.  I’m getting my wallet.”  My hand moved slowly and I carefully withdrew the bound leather.  I held it up in the air, and it was snatched away.

“Get the keys!  This ride’s sweet.”

My jaw might have dropped.  They wanted to _steal_ my car?!  My _car_!  _My_ _Mustang_!  “You’re not stealing my car!” I protested, quite ready to attempt to punch one of them for such impertinence.

And then the gun dug deeper into my neck, stopping my movements.  I winced, looking down at Wetmore, who was glaring daggers at the man pointing a gun at her as well.  She had been relieved of her purse.  I gritted my teeth when I felt my assailant’s hands going through my pockets, looking for the key.

“Should we kill them?”  A rhetorical question, it sounded like.

“It’s not _stealing_ if the owner’s dead, I wager,” one joked.

“Got ‘em.”

I clenched my fists, looking at the ring of keys to many of my belongings.  I was not going to die by a stupid human!  I wasn’t –

Suddenly I felt wings beating against my head, heard the man scream in pain as an owl swooped down, snatching the gun and scarring the human.  One of the children!  The other man rushed to assist his friend, but as he moved towards me, my fist shot out, catching him in the jaw and knocking him to the ground.  And if might have been petty, but I delivered a good kick of the one who grabbed my keys after I retrieved them while one of the children distracted another hoodlum.  Then I grabbed Wetmore by the arm, wretched her up.

“Come on!” I yelled, tossing her into the car and starting it.  I shifted it into gear and drove away, fast, and as I drove, I heard gunfire follow.  “Are you all right?”

Wetmore was glaring, looking behind.  “Those – they don’t know who they’re messing with.”

“You’re not hurt?” I repeated, getting on the main road, daring to slow down.

Her eyes were hard.  “No.  And that bird –”

“ _When Animals Attack_ , huh?”  Though part of me was grateful one of the children had followed me, another severely wanted to scold them for doing so without my permission.

She glared at me.  “Yeah, isn’t it?”

I shook my head at her and drove on.  My knuckles on my right hand were bleeding from the punch.  It would have been nice if she had asked how I was.  I was robbed as well, after all.

“Alan, I think you’re being followed.”

“What?” I looked in the mirror and saw headlights coming up on us.  “Nah, probably not.  Just someone wanting to get home.”

Even still, I turned into a different road and watched the lights.  They followed, and I made other unnecessary turns and circles.  They followed, and they got closer.  Two vehicles. 

I frowned and put the Mustang into a higher gear.  “Hold on.”

Even as I sped up, so did our chasers.  I practically jumped when I heard gunfire.

“They’re shooting at us,” Wetmore said darkly.

“You know how to shoot a gun?” I said slowly, reaching over to the glove box with a key I pulled from the visor.  The children didn’t know about this.  Once opened, I pulled the gun out.

Wetmore took it.  “I think I can manage.” 

The shots from our pursuers kept sounding, and then Wetmore shot back.  Swift, assured shots.  I drove into the back roads.  Lost.  But I kept driving, weaving, making turns.  I knew what I was doing.  After years of piloting Andalite fighters, manipulating a Mustang was no challenge.  And secretly I had always wanted to drive like this.

“Would you keep this thing steady!” Wetmore yelled at me, falling against me.

“Don’t point the gun at me!” 

Suddenly I heard a bullet hit the metal, go through the metal of the car.  Another made it through the glass of a window, sending shards flying.  One caught Wetmore on the hand, and in pain she dropped the gun by my feet.

I had to slow down to get the gun.  We were on a straight path, no turns.  Then, with the gun in my hand, I leaned out the window and shot.  Only a few, and then I was out of bullets.

“Get me another clip, in the glove box,” I ordered, calm, dropping the spent one.  Wetmore obeyed sloppily, and, after my order for her to keep the car steady, I leaned out the window again.  Shot.  Guns weren’t as accurate as Andalite weapons, but they could be good enough.  And I slowed down, enough to get them in my sights, though I internally winced at the sound of gears grinding.  “Keep down!”

“What?  Why are you slowing down?!”

“I know what I’m doing!  Now get down!”

Slower, we were an easier target, and I saw them.  Trucks, oddly painted with strange emblems.  Gangs, perhaps.  Didn’t think there were any in this area.  Must have come for some easy pickings.

I took aim and fired for the tires.  I didn’t want to hurt them.  I shot three before the truck swerved.  A hit. I shot for the windshield, a high hit, because, even though these humans were targeting me, I felt no pressing desire to kill them.  Got the glass easily, and the truck veered into the ditch.

One down.

I dived back in and put in another clip, stepping on the gas harder and dealing with the gears, ducking instinctively as more shots hit the Mustang, caused glass to fly.  This was getting personal.

I turned and shot out the back window, straight for the other windshield.  Easily done.  

Perhaps they realized we weren’t easy pickings, because they were slowing down.  I didn’t waste the shots, turning my attention to driving, the speed.  I kept driving, somehow managed to get onto a freeway.  Kept the speed up.  If a cop pulled me over, all the better.

“You’ve done that before.”

I looked over at Wetmore, who was looking at me curiously.  The lights from passing cars didn’t give me enough light to see her fully.  I turned my gaze to the gun in my hand.  “Yes.”

“That is your job at _Forlay_?”

I didn’t answer.  Instead, I looked at my gas gage, then the road signs.  It took me a while to realize I was heading the wrong way.

“We need to get gas.  And talk with the police.” I pulled onto an off-ramp.

Wetmore didn’t respond, still looking at me.

We rode in silence, and when I pulled into a station, I got to a pump.

“You don’t have any money, remember.  You were robbed.”

“I have money.  Go talk to the attendant.  Call the police.”

She didn’t listen, following me out the car and to the trunk.  My hand ghosted over the bullet holes and I sighed.  Car accidents, attempted robbery, gunfire.  Maybe if I just didn’t have a Mustang these things wouldn’t happen.  Even still.  I opened the trunk and looked for the money I had stashed in there.  Five hundred dollars, for emergencies.  Clothing for the children and myself.  First aid kit.  Blankets.  I took them out, gave it to Wetmore.  “Take care of yourself.  I’ll talk with everyone.” Wetmore didn’t move, staring at me curiously.  “What?” I snapped, not feeling like repeating my orders or being disobeyed.

“Nothing,” she said, still looking at me.

I softened my tone, realizing she must be in shock, and guided her back to the seat.  “Just wait here.  Everything will be all right, now.”

Wetmore smiled slightly, amused, and allowed me to do the necessary things, like calling the police and taking care of the car. As our statements were taken, I doubted if the police had any reason to believe us, except for the weight of Wetmore’s word.  As time passed, I grew antsy with my time limit drawing to a close and, too close for my comfort, managed to sneak into the bathroom and demorph.  I had to rest for several minutes, leaning against the sink, to think. 

I stared at myself in the mirror for a bit, not out of any vanity or such nonsense.  How often did I see myself as an Andalite?  Not entirely often, and I compared it to my human form.  My human head was broader, with more chin on it than my triangular Andalite skull.  Eyes larger, more slanted than the human, designed for a life as prey.  Odd, though, that the brow seemed about equal.  My eye color I had purposefully kept as close as the human iris could achieve, back when I had acquired the humans that made up this morph.  The DNA sequence had come from an old woman, long dead now except as part of me.  I had seen her eyes when I had been in flight and had been determined to have them.  Something close to my Andalite form.  It had been one of the few things I consciously controlled during the _Frolis Maneuver_ , along with my sex and age.  The rest did not matter to me then, though now I wished I had chosen a better nose.  Something flatter.  Human noses are ugly things, mine especially. 

Once several minutes passed, I shook myself from the reverie and returned back to my human morph.  Watched as my features changed.  Grotesque, as always, but fascinating.  Especially a point almost directly between the two forms, where you had to keep going one way or another.  Foolish _aristh_ s under my command years ago asked me why morphs weren’t combined, and I told them to try.  Once the doctors revived them, (and I was given a bit of scolding, though the captain thought it just as humorous; that had been a challenge, both of us trying to keep a straight face as he reprimanded me,) they never asked again.  I had made my point.  Physics and biology made their point.  You cannot be two things at once.  You never will survive.  And you look sickening.

I rejoined Wetmore after calling for a taxi, smiling at her barbed comments.  When the vehicle arrived, I said, “Let us get you home, Ms. Wetmore.”

She looked at me strangely but sat in the car when I opened the door.  I took a walk around my Mustang, which the police said they were going to examine, though I couldn’t imagine for what, to take final assessment of the damage and sighed, wondering how difficult it was to remove bullet holes from metal.  If it would be more practical to just buy another new one.

In the taxi I told the driver the address and we rode in silence, for the most part.  When we arrived at Wetmore’s hotel, I politely escorted her to the elevator.

“It was an exciting night, Alan,” she smiled, pushing the button.

I twitched a smile.  “Excitement I could well do without.  Good evening, Ms. Wetmore.”

“After such a hectic adventure, you should at least accompany me to my room,” she scolded, gripping my arm and well dragging me into the elevator.  I watched, panicked, as the doors shut on us.  Too small, too close.  Wetmore still held my arm.  “There’s a good gentleman.”

I struggled to control my fear.  It had taken me months to manage it when I first became a _nothlit_.  Months, and even then I still needed Loren to hold my hand and speak to me calmly.  Returning to Andalite, being Andalite for these many years, had negated that progress.  In fact, it made it worse, because as a _nothlit_ I had been forced to adapt, to become numb to human experiences.  There had been no reprieve.  Now, I returned to Andalite, stayed Andalite.  There was no steady influence of human experiences on me.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m just … a touch claustrophobic,” I admitted slowly. 

Wetmore laughed and I felt my face heat up both in embarrassment and anger.  Embarrassment because it was such a stupid fear, and anger because she laughed.  Loren had never laughed at me.  Never.  “Such a surprise, you are, Alan.”

I made a noise.  All I wanted at the moment was for the doors to open, for air to come in.  My eyes stayed on the blinking numbers signaling the floor.  Finally it stopped and I waited expectantly for the doors to open.  But they didn’t, and I realized Wetmore had pushed the stop button.  “Ms. Wetmore?”

She made no response, except to push me against the wall and suddenly kiss me.  Hard and deep.  The sort of kissing I would never engage any human other than my Loren in.  And I stood, shocked, hands gripping the elevator railing.

Yes, it was pleasurable.  I will not deny that, and for a second I did almost lose myself enough to join in.  Kissing is very intimate, especially to a creature that normally has no mouth.  But no, I didn’t.  Just stood like a fool until I gathered my thoughts to push her away.  “I believe I have made myself clear on some things, Ms. Wetmore.”

Wetmore frowned at me.  “I am not used to being denied.”

“And I am not used to repeating myself.  My answer is no.  To everything.”  I pushed the button to get the elevator moving again, and within a few seconds the lift stopped and doors opened.

“Good evening and good bye, Ms. Wetmore.”

“Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

I repeated my words and made her leave, the doors closing on her angry face.  The elevator returned to the ground floor and I, to the taxi.  It took me to my home and I paid him with the money I had retrieved in the trunk of my car.  And some large tip, because he did have to drive back to his own city, and someone deserved to have a nice night.  I waved politely as he drove away.

When I turned around, I was surprised to see Matilda standing at the door, walking towards me.  I was surprised she was still awake.  It was after midnight.  She said she wouldn’t wait up.

“What happened?  Where’s your car?”

I waved away her concerns, didn’t respond.  It had been a long, annoying night, and I just wanted to demorph and go to sleep. 

She followed me.  “Elfangor!  Tell me.  Did any of the bullets hit you?”

I stopped and turned slowly.  “How did you know?”  But I already knew the answer.  “It was you.  You were the owl.  Not one of the children.  You.”

At least she had the decency not to deny it.

“Why?”

Matilda’s face was red.  “It was a damn-good thing I did!  You would have been killed!”

My fists were clenched.  “Why?  Why did you follow me?” She had to have.  I hadn’t known that was the restaurant until I picked up Wetmore.  “You were spying on me!”  That made me angry, far angrier than if it had just been one of the children.  I don’t rightly know why, but it did.

“I was watching your back! Someone had to, with you mooning over her.  You were taking—”

“Mooning over her?!” I yelled, enraged, then laughed bitterly.  “Are all humans so pathetic?”

“Pathetic?  You want to see pathetic, you arrogant, four-eyed freak?  Try looking in a mirror.”

I don’t know what I said back, or what Matilda responded, but there, in the driveway, we screamed at each other, shouted obscenities and derogatory comments.  For once I didn’t monitor what left my mouth, and perhaps she didn’t either.  Maybe I just needed to let out my emotions in ways never approved by Andalites. 

Maybe we would have screamed until dawn, but Aximili, human and barefoot and wearing only his morphing outfit, ran from the house.  “Why are you yelling?  What is wrong?”

“It’s none of your concern!” I shouted at him.

“Don’t yell at him!” Matilda scolded me.

“I’ll yell at him if I want to!  You stay out of this!”

“You stupid, over-bearing –”

“Please, stop,” Aximili interjected, pleading.  “Elfangor, Loren, please, you don’t want this.”

“Don’t want what?” I demanded of him, pushing past Matilda. “Tell me, Aximili.”  I kept speaking.  Aximili, full of his impenitent gazes, wavering loyalties, arrogant Andalite manner.  “Tell me.”

He was scared; I was scaring him.  No doubt I would have scared myself, had I seen me.  But no.  And I didn’t care, even as my brother backed away from me.  Yet he was brave enough to answer, even in a whisper.  “Elfangor, she’s your mate.”

Another time I would have wondered how he knew, how he figured it out.  I had been so very careful to not let the children know.  However, that question didn’t come to me then, because Aximili could not have said anything more painful, couldn’t have hurt me more if he had cut me with his tail.  “Mate?” I laughed dryly, derisively.  “Mate?  My mate, is that what she is?  I haven’t seen her in over eighteen years!  She remembers nothing of me, of anything!  My mate is gone, is dead and buried in time!”

“No, no, that’s not true.  It is –”

“Do not be such a child!” I snapped, cutting him off.  I knew what he was going to say, the stupid things Andalite parents tell their children about love.  Once I even believed them.  “This is real life.  This is war, a war that has taken everything from me that mattered!  I’ve lost my home, my wife, my son, my morals, and ethics because of it!  Do you know how many innocents I’ve killed in my tenure, how much I’ve had to mutate myself to even survive in this war with a shred of sanity?  And you come to me and tell me to embrace a ghost, as if I’m going to delude myself again!  The past is the damned past, Aximili,” I said, shoving him away violently, not so very hard but with his lack of human balance he fell to the ground, “so let it and me rest in peace!”

I went inside and then up to my room, muscles shaking.  I slammed the door and screamed.  Broke the lamp by the bed.  None of it helped and I collapsed to my knees, suddenly too tired to go on.  This had not been a pleasant night.  I shed the clothes, let them lie where they landed before demorphing back to a form where all my anger and confusion and pain would have to hide behind a military mask.

Sleep.  That is what I needed.  Even as I heard Matilda and my brother enter the home, I drifted off.  The only oblivion I could allow myself.

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember, this ended a touch darker when I wrote it initially. Though it stayed for a long time, I changed it because I didn't think Elfangor would have those sort of thoughts because he is, as he puts in, optimistic. Andalites allegedly are, or at least they are very good at burying and distracting themselves.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some ... Little Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 24

The next morning I woke feeling refreshed.  Why, I hadn’t thought to question, but I felt decidedly lighter in spirit.  I morphed to my human visage and hummed a strange little tune, cleaned up the broken lamp, took a shower, not usually something I carried so far.  But it was good, felt good to stand under the steaming water, even when the shampoo stung my eyes.  Refreshing, even.

I wondered if my mood was because I had screamed myself hoarse last night.  It must have been; bottling emotions was never good for a person.  Best to get them out, especially at people who were very vexing, I thought, examining a bar of soap before I applied it to my body.  True, I didn’t quite remember what I said, but I was tired of Matilda’s comments and behavior towards me, tired of Aximili’s manner.  No doubt I was tired of the human children as well, would have screamed them had they been present, but not so much as the other two.

Of course, there would be repercussions.  I was not so foolish as to not realize that.  However, at the moment they were distant promises and not very important.  What would be said?  Matilda and I would continue to tiptoe around each other, though perhaps, hopefully, she would be politer in her speech to me.  My relationship with Aximili was, no doubt, for the time being precarious.  Perhaps even time would not mend the breech, but what could I do to remedy the situation?  Apologize, perhaps, but I was not really very sorry.  I was tired of his looks, his actions, almost as much as I was with the children. Andalite warriors do not act as such with their superiors! 

Maybe I was becoming unbalanced, I mused jovially.  Entirely probable, because, for one, I was contemplating such a thing jovially.  Between being in charge of children and having to make sure they were never in too much danger – I would never forgive myself if one of them died on my watch – was it any wonder?  To deal with their petty problems and complaints?  And to be on Earth, with all of the baggage it held for me? 

Yes, perhaps what I did need was a vacation.  But no, this was war; no vacations until it was over. 

Of course, even warriors got leave …

It was tempting.  I could go to Yellowstone – I had pleasant memories of there.  No, that was not wise.  It was better to go somewhere where I had no memories, memories which would only depress and wear me back down.  Somewhere else … Hawaii, maybe.  Colorado, even, to get rid of the less pleasant memories of when I attempted to learn how to ski.  I was lucky I hadn’t broken my leg.

I sighed, tossing out the pleasant ideas.  It was not to be.  I turned off the water and left the shower, dried myself with a towel, wrapped it about myself for my learned human modesty. 

Today, I decided, I would relax.  I deserved it.  After all, I had been shot at last night.

I dressed in a pair of sweats and went downstairs to find a second bit of good news, that there was no one else in the house.  It was a bit of a surprise, but it is my own fault.  Normally I would have woke earlier, with the dawn.  The stress must have placed more demands on my body than even I realized.  I grinned and jump the last few steps, drawing Champ’s attention to me, and I rubbed his head playfully.  “Hello, boy!”

He was surprised at my good-cheer and got up to follow me to the kitchen.  I decided that many things were going to have to be prepared if I was going to relax the day away.  Many decadent things, chocolate and sugar and utterly unhealthy but delicious.

I started the first treat.  Death by chocolate.  _Sounds about the only right way to die_ , I thought happily.  Of course, to get the ingredients I had to stand on a chair, take down all of the dishes, and retrieve the chocolate ingredients I had hidden from Aximili.  I do love my brother, but sometimes these little subterfuges are necessary.

Once the brownie mix was in the oven and the mousse prepared, I rinses the dishes out and returned to the living room.  I needed some music and turned the system on loud with several CDs on rotation.

Music erupted from the speakers.  Not exceptionally pleasing to my Andalite sensibilities, but human music can grow on a person. Especially if it has a beat.  Intoxicating, somewhat, the way it makes a body want to move.

A few hours later I had a table full of foods to eat.  Brownies, cupcakes, three different pies, the Death by Chocolate, ice cream, and, because I ran out of chocolate, popcorn.  Caramel popcorn.

I took the ice cream and popcorn with me, relaxed on the couch, and set the ice cream on my stomach, the popcorn on the table.  Champ looked at it hungrily. 

“Off with you,” I said, waving him away.  He still stayed close and I rewarded his disobedience by letting him lick my bowl once I finished with the ice cream and eating whatever bits of popcorn that missed my mouth.  I was amusing myself by tossing it up in the air and trying to catch them in my mouth.  Not very good, I admit, but it was fun.

“You know, boy, I’m not entirely sure I should be letting you eat all this sugar.”

Champ didn’t quite seem worried and eagerly waited for more.  I laughed and tossed him a handful.

“What the hell, huh?  We’re all going to die by some pesky aliens, aren’t we?  Yeah.”  I scratched his ears and bobbed my feet to the music.

 ****

“Tequila,” I sang along as I beat into the dough.  There could be nothing like fresh bread and I suddenly wanted it.  Just plain bread.  Hot and fresh. “Dah-do do do do dododoo.”

I was just about to put the pan into the little toaster oven – yes, I bought everything a kitchen would never need – when the phone rang.  I scowled at it and I was very tempted to let it ring.

However, if it was Wetmore, I felt a profound desire to scream at her as well.

“Fangor residence.  Alan speaking,” I said cheerfully, scooping a cupcake and picking off the frosting.

From the voice, I knew instantly that it was not Wetmore.  I was very surprised to hear Cassie’s mother on the other end, asking if her daughter was over.  “Oh, no, ma’am.”  I stood straighter.  “She must be out with Alexander.  Is there any trouble?”

Her mother said there was none, just that they had expected her home earlier to help tend to the animals.  “It’s just not like Cassie.  Well, it wasn’t like her,” she amended.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I lied kindly.  “When I was her age, the last place I wanted to be was with my parents at home on such a nice day.  But she’s a good kid.”

“Yeah.  Well, if you do see her, send her home, Mr. Fangor.  There are boxes everywhere.”

“Of course.  Good day.”

Cosmic joke.  Had to be.   There was no reason why on my chosen day of rest that something terrible was happening.  However, I called Jake’s parents and Marco’s father to be sure, asked if Aximili was over there.  Of course it was no to both.  Then I called the Chee, asked for Erek, and wasted no time for pleasantries.  “Do not take this the wrong way, but what have you told the children that I should be made aware of as well?”

He did not sound offended.  “I have told them nothing, Prince Elfangor.  Is something the matter?”

I sighed.  “I do not need worried parents calling me to ascertain where their children are.  Even when I normally know where they are,” I added dryly. 

Erek smiled in the phone.  “Do you believe they are in trouble?”

“When are they not?”  I reached for a cupcake.  “I should have expected something, I suppose.  Aximili and Matilda were not around when I woke up.”

“Matilda?”

“Loren.  Whatever,” I said briskly, not wishing to dwell.  “I thought their absence was merely because of last night.”

“What happened last night?”

“I had a bad evening.  Some gang decided to rob and shoot bullets at me on the highway, at my car. I was in a bad mood and in no mood to be polite,” I said simply, biting into the cupcake.  Thinking about it now reminded me I had to call my credit card companies. 

“I see.”

I frowned at the tone and swallowed.  “I’m a warrior, not a diplomat.  Just because I did not speak politely does not mean …” I trailed off, because I did not care to argue the point, and perhaps what I had said would have been better if left unsaid.  “In any case, if you should see any of the children or Matilda, contact my cell.  I’m going to see if I can search them out.  You’d think they could have at least left a note,” I finished peevishly.

“Are you very concerned, Prince Elfangor?”

“Only just.  No doubt they are being irresponsible children.  I would not even be concerned if Cassie’s mother hadn’t called.  Besides, best to get out of the house.  Sorry to have wasted your time.”

“It is no bother.  And Prince Elfangor.”  There was a pause.  “Do take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try.  Good bye.”  I shook my head at the receiver, amused, before hanging it up.  Strike my tail if the android wasn’t worried about me.

I cast a despairing look to my remaining treats, loathe to leave them.  However, duty must come first.  After covering the bread dough and putting it in the refrigerator, I took a few cupcakes and went to the door.  Champ followed and I decided he could accompany me.  No doubt I was overacting to everything.  “Come along, Champ.”

In the van Champ settled in the passenger seat, eyeing my cupcakes.  I knew he would not take them, though, being well trained.   We left the driveway and I bobbed to the radio, munching on a cupcake and feeding Champ a few bits.

“Sometimes, boy, this is all I could need,” I said as we entered the city.  “Speed, food, music, no worries.”

Champ’s tongue lolled in agreement, before sticking his head back out the window.  Someday I’m going to morph a dog just to see the appeal.

I pondered where the children could be.  The most likely answer was at the mall and I went that way.  If they were at the mall, though, I wasn’t sure how I was going to find them.  However, I didn’t get very far, because there, waiting by a building was my brother.  Holding what the humans called the blue box.  I almost slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street. 

I didn’t though, because I am a contentious driver.  And I didn’t want to die before I had a chance to kill Aximili for being so patently stupid, especially since he was standing next to a known _Sharing_ meeting place. This was the final straw.  I am getting a safe deposit box and putting the damn thing under lock and key where none of the children know where it is!

I looked for a parking stall and found one a bit away.  My good mood had evaporated.  Champ picked it up and gave a little whine. 

“No, I’m not mad at you,” I smiled, stepping out.  “You be a good dog.  Eat the rest of the cupcakes.”  I might as well give him permission. “But don’t get sick and vomit in the van.”

I strolled towards my brother, then stopped in surprise when literally a small spaceship snuck up behind him and stole it away!  What the hell?  Aximili was just as surprised and he ran after the much quicker ship into the building.  I picked up my pace.

What the hell was it with Earth?  Did every single alien race have to visit-slash-take-over it?!

And as I got closer, into the building, all I heard was pandemonium!  Visser Three screaming in my head, the Controllers, and the aliens, Helmacrons.  On my tail … they were real?

I hadn’t ever heard of them except in stories.  I remembered Captain Pta’la of the ship _Watertree_ telling about the race of small fungal creatures that did not understand the concept of over-compensating or that they were very small and the rest of the universe was very large.  We warriors had all laughed at the Captain’s story, he had even laughed as well.  We thought he had been making it up.  Captain Pta’la loved to tell stories.  I wish I had paid a bit more attention to them now. It should have occurred to me that Pta’la was, before the war, in charge of exploration and met many new races.

How had the Captain defeated them?  (Or at least the Andalite the captain took the place of, because Captain Pta’la good-naturedly took credit in all of his stories, even when the true heroes were present.  Somehow he had always done it without causing offense.) I couldn’t remember and groaned, because all I could remember was Pta’la’s voice saying, numerous times, ‹You all should pay attention and remember.  After all, how else will you know how to defeat them without knowing my cleverness?›

Well, perhaps it would come to me.  I ran into the building and started demorphing, stripping as quickly as possible.  I was about to enter when Aximili ran out with device, skidding on his hooves.  ‹ELFANGOR?!›

My presence at least halted the Controllers following him for a bit.  Reputations were good to have.  And I heard more voices.  The children’s, Visser Three’s, the Controllers, and the Helmacrons.

‹They actually speak like that?› I demanded without thinking.  I had honestly thought Pta’la had been going for a comedic effect.  I had much to apologize for to the good captain, apparently.

Of course, now the Controllers were not so surprised and started moving towards us.  ‹Run!› I ordered to Aximili.  ‹Follow me!›

How had Pta’la gotten rid of them?

‹Elfangor, we were going to get you, we were!› Aximili babbled.  ‹But then Marco, Cassie, and Tobias were shrunk, and then we had to stop the other ship and follow the other ship and rescue Cassie and Marco and –›

‹Where is everyone?› I asked, leading through alleys.  We were going to have to morph soon.

‹They’re on me!  And Visser Three and the Controllers and the Helmacrons!›

‹And they all want to kill us!› Marco added.

‹What are we going to do?› Aximili demanded in a bit of a wail.

‹Cassie, your mother called.  She wants to know if you’re all right and when you’ll be home,› I informed, not quite thinking.

Several thought-speaks scolded me, but I ignored them thinking about Helmacrons.  Fungal … yes, that is how Pta’la defeated them.  Anti-fungal sprays, but that would not be very wise if the children were so small.  They could drown or be otherwise harmed.  Besides, too much time getting the stuff.

Something else …

‹Cassie says we have to get to the zoo,› Tobias said.  ‹She’s thought of something!›

Well, there was not another option.  ‹Morph.  I will deal with the Controllers and follow in short order.›

Aximili nodded and morphed while I took care of the Controllers.  Easy business, though slightly distasteful.  I didn’t let my mind dwell on it.  This was war.  I didn’t kill them, though, if you are wondering.  Well, not all of them.

Then I followed Aximili to the zoo, curious for the logic of Cassie’s plan.  What animal would be there that could be useful?  Too many animals, no answers.

At the zoo, though, I understood, spying my brother demorphing in a pen of anteaters.  Anteaters!  Cassie, you are a genius.

I chuckled as I flew down and landed on the tree next to him.  ‹Ingenious.  If Captain Pta’la were here, no doubt he would add a whole new chapter to extort his cleverness!›

Aximili turned his head to me, curious. He question was waylaid when Visser Three pronounced Cassie a sentimental fool for trying to plead with the Helmacrons.

‹Sentimental, maybe, but no fool,› I said coldly.

‹Elfangor,› he hissed.

‹Present.  You are at our mercy, Yeerk.  We may kill you at our leisure or wait three days.  Whichever seems more preferable.  I, personally, am ambivalent to your fate.›

‹Elfangor, we can’t leave them shrunk,› Matilda countered.

‹They wouldn’t survive,› Cassie added.  ‹Not at this size.›

I huffed.  A chance to at least end Visser Three.  We didn’t have to keep them this size past three days.  We could keep them in a glass jar with cotton balls stuffed into holes for air.  The Helmacrons could be kept in their own little jar and we would just … wait.  But no, Andalites do not kill hostages or prisoners.  In an ideal world.  I couldn’t bring myself to ruin that image to the humans and Aximili.  ‹We are fools,› I muttered.  ‹Here is what shall happen.›

And it did.  Visser Three sneered at me, and I met his gaze levelly next to Aximili, having demorphed to add more weight.  And once they left the children and Matilda were returned to their true size, the Helmacrons were sent on their way.

‹You’ve heard of them?› Aximili asked.

‹Helmacrons?  Yes, years ago,› I said dismissively.  ‹They were defeated by using some anti-fungal sprays.›  Marco said something about athletes’ foot.  ‹Though honestly I thought Captain Pta’la had made up the little megalomaniacs.  And I have to go.›

“Why?” Tobias asked.

‹Because currently there is a dog locked in my van, probably sick from eating my cupcakes.  I do not feel like getting a ticket either.  Until later.›

And I morphed and flew away.  Thankfully, Champ hadn’t been sick.  He was sleeping patiently on one of the back seats and greeted me enthusiastically.  “Yes, you are a good boy.  Come on, we’re going home.”

Hopefully I wouldn’t be pulled over, as I was only wearing my morphing outfit.  I didn’t feel like questions.  I just wanted to get back to my chocolate and desserts. 

It wasn’t to be.  Aximili beat me home.

I almost killed him.  It would have been perfect.  No witnesses.  But I didn’t.  Fratricide’s a terrible crime.  I just glared at him very angrily and went upstairs.  He understood and tried to apologize.  I ignored him and went to the computer in my room, door shut soundly behind me.

 ****

My door was knocked upon.  For a moment, I deliberated just ignoring it.  However, one cannot hide.  ‹Enter.›

With an eye stalk I saw Aximili, human, enter.  I continued working on the computer.  He looked nervous.  “Elfangor?”

‹What is it, Aximili?  I am very busy.›  Not a lie.  I was busy, looking for Yeerk activities, messing their accounts, the like.

His mouth opened then closed.  He was nervous.  “I did not mean to eat your foods,” he finally said.

I rolled my main eyes.  ‹Of course not.  You are forgiven.›

“I am sorry,” he repeated.  “But they looked so good and smelled wonderful and I …”

‹Aximili, I said I forgave you.›  I allowed more forgiveness in my voice, as well as exasperation. 

“You were mad.”

‹Pay it no mind.  After such trials, I had been looking forward to them, but I have grown accustomed to being disappointed.  It was but a momentary upset.›

Aximili looked disturbed at my words.  “We would have gotten you, had we time.”

‹Of course.  I know as well as any that things move quickly in battle.›

He was quiet, and I focused on my work.  “Elfangor?”

I sighed mentally.  ‹Yes, Aximili?›

“Last night …,” he started carefully, obviously worried about my reaction.

‹I am sorry I yelled at you,› I said, not exceptionally sorry.

“That is not … you are forgiven, as well,” Aximili stuttered.  “Last night, you said …” He trailed off.

I turned another stalk to him.  ‹You shall have to be more descriptive, Aximili.  I said many things last night and I cannot remember them all.›

“You said … did you speak the truth?” he asked, obviously changing his words to something he deemed safer.

‹Yes.›

“About … everything?”

‹I assume so.  I cannot remember everything I said.›  I turned my body to look at him with my main eyes.  ‹What are you trying to ask me, Aximili?›  My tone was no longer light.  I sounded like the hardened Prince I am.

“Nothing.  Nothing,” he said quickly, looking away.

‹Then you are taking exceptionally long to ask nothing!› I snapped.

He took a step back.  “What you said about Loren …”

‹How did you learn of that, anyway?› I demanded, the question occurring to me.

“You are my brother—”

‹That does not give you leave to meddle in my life, especially with things you have no understanding of,› I said coldly.

“You cannot have meant it,” Aximili said suddenly, passionate.  “It does not matter how much separates—”

‹You will cease this topic, Aximili,› I ordered, anger building up in me.  ‹You stupid child, you know nothing!›

“I know you still care!  I can see—”

My tail flew and I slapped his face with the blunt end.  Not hard, not as hard as if he had been a Controller or even one of my _aristh_ s, but he fell to the floor in surprise, lip bleeding.  I towered over him.  ‹You will not speak to me about what you know or see, _aristh_ ,› I hissed, ‹because you know and see nothing!  Keep your childish stories to yourself; I will have none of them. And if you speak to me of this topic again, I swear by my tail I will teach you not to speak it again!  Do you understand me, _aristh_?›

There were tears in his eyes, maybe from the pain, maybe from the blow, maybe from fear, maybe from a sense of betrayal.  I couldn’t quite care.  “Yes, my Prince,” he whispered.

‹Good.›  I stepped past him, then paused as my conscience kicked in.  I sighed.  If it had been any other _aristh_ , I wouldn’t have felt the twinge.  Aximili was not the first young warrior I had to bat upside the head for impertinence.  _Aristh_ , now Warrior, Wantrano held the distinctive honor of meeting my tail blade more than any other creature I had never done battle with.  Now there had been an uppity _aristh_ , the product of over-indulgent parents, ancestral lines, a preference for speaking before he thought, too much intelligence, and not enough common sense.  Honestly, I was a bit fond of the _stranna_.

However, Aximili was my brother, and he may deserve some explanation.  ‹Understand something, Aximili.  I’ve made my choices in my life, be they for right or wrong reasons.  That is a warrior’s life – choices made.  We do not dwell on what should be, what we could have done.  They are done and buried and we cannot allow our focus to shift from the present.  It is the present that matters, not the past.  I am … content with my life.  In such times, it is all I can ask for.  I cannot afford distractions or ideals.  I am a Prince, with warriors under my command.  I will not risk your life or theirs because of ghosts you demand I conjure up.›

And I left, desperate to run through the forest and fields.  I had noticed I hadn’t said I wouldn’t risk my life for the ghosts.  I wondered if Aximili had.  I hoped not.  It was bad enough that I had noticed the slip, because it meant I was thinking about my choices.

 ****

I came into the house and was surprised to see Matilda sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.  I had thought she was going to go out for the day.  “Hello.”

“Hey.  I rented some movies.  Want to watch?”

“What did you get?”

“Well,” she sat up and started going through the large pile of cassette boxes.  Though I had a DVD player, Matilda had yet mastered working it, and preferred using video cassettes.  Aximili and I both silently mocked her on it when she swore at the remote, screen, and/or player, but she tended to have a sixth sense and glare at us.  “I rented _Titanic_ , _The Wedding Singer_ , _Men in Black_ , _The Bird Cage_ , _101 Dalmatians_ , _Toy Story_ , _Forest Gump_ , _Jurassic Park_ , _The Goonies_ , _Footloose_ , _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_ , all of the _Die Hards_ , and _Ghost Busters_.  I’m watching _The Goonies_ right now.”  Ah, that would explain the dropping rocks and screaming children.  I had wondered if someone had merely recorded my human children’s activities.

I laughed.  “Did you leave anything at the rental place?”

She grinned.  “No.  And I charged it to your credit card.”

“And you intend to watch all of these before they are due to return?”

“Yes.  Though if the world does end up falling in danger, I will, of course, pause and help.  Besides, most are good for a week, and others, I have no real interest in watching.”

“Then why did you rent them?” I asked.

“I remember hearing the hype about them.  I mean, I’m pretty sure in _Titantic_ , it ends with the boat sinking.”

I gave a small snort.  “Most likely.”

“So, you going to join me?  I’ve got popcorn,” she tempted, holding out the bowl.

For a moment, I deliberated.  The responsible thing would be to turn down the offer, to monitor Yeerk activities.  But the offer was too tempting, and responsibility can be so dreary.

“Only a few.  I refuse to sit on the couch all day,” I said, sitting next to her and already grabbing for a handful of the snack.

Matilda grinned and quickly caught me up on what I had missed.  It wasn’t much, and soon we were silently watching.  There had been a minor incident, when she refused to let me hold the bowl of popcorn, but, otherwise, we sat in comfortable silence.  True, I tended to mock the plausibility of the movie, and Matilda would either shush me or argue back, but it wasn’t displeasing.

Just before the movie ended, I had to demorph, but Matilda increased the volume so I could hear it from the bathroom. 

When I finished, the movie was starting into the credits, and Matilda was stretching.  “Want to watch another one?”

“Which do you wish?”

“I haven’t decided.  Could you get me something to drink, and maybe make some more popcorn.”

“I’ll do better.  What sort of pizza do you want? Or would you prefer Chinese?”  

She grinned and gave me her order.  Soon we were watching some silly movie about humans actually _knowing_ aliens were visiting their world – were actually in charge of protecting Earth!  The aliens were ridiculous, and I mocked every one of them. 

“Elfangor, shut up and eat your pizza.”  Even though she was scolding me, Matilda was not angry.  She even added, “I like the idea of the galaxy in the marble-thing.  Is that even possible?”

I scoffed.  “Maybe if you are an Ellimist.  Otherwise, no, it’s not.  At least, not if that was a _real_ galaxy.  Maybe it is merely an illusion.  I mean, are you aware of the amount of energy in a galaxy?”

“Do you _have_ to drag science into everything?”

“Yes. And all that matter condensed into that small of a space?  Imagine the gravitational pull!”

“You take all the fun out of movies.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re right.”

I had to demorph and remorph near the end, eager to see (and mock) how _humans_ could protect their planet.

“Did you ever notice, humans always win,” I said at the end.

“Well, it’d be a crappy movie if they didn’t!”

“But it’d be more realistic.”

Matilda shot me a look.  “Are you saying we’re going to lose?”

It was entirely possible, but I didn’t go that route.  “I’m saying we _have_ lost, at least.  Are there any movies where humans lose against the alien invaders?” 

“Probably not, because it’s a rule of Hollywood.  Bad guys lose, good guys win, the guy gets the girl, and all the junk.  I mean, how often in real life do Controllers attack you one at a time, huh?”

“Or ask if I have any last requests.  If a Controller ever asked me that, I’d say, _for you to let me go_.  Think it’d work?”

She laughed. “Only if they were really stupid.”

“Then it will, right?”

We laughed.

“God, if you’re going to be this obnoxious about humans dealing with aliens, I’m afraid to see how you’ll be when we clone dinosaurs,” she said, holding up _Jurassic Park_.  “Or deal with ghosts.  I think they do something science-y with that as well.”

“Put in the one with the cartoons,” I suggested.  “I can suspend reality for human cartoon shows.  Usually.”  I grinned.

She hit me with the box.  “You’re incorrigible.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Modest, too.”

“Indeed.”

Matilda rolled her eyes. 

We were still watching when the children arrived.  If they looked surprised to see us, I can only assume it is because I normally do not indulge in such activities.

 ****

“I fail to see the humor in this situation,” I responded testily to the humans’ laughter.

“This is priceless!” Marco crowed.

“I do not understand,” Aximili said, obviously confused.  “What is jury duty?”

Matilda explained it to my brother, smiling with amusement.  Aximili nodded.  “Ah, this is in the Bill of Rights, correct?  The Sixth Amendment?”

The children shrugged and I rolled my eyes at their ignorance to their own government.  “It is,” I told him, then stopped him when he started quoting the passage.  “Yes, yes, that’s it.”

Rachel looked thoughtful.  “Ax-man, I have a civics exam coming up …”

“No fair!  I was going to ask him first!”

Aximili was aghast.  “How can you not know how your own government works?”

“The only ones who even know how the government works are the immigrants.  And aliens,” Matilda said, nodding to us.  “It’s the truth.  The average American wouldn’t even know when the Constitution was signed or by who.”

“September 17th, 1787,” I said without thinking.  “And thirty-nine humans signed it.”

“See?”

“Wasn’t one of them John Hancock?” Jake asked.

“No, that was the Declaration of Independence,” Tobias corrected.  “He signed first.”

Aximili shook his head.  “It is not right for you to not know the basics of your society.  Or even knowing how your bodies work.  Human education is woefully inadequate.”

It was, I had to agree.  The children disagreed.  They thought they learned too much in school.

“So what must you do, Elfangor?” Aximili asked me.

“If I remember correctly, I merely have to get myself eliminated as a possible candidate.”

“Oh, I know how.  _Excuse me, your Honor, but I’m really a blue, four-eyed alien who has to demorph every two hours and really am an illegal alien, who is fighting other illegal aliens that are trying to take over the world_.  Do you think that will work?” Marco asked sarcastically.

“No.”  My voice was deadpanned.  “Clarissa Tompkins used that and they still made her attend.  Of course, she just said she was a Martian, not Andalite.  And she was fined.”

“Clarissa Tompkins?” Matilda asked.

I waved a hand dismissively, reading the notice again.  “I used to work with her, years ago.”  I sighed.  “This is what I get for paying taxes.”

“How will you get eliminated?”

“Lie, of course.  There is no option, since I cannot sit through the hours needed for this nonsense for a guilty human.”

“Ah, possibly guilty,” Cassie corrected.  “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“Well, how hard can it be to get out of jury duty, anyway?” Rachel asked. 

 ****

Apparently, the answer was, very hard.  At least for an Andalite.  I cursed my ill luck.  If a normal human could get out of it, why couldn’t I?  It was a blow to my intelligence and pride that I couldn’t even come up with a suitable excuse.  Well, by suitable, I mean that would have excluded me from the task. 

Apparently my job – or, as the courts saw it, despite all of the paperwork, lack of one – was not a suitable excuse.  Nor was watching my little brother, because Matilda lived with me and could watch him.  Nor was story about how I was leaving for vacation.  Nor my small medical condition, as close as I came to saying I had to demorph. Nor my rather, I thought, obvious favoritism to one side over the other. I didn’t dare try the truth, and even if I had, I probably still would have been assigned.

I did not have time to go through a human legal proceeding!  I had to stop Yeerks.  And I had to demorph every two hours. 

Thankfully, by turn of luck, a Chee had also been assigned to Duty as well.  That would not be an especially difficult problem now.  We were near in number and the hologram would be useful.  Despite my desire to not take part in this fiasco, I had less desire to ask a Chee to merely take my place.  I disliked asking favors from them, because some day I may have to return them. 

My only hope for not going would be if the defendant would accept all guilt or plea bargain.  I didn’t hold my breath.  Humans are too stubborn for an Andalite’s good.

 ****

I sat poised at the table, trying to keep my attention and temper.  This was nonsense, utter nonsense.

And not because I was right and everyone else was wrong.  Or at least those that didn’t side with me.

Of course, I didn’t exactly have an opinion.  As far as I was concerned, the human could have been guilty or he could have been innocent of the murder.  It did not strike me to be one or the other.  However, I refused to send someone to prison because I could not prove he was guilty.  I was responsible for enough deaths and ruinations of lives.

He was innocent until they proved to me he was guilty.

Still, the group was evenly divided.

The trial had lasted a few days.  Aximili had attended, curious about the human legal system, with Matilda.  The Chee, a female named Alice, helped me deal with the time limit.  Now we jurors were to deliberate, to come to a unanimous consensus. 

Obviously the justice system wasn’t quite the sanest.  Twelve humans agreeing on the same thing?  I’d laugh, except that I was expected to be part of it.  That stole the humor from the situation.

The Chee and I stayed away from leading the discussions.  I was a warrior, not a politician, too used to speaking orders that were to be obeyed without question.  Still, I wondered if I could intimidate everyone to give a solid answer.  Probably.  Especially if I was in my true form.

T’was not to be, of course.

I doodled on my notepad idly, made notes that didn’t pertain to the case, did upper level math equations, complied a shopping list.  I could be out causing problems for Yeerks, but I was trapped in this cramp little room with nearly a dozen annoying humans.

This would probably be the time the Yeerks were making the most problems.  And the children were going to have to deal with everything.  The planet was doomed.

 ****

When I returned home, I found out that the Yeerks hadn’t made any problems.  On the contrary, they were planning a festival.  Or, at least, that’s what _The Sharing_ claimed they were doing.

“I have to go,” Jake grumbled.  “Mom and Dad are making me.  A family thing, since we don’t do those anymore.” Marco made an inappropriate and tasteless comment.

Rachel frowned.  “Something’s going on, though.  Why the happy family thing?”

“Perhaps it’s just a thing for _The Sharing_ , like it seems,” Cassie shrugged, too optimistic and knowing it.

“Or maybe it’s an easy way to get a bunch of Controllers.  Infest them during a ride,” Tobias said.

“Perhaps it’s both,” Matilda said.  “Good press as well as … recruitment.  I mean, this festival isn’t cheap, by any standards.”

“Yeah.  All Tom has been gloating about is how generous _The Sharing_ is,” Jake agreed.  “Games and prizes and a ton of food.”

“Food?” Aximili asked, eyes greedy.

“Yeah.  Sara and Jordan say everyone at school is talking about the rides and new games they’ll have there.  And they’re going to have a band.”

“Who?” Cassie asked, interested.

“Does it matter?” Marco asked.

I sighed.  “When is this going to open?”

“This weekend.  Here’s a flyer Tom’s been passing out.”

The flyer gave the usual announcements.  Time, place, dates, activities.  “I suppose we check it out.”

“I volunteer to check out the roller coasters.”

“Are you sure you’re tall enough to get on them?” Rachel asked sweetly.

“Why would you want to ride a roller coaster?” Tobias asked.  “Flying is ten times cooler.”

Marco waved a hand.  “Please.  Do you know how much loose change you can find under the loops?”

 ****

“Out, Champ,” I ordered, clicking my tongue.  The dog, tongue dangling, leapt from the door and stopped at my feet, waiting for me to click on the leash.  As I patted his neck, I heard Matilda chuckle and looked up questioningly.

“Isn’t he supposed to be my dog?”

I frowned slightly and held out the leash.  However, she waved away my offer, smiling, and I rolled my eyes, more than a little annoyed.  However, it didn’t pay to dwell on it.

“May we go to the food areas, first?” Aximili asked a bit eagerly.

“Don’t you want to try some of the rides?  You shouldn’t eat before you go on them,” Matilda said.

“No.  Just the food, please.”

“Just hope it isn’t drugged,” I said in a dry voice, the leash wrapped around my wrist.  The statement wasn’t much of a deterrent to him, but I hadn’t thought it would be.  “Come on.  Let’s find the children.”

“I thought you told Marco you weren’t going to call them that anymore,” Aximili said, coming into step with me, Matilda on his other side.

“I lied.”

The festival crowded.  Entrance was free, and there was hardly any room to walk.  My eyes darted around constantly, but all I saw were humans, humans, humans, everywhere.  Champ, though very interested, stayed at my side, following his training.

Aximili’s head darted around nearly as much, and he posed many questions.  I let Matilda field them, not because I didn’t know the answers, but because I did not feel like explaining them.  His mouth was salivating.

“Al, may I please—”

“Once we find one of your friends,” I interrupted.  “Try to control your stomach for a little while.”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

Of course, I had to take my own advice.  While I did not think myself as food-crazy as Aximili, I was surrounded by very delicious goods.  To take my attention, I looked for known Controllers.  There were several monitoring booths.  Smiling.  Apparently having a wonderful time.

It was ten minutes before one of the children found us.  It was Tobias, and he waved and greeted us, ducking through the people.  He had a hotdog, half-eaten.  I almost drooled and Aximili did.

“How long have you been here?” he asked then handed over the half-eaten food to my brother.  I winced as it was inhaled and felt insulted that it wasn’t given to me.  I was the commanding Prince, after all.

“Not long, we just arrived,” Matilda said.

“The others are around.  Jake’s with his folks, and Tom, of course.  Marco’s trying to score a date, and Rachel and Cassie are playing some games three aisles down.”

“Anything interesting?” I asked.

Tobias shrugged.  “Nothing, really.  The usual games, so far.  The food.”

“May I get more food now, brother?” Aximili asked.

“I’ll take him,” Tobias volunteered.

“We were waiting for you.  Or one of you, anyway,” Matilda smiled.

Tobias grinned, understanding.  “We’ll need some money.  I basically blew most of mine with that.”

I was already reaching for my wallet and withdrawing a twenty.  Matilda’s and Tobias’s eyes widened at the amount.  “What?” I asked defensively.

“Are you carrying your entire bank account?” Matilda gasped.

“No,” I snapped.  “It’s only $250.”  Jeez, I would need that much to keep Aximili happy!  The food wasn’t going to be cheap, I was wise enough to know that.   “Here, take it.  If you need more, come find me.”

“Perhaps you could just give me more,” Aximili suggested hopefully.

“Nice try.  And watch your time.”

Aximili gave me a look.  “I’m not one of the humans,” he sniffed, insulted.

Eventually the pair disappeared, leaving only Matilda, Champ, and me.  “Now what?” Matilda asked.

“Do what you wish.  I plan to stroll the aisles, find the other children.  Walk on, Champ.”

Matilda followed me, walking closer than I would have liked, especially in the crowds, but I didn’t say anything.  It wasn’t worth noting.  I saw Marco, who was busy wiping off his damp shirt, as if someone had dumped a drink on it, with the girls laughing at him and holding small prizes that they obviously won from the booths.  I nodded at them and kept strolling.  They seemed fine.

When we passed him, Jake was looking bored and seemed, like a normal teenager, to be desperately trying to get away from his parents.  I smiled consolingly and shrugged when I caught his eye, while Matilda gave a small wave. 

“Well, at least everyone seems to be having fun.  And it’s a nice day.  Warm and sunny,” Matilda said cheerfully.

“Which always brings the snakes out,” I muttered to myself and walked quicker.  There was something here.  There had to be.

It took Matilda a bit to catch up with me.  If I have been more creative, I would have said that we’d have covered more ground if we split up.  Instead, though, I couldn’t think of that suggestion.  The smells of food were very distracting, you have to understand.

 ****

“It’s just thirty dollars, Al!” Marco, wearing a large grin, pleaded for the case of my brother. 

“Do you think it’s wise to enter my brother into an eating contest?” I asked, sarcastic.

“He’ll love it,” Jake put in.

“Please, brother,” Aximili added.  “I can eat as much as I want!  As fast as I want!”

“Haven’t you already eaten enough?” I said, indicating his face.  Tobias had done a poor job monitoring him.

“And no one will give it a second look,” Cassie laughed.

“And you’ll be saving money.  Just think if you can to buy Ax everything that he could eat onstage,” Marco added.

“And if Ax wins,” Tobias started.

“If he wins, he gets $200!”

“To buy more food!”

“Come on, Al,” Rachel smiled.  “We were thinking about putting you in the contest.”

I gave the children a look and sighed.  Perhaps I am growing too soft. “How much, again?” I said, reaching for my wallet. 

“Thirty dollars.”

There was a pause before, obviously having seen the extra currency I carried, more requests were good-naturally given from all the children.  I gave the money to Jake.

“Will you be there to watch?” Cassie asked.  “Cheer him on?”

I almost asked, _must I_ , but stopped the question.  “I will endeavor to be present.  Before you start, take you medicine,” I said to my brother.  He nodded, understanding my order.  “Then go, register.  If possible, win.  Not that you even need the money.”

Before they ran off, Matilda asked when the eating contest would start and where it was.  There went my excuse for pleading ignorance.

With all the talk of food, I finally gave into temptation and bought a hotdog.  With everything, of course.  And it was delicious.  I tempered the pace at which I ate it, of course, but some might have thought I inhaled it.  I didn’t care. And I didn’t care if the food was possibly drugged.

Damn, it was good.  Almost bliss.

I ordered another one.  And because I still can read a woman’s face, at least one, even if she really isn’t who I would like her to be, I ordered one for Matilda with toppings I knew she preferred.

She grinned happily as she accepted the food. “Thank you, Alan.”

I grunted a response, turning away to eat my own.  Champ looked up at me with a hopeful expression.  Sorry, boy, no bits this time.  There was no way I was sharing this.

“Alan!”

I choked, gagged, as I saw the familiar figure of Aria Wetmore appear, to obviously see me. Matilda patted my back forcefully.  It was too late to retreat.  I was going to have to deal with this annoying human female.

“You all right?  What’s she doing here?” 

Still trying to clear my windpipe, I couldn’t respond, but I did note the venom in Matilda’s voice.  By the time Wetmore was in front of me, I had regained my ability to breathe.

“Alan Fangor, this is a pleasant surprise to see you here,” she said, holding her hand out.  I reluctantly took it.

“Why would that be, Ms. Wetmore?”

“Tsk, Aria,” she scolded.  “And you seemed to be vehemently opposed to _The Sharing_.”

“Oh, I still am.  My attendance is because I was out-voted,” I lied smoothly.

Wetmore laughed.  “Of course.  Of course.”

“And why are you here, Ms. Wetmore?” Matilda asked with cold politeness.  Wetmore narrowed her eyes.  Odd that I had never noticed the tension between the two, for now I could see the two human females were distinctly, to put it mildly, not friends.  Had it always been so hostile?

“My company, Ms. … what was your name again?”  It was a strange tone for a question, I thought, like there was some hidden meaning being passed.  I wasn’t sure if it was meant only for humans or for females, but my ears did notice the difference.  Or perhaps I am being overly imaginative.

“Rusch.”

“Yes, of course.  For your information, Ms. Rusch, _Claymore Industries_ has created some very high-tech gaming technology, courtesy of funding provided by _The Sharing_.  This festival is to publicize and test them out before they are formally introduced in a year.”

I worked my mind around this bit of information.  “The … _Sharing_ funded gaming technology?”

“Are you surprised?”

Yes, I was, and curious as well, but I dissembled.  “For a group devoted to family-orientation and health and the like, games are a curious thing to fund.  I suppose they get a share of the profits?”

“Only if they have stock.  Really, Alan, you are too cynical.”  She took my arm, patted it in a patronizing manner.

“Alan, we have to go now,” Matilda said suddenly.  “The eating contest is starting.”

Yes, a way to escape.  I pulled my arm free. “My brother Alexander’s in it.  I have to go cheer him on.  And sign things when the paramedics come to pump his stomach, no doubt.  So you’ll have to excuse us.”

“Maybe we shall run into each other later, Alan.  Catch up.  And my offer is still open.”

My face turned stiff.  “My answer is the same, Ms. Wetmore.  No, to both offers.  Have a good day.”

Matilda, Champ, and I walked away as fast as could be polite, or perhaps a touch faster.

“What other offer?  You never said anything about one,” Matilda demanded.

I kept staring straight ahead.  I wasn’t going to admit the truth, of course.  “Ms. Wetmore had merely offered me an arrangement she thought would be more enticing.  I declined that one as well.” 

“Did you?”

My head snapped at her, insulted.  Of course I had. What kind of … Then my temper cooled, because I remembered she didn’t actually know what the offer was.  “Obviously.”  I looked forward again.

“Obviously,” Matilda parroted.  I didn’t like the tone.

We made our way to where the eating contest was being held.  We were early, of course, thanks to Wetmore.  We sat at a table near the front because Matilda chose it before I could pick my own seat in the back.  Now I was going to get covered in food that that the contestants didn’t manage to swallow or get into their mouths.

And I couldn’t even eat the bits.  Well, not if I’d like normal humans to think I was sane.

 ****

Aximili got second place.  The children were completely shocked, but I wasn’t.  It didn’t matter that Aximili loved food and ate it at a dangerous speed.  The fact was that he was in a skinny teenage body and ate with an unpolished skill.  Now I, I could have beaten the gentleman who had won … well, it is no matter.  Aximili didn’t quite care what place he got.  He was quite happy with have been allowed to eat everything that they had shoved in front of him.

I refused to let him have another snack from the vendors, not unless he demorphed or waited an hour.

“I don’t care if you are still hungry, Ax,” I said.  “The fact of the matter is you’ve eaten nearly ten pounds, maybe fifteen. How much do you think the human stomach can stretch?”

“Just a little bit more,” he mumbled hopelessly, scuffing a toe.

“No, it cannot.  If you do nothing else in your life, at least trust me on this.”  I met his gaze and added quietly, “Trust me on this.  It always tastes better going in than coming out.”  I would never wish Aximili to go through that experience.

Whether or not Aximili did trust me, he bowed to my wishes and merely gazed longingly at the food vendors.  For his sake, I did not buy any foods for my own consumption, a very noble gesture, if I do say so myself.

“I’m gonna go check out those new games of theirs,” Marco said, trying to get past the disappointment of not getting to help Aximili spend two hundred dollars.  Games did seem to be a coping mechanism for the boy.  “See if these slugs can make a decent one.”

“Doubtful,” Jake said.

“I don’t know if you should.  Don’t video games rot your brains, and you can’t spare any,” Rachel said sweetly.

Marco grinned.  “Then I’ll be able to shop like any other mindless zombie in search of a sale.”

Sometimes I wondered about the comments the children slung between themselves, especially those two.  Though it was done in good fun and teasing, it crossed my Andalite sensibilities.  When I had been human, I had been perhaps too proper, too … stick-in-the-mud, if I remember the phrase correctly.  Aximili also was sometimes shocked at their behaviors, but he took it much more in stride, more accepting.  Perhaps it was his youth.  Sometimes I just wanted to snap at them like my mother and father had done to me as a child, how I would have if I had been commanding Andalite fighters.  Maybe I am too proper for Andalites as well.

All but Aximili and Tobias, who were speaking about the subtleties of the carnival games, left to follow towards the video games area.  I’ll admit, it did give me slight satisfaction to see that my brother and son were close friends.  Probably not _shorms_ , not yet, but someday, I hoped.  They suited each other.

“May we play one of the vending booth games, brother?” Aximili said.  “Tobias says they are lame.”

I cast a look at Tobias, who shrugged and grinned, and chose not to ask the obvious question of _why_ then.  “Very well, but I will not carry anything you win.”  I have only been suckered into that once years ago, and I swore to myself never again.  I may be (or, as the case had been, had been,) an Andalite, but I am not (and nor will I ever be, save as a morph,) a pack mule.

Aximili agreed and as a group we went over to a booth, whose game was where one was to shoot water at a figure to fill and balloon and make it pop.  What the game’s true name is, I remain ignorant, but it seemed a fitting game to show my brother the perils of gluttony.  Not that Aximili would get the subtle hint.  Sometimes my brother is very obtuse.

The game was simple and Aximili won easily, if only because Matilda and Tobias let him.  (I had declined to play, because, truly, I did get the subtle hint and preferred to not connect that balloon’s fate to myself.)  He seemed amused at the cheap, and thankfully small, toy and was content to carry it around to the next booth, to the next game, and I wondered what I had allowed myself to fall into.

We were on the fifth game and I was busy trying to count exactly how many were in this line of strip while the others were laughing at both Aximili’s and Tobias’ poor attempts to throw a ball.  (If they had asked, I would have flat-out refused to even look at the ball.  Throwing balls was not my forte, at least at intended targets.  One time I nearly cold cocked a pre-schooler, one who had been standing ten feet behind me.  I had been mortified.)  I counted twenty-three from where we stood, twenty-three I could easily see.  Who knew how many were hidden in the nooks and crannies between them?  I sighed and looked down at Champ, sitting happily with his tongue hanging out, a bit of drool hanging from the end.  At my attention he leaned his head against my thigh and I scratched his ear.

Matilda was trying to show Aximili and Tobias the proper hold of a baseball.  Apparently she did remember a few things about her past, even if she didn’t know it.  Tobias was a quicker study, understanding what she was trying to say.  Aximili was hopeless, as I had been.  Andalites do not throw things.  Poor arm strength, you understand.  I did my best not to pay attention.  I knew it all by heart anyway, the grips and the arc and whatnot.  Just because I couldn’t throw didn’t mean I hadn’t paid attention.

I was busy contemplating making an escape when I again heard that dreadful, familiar voice call my name.  My head snapped up, eyes wide, and I do not doubt my face turned pale.  “Does that woman ever give up?” I gasped.  Very briefly I thought of making an escape, but it was definitely too late.  She had obviously seen me again.  Nothing to do but bear it. Again.

“Alan!  I hoped you’d still be around here,” Wetmore greeted with her large, toothy smile.

“Unfortunately, you were right,” I said dryly.  “Here we are.  Playing games.”

“So I see.  Hello again, Alexander.”

For a moment I was afraid Aximili would not respond appropriately, but my brother answered perfectly.  He nodded slightly, warily, prizes held in his arms.  “Hello, Ms. Wetmore.”  And not a sound was played with.  I was relieved, even though I should have felt guilty about losing faith in my brother’s ability.

“I heard you were in the eating contest.  How did you do?” 

Aximili gave her a look.  “I came in second place.”

Wetmore grinned.  “That’s nice.  Did you have fun?”

Aximili shrugged while Tobias tried to hold back a laugh. 

This female wouldn’t let the conversation stop.  “I see you’ve been winning a few games.  You must be very good.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling as if this was a covert attempt to get to me; I decided to step in, if only to save my brother.  “Don’t be fooled.  His competition is letting him win.”  Aximili gave me a hurt look, though Matilda and Tobias both looked sheepish.  I rolled my eyes.  Do I look like an idiot, you two?  “And speaking of which, this is his friend Tobias.  And you met Matilda earlier, of course.”

Wetmore gave a flash of annoyance that quickly spread into a patented smile.  “Yes, Ms. Rusch. How do you do, again?”

“Fine, thank you, Ms. Wetmore.”

Tobias looked between his mother and the corporate head, surprised at the cold exchange.  At least he didn’t appear hurt that Wetmore didn’t deign to greet him as well, for she turned her attention back, unfortunately, to me.

“Have you tried any games, Alan?”

“No.”

“None at all?  That’s just a shame.  You’re such a great shot.  In fact,” and faster before I could step away, hide behind Matilda, Tobias, and my brother, she took my arm and started dragging me, and Champ, away, “I saw this shooting gallery just a few aisles down.  You must try it.”

I tried to tug free before resigning myself to this fate.  “Must I?” I said wearily, casting a hopeless glance at my companions.  Thankfully, they were following.  Tobias was vastly amused at my misfortune and Aximili peeved that he had to leave his games.  Matilda merely looked annoyed as Wetmore prattled on and on and on.

“And here we are.  You must try, Alan.”

“Yes, you simply must,” Matilda mocked airily.  I gave her a lopsided smile to show my amusement while Wetmore glared.  Matilda merely smiled back at me to show her amusement in my amusement.

The vendor, not a man I knew to be a Controller, not that that meant anything, as I had to constantly tell the children, understood that I was to be an unwilling customer and merely took my money graciously.  I gave Champ’s leash to Matilda and picked up a gun, a simple pellet handgun.  I was familiar with handguns, not rifles.  Well, if I was to be honest, I was familiar with Shredders and, when necessary, Dracon beams.  But that could be considered splitting hairs.

I took my stance, sight, and fired.  Again and again at the moving targets, mostly hitting them but there were a few misses.  I wouldn’t let it hurt my pride, because this was an inferior human toy gun. 

“Good job, sir.  You may pick something from the second shelf from the top.” I grimaced while Wetmore prattled her agreement, both to her voice and to the prizes indicated.  They were large gaudy stuffed prizes, not the biggest, but large enough that I didn’t wish to carry one around.  I pointed to the least distasteful, a morbidly happy bear of some species.  In my hands, it lost my little appeal for it.  The Yeerks had obviously skimped on the prizes.

“Here,” I said, giving the prize not to Wetmore, who clearly expected it; nor to Aximili, who did not need to carry the two-foot tall monstrosity with all of his other prizes; and nor to Matilda, who I did not feel comfortable giving such a thing to.  Tobias looked surprised at the gift being forced upon him, but, then again, he shouldn’t have stood so close to me.  I would have given the thing to Champ if the dog had been nearer.  “Never let it be said I never gave you anything.”

Tobias looked up at me from under his bangs.  “I would never say that.”

I caught the meaning.  ‹Well, then never let it be said I never gave you anything that wouldn’t put you in mortal peril,› I thought-spoke airily. 

“And I wouldn’t say that either,” Tobias smirked quietly, nodding his head at Wetmore, who looked insulted at the receiver of my gift and was glaring daggers.

The mother instinct reared in Matilda, and she tried to change the conversation.  “Who’s—”

“Alan, I know you have a preference for perfection, but I would have accepted that.  You don’t have to try again.”

I should have said, _then_ _I won’t_ , but I knew it wouldn’t help anything.  Hence resigned, I paid the amused vendor and prepared to fire again.  Utterly contemptible, this … gun.  It veered to the right on its firing.  Shoddy craftsmanship.  This time I fired slowly, taking great concentration on each aim and stance, like how a new cadet trying to prove something to his commander would do, when each shot mattered between a pass and a fail.

As such, I didn’t notice the approach of others until my last shot, when someone said, “Well done, Mr. Fangor.  Well done.”

I turned my head just as Matilda gasped, Aximili dropped his prizes, and Tobias said, “Mr. Chapman!”

It was a good thing he had spoken after I finished the rounds, not that the little pellets would have had much affect a human.  I waved my hand to indicate I didn’t care what prize was given as I greeted, “Hello, Mr. Chapman.”  I nodded my head to the others next to him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you boys,” the Controller said to Aximili and Tobias, who were gathering the dropped toys, “but that was great shooting.”

“Hardly.”

“Oh, Alan is being modest,” Wetmore said, holding the prize the vendor was wise enough to hand to her.  And it was a huge prize.  “He’s the gentleman I told you about that absolutely saved my life when those hoodlums robbed us.  Isn’t that right?”

“I personally think it was the owl that saved us first,” I said, and I thought I saw Matilda give a flicker of a smile. 

“Yes, that was very interesting to hear about,” Chapman said keenly.  However, he dropped the subject, “We were looking for you, Ms. Wetmore.  Our sponsor, Mr. Trent, would like to speak with you.”

I froze slightly.  Mr. Trent, Visser Three’s human name.  Or one of them, at any rate.  I met the other’s gazes and could tell they knew as well.  And the absolutely last thing I wanted was to be human next to Visser Three, even if he was human as well.

And, as if reading my thoughts, Wetmore said, “Oh, Alan, you must meet him.  I’ve told him all about you.”

“Even still, I’ll have to beg off.  I’m sure Mr. Trent has better things to do than –”

“Actually, I’m sure Mr. Trent wouldn’t mind meeting you,” Chapman interrupted.  “Ms. Wetmore’s glowing reviews have reached his ears quite often.”

“That would explain my constantly burning ears, but I have to decline.”  I had to do some quick thinking. “We agreed to meet some of Alexander and Tobias’s friends by the video games.”

“You’re in luck, then.  Mr. Trent’s over there as we speak, over-viewing the games,” Chapman said. 

Wetmore took my arm.  “Isn’t it wonderful how things work out, Alan?”

“I would never say that.  Matilda, why don’t you take Ax’s prizes to the car?”

Matilda looked surprised at my order, because that is what it was.  “But –”

‹Do you honestly think Visser Three won’t recognize you?› I snapped.  ‹Your make-up and haircut aren’t that deceiving!  Do you wish to put us all in danger?›

She blinked at me, then smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  “Yes, of course.  And Champ, I think, needs to be relieved.  Wouldn’t want to do that where people walk.”

“We would be much obliged,” Chapman agreed, smiling.

“Let me take those, boys.”

Wetmore seemed pleased that Matilda was to leave.  I was merely relieved when she walked away, arms laden with toys and Champ trotting at her side.  Honestly, I do not know if Visser Three would recognize her, but I am inclined to believe it to be so.  She was not especially scarred previously that her unblemished face would hide her.

We followed Chapman and his companions, Ax and Tobias visibly nervous.  Wetmore spoke with Chapman about the games and business, how she hoped everything was to Mr. Trent’s pleasure.  I listened and tried to understand, but it didn’t seem to make much sense.  Human electronics had that affect on me.  It was all utterly so simple that it was complicated.

Really, though, I was preparing myself mentally to meeting Visser Three. I couldn’t appear hostile to him, I couldn’t appear like I knew anything about a Yeerk invasion.  I had to be a normal human male.  If he suspected anything, we were all doomed.  The children would be taken, my brother, Matilda, myself.  So much was riding on my tail that I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

“Al! Ax!”

I turned my head to see Marco rushing down towards us.  I stomach fell.  Wonderful, something happened.  Wait, no, it did not pay to be pessimistic.  They had been by the video games.  Obviously they had seen Visser Three in human morph and were telling me, unaware that I already knew.

“Do you know that boy?” Wetmore demanded, scandalized, as Marco ran into a group of people and made everyone fall.

“That’s one of my students,” Chapman sighed.  “I wasn’t aware you knew him, Mr. Fangor.”

“He’s one of Alexander’s friends.  Do see what’s wrong before he kills some poor person, you two,” I said, dismissing Tobias and Aximili.  “You can tell me later.”

“Right,” Tobias nodded, taking Aximili and rushing them to help Marco.

Wetmore made a noise of disapproval.  “Such a wild child.”

“Marco is completely harmless, Ms. Wetmore,” Chapman laughed.  “Not a very studious boy, by any means, and a little too full of himself, but a good kid.  When he’s not causing trouble, that is.  How did Alexander meet him?”

“Through Tobias when we first moved here.   Given the friends I had as a child, I don’t dare say anything,” I smiled.  “Besides, if I did, no doubt Alexander would like Marco even more.”

“Children do do that, don’t they?” Chapman agreed.  “I’ve told then countless times to apply themselves more, and it just makes them more apt to be layabouts.”

I nodded politely as they continued speaking, half watching the children speaking.  Marco looked frantic, far more frantic than I thought knowing Visser Three being here warranted.  My pessimism returned full-forced.  Now what?

It appeared I would have to be patient just a bit longer.  But not as long as I maybe would of liked, because soon we were at the video gaming section.  And it was crowded with young humans the children’s age.

There were the other children, looking serious and worried.  And their gazes drifted from me to him.  I controlled my breathing.  Visser Three, in morph.

Honestly, the first thought I gave to his morph was that it was unimpressive.  It was plain and while powerful, not exceptionally so, perhaps only as strong as I was in this form.  I know as any the difficulty in controlling the results of _Frolis Maneuver_ , but it was a disappointment, considering this Yeerk’s tendency for over-compensation.  A boring human with no remarkable features.  Dark hair, dark eyes, wide face, tall build.  Receding hairline.

Still, the aura, the mental projection all Andalites give out when they wish it, the tingling of malice.  It made up for the plainness of the morph.  I couldn’t stop a small tremor, not of fear, but of anger, and Wetmore patted my arm.

“Oh, he’s a big pussycat,” she said.  However, I heard the barely-there tremor.  My estimation for her rose slightly as she let go of my arm and approached Visser Three, hand outstretched, toy tucked under her arm.  “Mr. Trent, how do you do?”

Visser Three took her hand and shook it, obviously having received some basic training in human customs.  “Fine, Ms. Wetmore.  I have come to speak about these games.”

“Do they meet your approval?”

The Yeerk didn’t answer, apparently listening to the sounds the humans were making, about how great the game was and all.  What was going on, I wondered.

‹Elfangor,› Aximili said, and I grew more worried.  His voice was shaky, uncertain.  ‹Marco says …. It does not seem very possible …›

‹I am perfectly aware that most of what Marco says is not possible!› I snapped.  ‹What is it this time?›

‹He says that the game is controlling real ships.  He says he was fighting against Andalites!› 

I blinked.  Yes, that did not seem very possible.

‹And Marco says his feelings were hurt.›

‹I’ll buy him a lollipop later,› I said distractedly, looking at the games while the Controllers talked shop.  Impossible.  The nearest Andalite squadron would be light years beyond light years away.  No technology could control the ships in real time from that distance. 

I refused to entertain the notion that the Yeerks had somehow created something that could. 

After studying the game stations, self-enclosed structures where the gamers went in and played, were hidden from outside view, I, pretending harmless curiosity, interrupted, “Why the antennas and satellites?  Are you monitoring the children’s abilities from your capital facilities or contacting the mother ship?”  They were huge, possibly able to actually contact said mother ship.

The Controllers all stared at me while Wetmore laughed, perhaps a bit nervously.  “Alan, your sense of humor.”

I inclined my head to the booths.  “Those sorts of broadcast apparatus are usually hooked up to systems capable of contacting the other side of the world.  A bit overkill if the games only contact one another.  Also given that from where I stand, I can make out cooling units that would be needed for harder working processors, and apparently very large ones at that.  And why the world would such large processors be needed, one wonders?  Are the graphics so wicked cool to warrant it?”

“And who are you?” Visser Three asked, as if noticing my presence for the first time.

“Oh, where are my manners?  Mr. Trent, this is Alan Fangor, the man I’ve told you so much about, the one who has an extensive background in computers and upper-level physics.  Alan, this is Mr. Trent.”

We shook hands, probably the first in our entire tenure as enemies.  Probably helped that the Visser didn’t know I was me, that he would not notice the similarities in my alias and my true name.  Not for the first time I thanked my choice to be introduced and known as Alan instead of Al.

“Ah, I’ve heard much about you.”

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” I replied flippantly, taking my hand away before I was unable to stop the desire to crush his.  “Between the two of us, we’ve become indifferent acquaintances.”

“Indeed.  Ms. Wetmore tells me you deal in computers.  For a company called _Forlay_.  I’ve never heard of them.  No one, in fact, has, and believe me, I have looked.”

I shrugged.  “What can I say?  We’re a small company that deals with exclusive clientele.  Hardly worth the mystery, but I am merely an underling that goes where ordered, when ordered.”

Visser Three looked at me speculatively and I met his gaze, trying to control my emotions.  “A good trait in an underling.”

“A better one is when to know not to.  So which is it?”

“Which is what?” he asked, confused.

“Headquarters or the mother ship?  Or are they the same thing?”

“Alan, that is enough,” Wetmore interrupted, sounding slightly worried.  “Why don’t you go speak with your brother?  I’ll be right along in a moment.”

I took the dismissal as it was intended, truly wishing to get away from the circle of Yeerks before I lost myself.  Once by the children, which still consisted of Marco, Tobias, and my brother, I asked, “Where did the others go?”

“Around,” Marco said vaguely, waving a hand to indicate that they were very much around. “And when do I get my lollipop?”

‹What do you know?›

Aximili told me while Marco and Tobias pretended to regale me with the wonderfulness of this carnival.  My brother gave me his own bits of observations before hesitantly asking, ‹You do not think they are fighting actual Andalite fighters, do you?›

I noticed the boys were quiet, waiting for my answer, Marco looking exceptionally interested.  And guilty.  I would have lied if I had to when I realized why.  He had played the game, no doubt shot at the ships until he realized what he was shooting at.  ‹No, I do not think so.  No doubt it is a Yeerk idea of humor.›

“Sick humor,” Marco muttered.

I gave him a consoling smile.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Tobias asked.

“Like what?  Allow Rachel to stomp the games as an elephant?”

‹Can I?  Is that permission?›

I smiled, wondering exactly what morph she was in.  She had to be close to hear me.  “No, it is not.” 

“We cannot let that monstrosity of a game to be played!” Aximili proclaimed. 

‹Who knows what the Yeerks plan to do with it?  This could be stage one or something,› I heard Jake say.

‹And it might be real,› Cassie added. ‹Eventually, if not right now.›

‹I doubt so,› I said stiffly. 

“And you have to think about how people would react to those aliens if they ever visited Earth,” Tobias pointed out.

I nodded at that, at the possible ingenuity of the Yeerks in creating a game that would make humans predisposed to not trust Andalites, to fire on sight.  These were all reasonable claims, especially Aximili’s, and I shook my head.  ‹Very well.  What morphs are you all in?›

Eagle.  Squirrel.  Seagull.  Not much help.  But perhaps we did not need to cause much trouble.  I stared at the game machines, trying to understand their workings.  Then I told described a piece of equipment that should be present.

And to have fun.

But to be careful, of course.

We stood back and watched the show.  Of course, I had to go save a squirrel, laughingly blocking the pursuing Controllers.  “What?  It’s a squirrel!” I chuckled at their faces.  Then I smirked at Visser Three.  “If you didn’t want the local wildlife in your mechanics, you shouldn’t have had this outside, Mr. Trent.”

“What kind of squirrel takes a radio component?” Wetmore demanded.  “An expensive one!”

“A trained one?  One that needs better reception in its tree?  There are so many reasons, and all of them would be a little nutty,” Marco said dramatically, then ducked when Chapman and Visser Three glared at him.

“In any case, the show was lovely, but it’s getting late and we have to get home.”  I turned, then gave a smile.  “You’d almost think the animals don’t want these games of yours.  Funny, huh?  Good thing it was just some birds and a squirrel.  If you were at the zoo, you’d probably have a rhino on your case.”  ‹And that is not permission.›  “Come along, children.”

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I might be the only one, but I LOVED the Helmacrons. They make me laugh. And I *know* they're not fungal, but I used to speed-read these books in MediaPlay while my dad was shopping in the Menards next door. (Serious, the goal was to read the whole book in an hour or hour and a half, about the time Dad would decide he was done.) I misread the word "fungible" as "fungal" or something, so I've always imagined them as fungal. It didn't seem to be outside the realm of possibility for an alien species, and I imagined them as budding off to reproduce and their hive mind fit my mental image of what a fungal species would be, I guess. It wasn't until I reread the series that I went, ooh, huh ... well, too bad! This is my headcanon now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book Book 25 in the timeline, but guests from Books Further

The Yeerks got the hint, at least.  We knew about their little games, real or not.  Aximili and I spent some time analyzing the equipment that the children stole.  As I suspected, they were unable to communicate with anything further than a couple hundred thousand miles away.

It was a relief, I’ll admit.  Confirmation. 

It was a bit of a laughable study, though.  Aximili and I had sat at the table mocking the poor construction while Tobias sat next to us, not contributing to the task that was beyond his abilities.   Matilda cooked supper, since she thought I should remain focused on the computer technology.   We had remained in the kitchen, so I could monitor and help her, which made Matilda roll her eyes.  “I can cook something without burning it to a cinder.”

“I know.”

“We all know you’re just possessive about the kitchen, Elfangor,” Tobias grinned.

“I am not,” I said, affronted.  Matilda turned and gave me a look Tobias mirrored.  Even my brother didn’t look like he believed me.  “I’m not.”

“Right.  Tobias, here, you can wash the potatoes,” she said, turning from the topic.  For a moment, he seemed like he would have declined, but with a dramatic sigh, he went to the sink.

My brother and I continued taking apart everything while Matilda directed her son to help her, but we only remained until she scolded us for getting the table dirty. It was determined by her sole discretion that we needed to leave.

I replied that I wasn’t sure if all of the smoke alarms had fresh batteries, then had to duck when she threw a wooden spoon at me while Tobias laughed and my brother was confused, but amused.   So Aximili and I moved to the living room, where it was safer.

“Humans are paranoid about eating on clean surfaces,” I said in response to Aximili’s question, using a tweezers to remove a small component.  Definitely not human. And not a Yeerk tracking device.  It warranted further study and I carefully set it down.  At this rate I was going to have to demorph to handle everything.  Andalite hands and fingers are far nimbler than human.  “Human parents in particular.”

Aximili nodded.  “What is that?”

“We shall have to find out.”

“Supper!”

“After eating,” I added to the suddenly empty room.

After I tidied up everything, I pushed myself off the floor.  I am always somewhat surprised at how stiff my human morph can be.  When I was younger it was not so very difficult – not that it was very difficult just now– to rise from the floor.  To think that my morph had aged so ungracefully.  It was not even middle-aged.  I had at least a (short human) decade before that.

Entering the kitchen, I shook my head at the pathetic humanity of the scene.  Eating at a table, like we were all humans, like we were a normal human family.  Tobias quite possibly could do without the whole sit-down ceremony, and I had no pressing desire for such formality in eating. We only did it because Matilda found the practice pleasing and Aximili enjoyed eating.  While I might tolerate eating gluttonously in other locations, I was very firm in making him eat in a civilized human fashion here.  I did not want to clean up the mess.

Besides, Aximili had to learn table manners.  And he would learn them if I had to kill him to do so.

We ate silently.  There was never much conversation at this table.  Sometimes, when things of interest happened, maybe, but never mundane conversations.  When there are two creatures more interested in the food, conversation does take a side seat.

In any case, I didn’t want conversation.  Friendly, pleasant conversation.  It was just a reminder of times gone by.  I stopped eating, momentarily remembering them, and I moved the food around my plate in the pain the recollections brought.  My hunger was chased away and I stood up.

“Elfangor? Is something wrong?  You’ve barely eaten,” Tobias said, surprised.

“It’s not bad, is it?  I didn’t even burn anything,” Matilda protested.

“I’m not exceptionally hungry.”  Three pairs of eyes stared up at me in shock, and I ordered, “Aximili, close your mouth!”

His mouth snapped shut, but he didn’t continue chewing.

“I’m going for a run.  Don’t wait up,” I said, moving to the back door and removing my shirt as I left the door, dropping it in the basket stationed there for that very purpose.  The grass was damp under my bare feet, the sticks sharp, but I didn’t mind.  Once hidden by the trees I morphed.  And I ran hard.

I went through the woods quickly, went deeper than I normally did.  Deeper than even Aximili, who liked the possibility of adventure, battling mountain lions and the like.  Sometimes I wondered if I had ever been so foolish.

As an Andalite, running was in my blood.  We Andalites are made for speed, for running.  Our early ancestors were prey to dangerous creatures.  Of course, we were also made for fighting, but I tend to think that our evolution was not for blood.  In any case, I loved to run.  Even as a human I ran.  Well, once I mastered remaining upright.  I woke early and ran before and with the sun, ran for miles.  I even had special shoes for it.  In the memory, I smiled, because Loren had always scolded me for waking her.  It didn’t matter how quiet I was, she always woke.  My Loren hadn’t been a morning person, unlike me.

I ran for a few hours, at least pleased that my endurance hadn’t fallen.  I dived and ran over the boulders and brush, though eventually I grew weary and stopped, checking myself over with my eyes.  I frowned at the burrs and mud that matted my fur and started the long and slightly painful process of removing the little hooks from my person. I bent and lifted my front hoof unto a boulder.

This is one of the habits I have always had in excess, self-grooming.  I could spend hours as a young one taking care of my person.  I think it was because it was always better to clean myself than let my mother do it, because my mother, for all her positive traits, was not one to spend much time on making sure I was tidy.  If I was messy, she worked efficiently and effectively and painfully.  And I was often messy as a child. 

I do not like to think it was any sort of vanity.

Time went by and I kept shifting and turning to make sure I got everything.  I was just finishing my back left hoof when I saw it, a hoof print.  I paused and looked at it intently in the faint light.  For a second, I thought it might be mine, but then, no, that was foolish.  My hooves were not so very large, not large enough to make these prints.  And these were not the prints of normal creatures of the woods.

They were Andalite.

My first thought, of course, that it was Visser Three’s marks, but no, Visser Three was not so much larger than me.  I looked around at the location I was in, wishing I hadn’t walked about so much, wishing it was lighter, that the moon was fuller.  My own hoof prints were visible, but there were also the large ones, and then ones where I was sure I hadn’t walked.

I frowned as I looked at the scene.  A possibility of two more Andalites on Earth?  Were they new arrivals?  That was all I could think.  I started following the larger prints, as I was certain they weren’t mine.  However, it was clear that this was a lost cause.  The ground was not so soft as to make many prints, and the Andalite was obviously running, had a large gait.  It meant he was exceptionally large.  If it came between the two of us, I cannot honestly say I would win.  Larger meant having a longer tail blade, stronger muscles.  But it did mean he would not be very nimble.  Not that I was very nimble.

There was nothing to it.  I was going to have to monitor this area, to see if the Andalites came back.  I wouldn’t tell the children, though, or Aximili.  Not until I was sure of their presence and their intentions.  There was no need to raise their expectations.

 ****

It was three weeks before I saw the Andalites, three weeks of being an owl in a tree and waiting impatiently.  Of course, it wasn’t three weeks of nonstop surveillance.  There were Yeerk battles, and for a few days we were forced to spend time in the frozen north.  I took a very, very, very long hot – no, scalding – shower when we got back, sat in the tub while the water cascaded down, until the pain became too unbearable and I moved to sit on the toilet seat and breath in steam.  I hate the cold.  Hate it.  I had begged my parents to not allow me to go to the icy moon, _Watri_ , to learn about, ironically, the Venber when I was a child.  I am still glad they had allowed me to not go.

The bathroom had become quickly filled, because both Matilda and Tobias sat in the steam with me.  Aximili probably would have been present as well, if he had known human bathrooms could do this.  We, all of us, sat on the floor and let the warmth get back in our bones.

But finally I saw them.  Yes, them, and I recognized them.  They had been on the ship with Aximili and me.  Commander Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad and Fighter Pilot Mertil-Iscar-Elmand.  They had never been under my personal command; nor I under theirs.  With my night eyes I watched them enter the clearing, and my heart stopped at the sight of Mertil.  A _vecol_.  I was shocked, momentarily disgusted with his presence.  But then, as I looked away, I was disgusted with myself.  Loren had scolded my ear off countless times, was so very angry at me that most times she refused to speak with me for days.  It was one thing that stayed with me, the sense of her disgust and shame with _me_.

I knew the pair were close _shorms_.  It explained Gafinilan’s continued friendship. 

I remained silent, did not show my presence as I followed them.  Owls are made for silence, after all, and I did not have to keep them in eyesight.  My ears heard them as well.  They ran for longer than I could remain in morph, and I was careful to not be seen by them.  I didn’t want them to know of my presence.

When they finished their run, I saw Gafinilan enter a cave a morph a human, watched as they went to a van, as Mertil ducked down in the back.  I followed them as they traveled to a home by the university, to a home where H. McClellan was proclaimed to live.  Watched from the garage window as Mertil went inside, as Gafinilan followed.  And then I flew home.

It would not be right to force them to fight.  But it would be even more wrong to let them remain unaware of us.

I planned.

 ****

I knocked on the door and waited.  I knocked again, and again, and again.

Finally, nearly ten minutes later, the door opened a crack and I saw a human male peak out.  Or at least the morph of one.  He seemed peeved.  I would be too, if I had had to rush and get into morph to answer a door for a deliveryman.  “Yes?”

I held out a sealed envelope.  “Delivery,” I said, smiling.

“I haven’t ordered anything.”

I checked my clipboard. “Is your name Henry McClellan?”  At his nod, I repeated, “Delivery for you, sir.”  I waved the envelope helpfully.

The door opened a bit more, and I saw Gafinilan wore a bathrobe.  “From who?”

“I just deliver them, sir.”  Once the letter was in his hand, I asked him to sign for it.  All a part of the act.  I doubted either of the Andalites knew how a proper deliveryman acted, but it was better to be safe.  Besides, can I not have a little fun?  I waited patiently until Gafinilan looked at me peevishly.  “I’ve got instructions to take your reply, sir, if you have one.”  I smiled.  “I’ll wait outside.”

Gafinilan nodded at me, closed the door in my face.  I looked around at the yard.  It was lovely.  Far better than my own yard.  Someone was a very good gardener, or paid someone else to be so. 

Ten minutes later the door opened.  About time, I almost groused.  It was hot and this uniform was itchy, and my attempt as self-amusement was rapidly declining in success.  Gafinilan looked pale, worried.

“Do you know who sent this?” he demanded.

“As I said, Mr. McClellan, I just deliver them.  Do you have a reply?”

“Yes.”  He paused, obviously speaking with Mertil.  “The message is … we don’t want to be involved.  Leave us be.”

“Right, Mr. McClellan,” I said, jotting the message down.  “And, in response, let’s see here …” I flipped through the envelopes.  “Here you go.  Apparently your sender planned for all responses.  Clever bastard.  Sign, please.”

Now Gafinilan seemed worried.  This time, though, I turned and left.  All I gave was my cell phone number and a message, written in the Andalite language.

_I do not expect you to fight, Commander Gafinilan, and I will not force you to.  We all have our missions in life and I know as any the sometimes leaving the fight for others is the best course._

_The rest of my band will not learn of you from me, nor of your choices and conditions._

_Take care of yourself and of Prince Mertil.  And if you ever decide to help, both of you will be welcome.  There is more of being a warrior than physically fighting._

_If you wish to meet me, be at the café address noted on the bottom on the fifteenth at two o’clock.  I shall approach you.  Do not feel threatened into this meeting._

_I will ask though that if you are in need of assistance, of friendship, or know of knowledge that can help us fight, to please call the number.  It will not be traced; it cannot be tapped._

_Be well._

_E_

_PS : Next time, when you are to design your home, call me.  You are in drastic need of assistance here, if you wish to blend in as a typical human male._

I had to add that last bit.  When I found the magazine pictures Gafinilan had used, I shook my head in both pity and contact embarrassment.  His home looked exactly like them.

 ****

I drank my cappuccino with Champ lying at my feet, leaning back in the outside café and waiting for Gafinilan.  I was wearing sunglasses, as it was very sunny.

Gafinilan arrived early.  I smiled as I watched him fidget and check his watch, (even though his Andalite ability to monitor time was thrice superior to that piece of human machinery,) looked around for a new arrival.  He had stared suspiciously as me for a moment and I nodded my cup at him in salutations.

It wasn’t until the clock chimed the hour that I moved.  Champ instantly stood up and followed me as I walked over to Gafinilan.  “May I have a seat?”

Gafinilan scowled at me.  “I am waiting for someone.”

“Yes, Commander, I know.  Me.  May I have a seat?”

I waited until he nodded before I sat.

“You were the deliveryman,” he accused.

“Yes, I was,” I agreed.  “And don’t worry about Champ.  He’s a normal dog,” I said as Gafinilan looked suspiciously at the dog.

“Who are you?”

“Alan Fangor.”

Gafinilan graced at me with an annoyed expression.  “No, who are you really?” he hissed.

“Al Fangor.”  I tried to accent the name in a pronounced fashion, but it did not seem to help.  After a pause, because Gafinilan still didn’t get it, I added, “Prince.”

He caught on after another moment.  “You survived?”  I didn’t answer the obviously rhetorical question.  “How many others?”

“One other.”

“Just the two of you fight?”  He sounded surprised.

I took a sip of my drink.  “I did not say that.  We have allies.”   Looking around, I said, “If we are to continue the conservation as such, I would prefer to go to a secure location.”

“Did you have a place in mind?”

My smiled widened.  “Did you bring your car?”  Gafinilan nodded.  “Good.  Follow me.”

I led the way to a hotel, to a room I had taken care of, in the Mustang.  If asked, I would claim I had taken it because convertibles were easy to notice and follow, because it would be the truth, even if they thought me lying.  The top down but under a tree for shade, I kept Champ in the car, his leash tied to the door with enough slack that if he did leap out, he could at least lie down on the ground without choking himself.  He whined at me hopelessly, and I laughed.  “Sorry, ol’ boy.  No dogs allowed.”

When I turned, Gafinilan was giving me a calculated look and I turned serious.  “Come along, Commander.”

I led the way up to an upper story room and entered first, taking off my sunglasses and picking up a Dr. Pepper.  “Help yourself.”

“No thank you.”  Yes, Commander Gafinilan was still as serious as I heard he was, and I took a seat, staring up at him.

“I’m not going to shoot you, Gafinilan.  I only want to speak.”

Gafinilan slowly sat.  “That is what I do not understand, Elfangor.  You have no intention of forcing myself to join your war?”  I wondered what he had heard of me to wonder such a thing.

“No.  Forced warriors are poor warriors.  And it is not my war.”  I sipped my pop.  “I learned of your and Mertil’s presence entirely by accident.  I was out running and I came upon your hoof prints.  Yes, I will admit, I hoped you would be willing to join us.  We are few in numbers and need all the help we can get.  But I understand life cannot play the way we wish.”  I stared into the distance, then shook my head. 

“So you understand.”

“About life?  Yes.  How is Mertil?”

Gafinilan stiffened, then noticed I wasn’t anything more than curious, that I was sympathetic.  No disgust.  “He is well.  As well as can be expected.”

I nodded.  “May I ask … how did it happen?”

He told me of their crash, took full blame.  I did not agree with him, but I understood.  Andalite honor, friendship.  They are strong. 

“That isn’t the only reason you don’t fight,” I said after awhile, remembering what I had seen when I watched them.  “Are you also injured?”  At his face, I quickly backpedaled from the territory I shouldn’t have trespassed into.  “No, you need not answer it.”

The insult was already done.  “How did you know?” he asked stiffly.

“I watched you run with Mertil.”

“Of course.”  He looked away, out the window.  “I have _Soola’s disease_.  So you see, I would not be a good warrior for very long.  I will be dead in a few months.”

 _Soola’s disease_.  I closed my eyes in pity, in sympathy.  “You have managed well on Earth,” I said, changing the topic.

“It has been difficult.  As you know.”  He turned and gave me a smile.  “And yet, you criticize my house.”

I laughed.  “I apologize.  It is just that it is not … correct for a human male.  Most of them, anyway.”

“I would like to see your house to see how a true one should look.”  There was a tone of challenge.

“Find me and I welcome you.”

“How did you manage to blend in?” he asked curiously.  “You seem more ingrained.”

I would not tell him the truth.  “What choice do I have?  If I wish to fight Yeerks, I must know their prey.  And the Andalite fleets are years away.  The fools do not think Earth is worth the effort.”  I spat.

“Is it, Elfangor?”

I snapped my head at Gafinilan.  “Spoken like one who knows nothing of this world!  Open your eyes, Gafinilan.  Nine billion hosts.  Clever ones.  Yes, technologically deficient, but they have numbers.  And they have Earth.  Look at the planet!  Look at the creatures, the plants, the animals, the resources!  And you say this is not what Yeerks have been looking for?  You are a fool.”

He was not persuaded.  Indeed, he thought me the fool.  I shook my head bitterly.  “We are losing the war.  Not just here, but everywhere.  What do you think will happen with nine billion more hosts are available?  It is simple math.”

“And you and your warriors are all that stand between the Yeerks winning, Prince Elfangor?” Gafinilan said sarcastically.

I took a drink, finishing my Dr. Pepper, and stood up.  “At least we are standing.  And it has been a pleasure meeting you, Commander Gafinilan.  However, my time is running out and I have to go before my warriors decide to hunt me out.”

I started to leave, then stopped.  “I do not care if you spy on my warriors as well.  But understand, should you do anything to place any of them in jeopardy, I will kill you.  Should you betray us to the Yeerks, I will kill both of you.”

Gafinilan was shocked and he almost attacked me.  “I would never –!”

“This will be my only warning,” I said, voice cold.  “I know this planet more than you, how to do things.  And my allies can even break Andalite technology.”  Then I smiled.  “Feel free to stop by for supper, though.”

I left a dumbfounded Gafinilan in my wake.

 ****

I knew Gafinilan would take me up on my offer.  He had to.  He was an Andalite, and once he found out who and what my warriors were, he was going to be an Andalite and yell at me in a very Andalite way.

Loudly and pompously, if you’re curious.

I had been in the back yard planting some flowers, idly throwing any ball Champ managed to bring over to me, and listening to loud music when Matilda called my name from the back door.  “Umm … Alan? Alan?  Alan!”

Perhaps the music had been too loud.  I looked over to her, exasperated, holding the plant.  “What?”

She looked a bit worried.  “Someone’s here.  To see you.  He wants to talk.  He says his name is McClellan.”

“I’ve been expecting him.”  At her surprised look, I shrugged.  “He works at the University.  I’ll be inside in just a minute.”

“Why –”

“Why don’t you give him a drink?  It’s a hot day,” I interrupted.

Part of me didn’t want to go through with this.  I hated to get yelled at by idiots.  However this wasn’t something I could postpone.  I could only hope the others wouldn’t grow very curious about him.  I knew even if I ordered him to be left alone, someone would disobey me.  They were children, after all.  Or, if not that, as is the case for Matilda, then female.

The plant taken care of, I stood, walked to the house, and stepped inside.  Champ tried to follow, but I shook my head.  “No, this is one discussion where I probably shouldn’t have a protective dog.  Go, shoo.”

I slipped my shoes off so I wouldn’t trail dirt throughout the house and, hearing the stilted conversation, moved towards it.  They were in the living room, Gafinilan standing stiffly.  I smiled at him.  “Mr. McClellan, how nice to see you again.  Has Matilda offered you something to drink?”

Matilda scowled at me.  “I’ve declined,” Gafinilan said, projecting definite hostility at me. 

“Well, I’m just going to clean up and get some lemonade.  Matilda, why don’t you go do the shopping or something.”  Not a question.  Order.

She heard it.  Her jaw dropped and she followed me from the room.  “What’s going on?” she hissed.

“I told you.  He’s from the University.  Apparently, they don’t like it when they don’t have physical records of someone attending.  I’m taking care of it,” I said, turning on the tap.

“And how is that?  You don’t even have any physical records.”

“Please.  I have the Chee. They can forge anything.  I’ve already got all the paperwork I need.”  And I did.  And it was only a little white lie, in the way that, at that time, no university official had contacted me.  Now, well, Gafinilan had.  “I don’t need you here,” I stated, drying my hands.  “This is just simple human business that I am well-able to take care of.  I’ve already looked in Mr. McClellan, I’ve done all the surveillance and all the background checks.  I trust him.”

For now, anyway.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

“Do I tell you every time I get a bill?” I snapped.  “I can manage my life, this life.  Just go.  We need food, and since he’s here, I can’t go.  And Aximili gets impossible when there isn’t anything to eat.”

Matilda continued staring at me, trying to read me, but I had the ultimate poker face.  “Fine.  I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Take your time.”  I poured two glasses of lemonade and followed her to the living room, where Gafinilan was still standing at attention.  Matilda gave him a withering gaze before leaving.  Neither of us moved or spoke until her car left the driveway, left sight from the window.

“Lemonade?” I asked, holding out the glass.

“You fool!” Gafinilan hissed, and for a moment I was worried he was going to knock the glass from my hand.  “You inconceivable fool!”

I took that as a no, and I sat back in a chair.  The position put me at a disadvantage, made Gafinilan seem to be the one in control, but I had to show that this didn’t affected me.

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

“If I’m a fool, I should think not,” I said.  “Enlighten me.”

And he did, Andalite-fashion.  Yelled at me, as if I was an _aristh_ and he was my Prince, and screamed out _Seerow’s kindness_ and everything.  At first, I was angry, so angry that I had to take deep breaths to keep myself from shattering my glass, but then I felt nothing but disdain.  He wasn’t fighting.  He had no say, no right to say.  And then I felt pity, because it seemed like Gafinilan would like nothing better than to be able to fight.  Because then it meant he would be well, that Mertil would be whole.

Maybe he wasn’t really saying that.  Maybe he was just really upset with me. 

He finally got done screaming, and he stood taking deep breaths and his hands in fists.  “And you have nothing to say to defend yourself?” he demanded while I continued to sit in silence.

I tilted my head.  “No.  The guilty have no defense.”  I took a drink.  “However, I will not stand idly by while the Yeerks take another world.”

“So you break our most sacred law?  You recruit children?  They are your warriors?”

“The young have passion.  It is the youth of this world that gets things done.  Besides, you’re not fighting.”  A dig.

Gafinilan sputtered.  “When they are taken, there will be a new law.  _Elfangor’s Kindess_ ,” he sneered as he sat gingerly.

“At least I’ll be remembered as someone who tried to do something. What will you be remembered as?  A tragic victim of _Soola’s disease_ , a warrior who died on the Dome in orbit of this little backwater planet, a friend of a _vecol_?  Public opinion is a poor reason to not do something.”

“You truly are a fool.”

“We are all fools.  We fight a losing war, a hopeless cause.”

“We will win!”

“‘We’?” I mocked.  “What is this, _we,_ that you speak of?”

Gafinilan looked away, was silent.

I took pity on him.  “You what to know what the funny this is about hopeless causes?” He looked at me.  “They’re the ones worth fighting for, worth risking everything for.  But they’re not worth dying for.  They’re worth living for.  Like friendship.”

He looked at me, understood what I was saying. Our world, friendship with _vecols_ is worthless, a hopeless cause in and of itself.  “Even if you and your children-warriors save this world, it will not stop the Yeerks out in the universe, nor stop them from still attacking this world again.  You know that?”

I nodded.  “Yes.  I may be a fool, but I am not stupid.  This war will take me to the grave, tomorrow or twenty years from now.  I have accepted that it will out-live me, that I will not live in a time of peace.”  Depressing.  “But perhaps my death will bring a stop to the war in some fashion, that I will have done some to have ultimately ended it sooner by being part of it.  For better or worse.”  I gave a lop-sided grin.  “Hopefully for better.”

“It is all any warrior can hope for.”

We were silent.  Gafinilan must have realized that screaming at me wouldn’t undo the past, but he finally said, “You’ll lose your status.  You’ll be disgraced.”

Through a bitter laugh, I said, “I should never have been made warrior, Commander.  Do you know what I did?  I rammed my ship into a blade ship, trying to kill the visser.  Visser Three.”

Gafinilan chuckled.  “Still worthy of being made a warrior.  We are all foolish as _aristh_ s.”  He looked at me thoughtfully.  “I had always wondered why Visser Three despises you.”

“Do you wish to know the whole of the dirty history, Commander?  It does not reflect well on me.”  I gave him no chance to answer.  “I was there when Prince Alloran was taken.  I was responsible.  I created the _Abomination_.  I am already disgraced, Commander Gafinilan.  It’s just that no one knows it.”  He was staring at me openly, shocked at my admission.  “Then again, by now I should be formally disgraced.  The Council must know about the children.  Doesn’t matter.  Doesn’t matter,” I repeated softly, staring out the window, into the distance.

“You’ve had contact with the Council?” Gafinilan asked, choosing to leave the other topic alone.

“Yes, over a year ago.  I probably did not help our cause, as I called Lirem-Arrepoth-Terrouss an idiot to his face.”

Gafinilan gave a deep laugh, a true guffaw.  “You did not!”

Even with everything, I smiled at the memory.  “Yes, I did.  I lost my temper.”

“You only spoke the truth,” he said.  “He is a fool.”

I sighed.  “Yes, but a fool who is in charge of directing our forces.  And notice that we have none here presently.  I insulted him gravely in front of the Council, especially when I said it was his fault the Yeerks took the Hork-Bajir.”

The Commander frowned.  “I was not aware of that.”

“I exaggerated.  He was merely an advisor on their world.  I said his _advice_ certainly benefitted the Yeerks.  But he is making the same mistake, leaving Earth defenseless.”

“Ah.”  He looked at me thoughtfully.  “It is true what they say about you.”

“I am almost afraid to ask,” I said, trying to give a laugh.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but when I met you, on the ship … I thought you were an egotistical minion serving the Council.  A great warrior, yes,” he added quickly, “and dedicated to stopping the Yeerks, but basically in their service for the glory.”

I was quiet, almost hurt by his impression.  “Am I that terrible?”  I could not remember that time, could not – cannot see how other Andalites would see me.  I’ve been for so long in their hero status that I’ve stopped paying attention to their behavior, but I did not want to think I acted in a way that would give credit to Gafinilan’s view.

Gafinilan looked uncomfortable.  “No, I do not ….”  He paused.  “Mertil never thought so.  He said … perhaps he was correct … perhaps I was a touch jealous.”  At my incredulous face, he continued quickly.  “You do not know how difficult it is to be a commander fighting alongside the _great Elfangor_ ,” he said, and I could hear the mocking.  “Warriors under my command desired to be under yours simply because they would be under you, when I spoke to friends and family, they only wished to hear of you.”

I gave a pained expression.

“I am a great warrior,” Gafinilan continued, and there was no boast, no false modesty.  Just simple fact, and I nodded without even thinking to, because it _was_ such a fact.  He _was_.  Though I didn’t personally know Gafinilan, I knew enough to honor him that.  “Perhaps you don’t see it anymore – Mertil always argued that you were far more grounded than I, though I never saw it – but others give you honors and privileges which other warriors deserve as well, but do not get because you are Prince Elfangor.  We are automatically less than we are because of you.”

“I am sorry,” I said quietly, wishing I could say more.  I knew my fame made things difficult for Aximilli – I could not imagine being only known as _Aximili’s brother_ , if our roles had been reversed, to every Andalite, to constantly be judged and have to meet such expectations – but I never thought to imagine how my fellow warriors felt, warriors who were and are my equals, my _betters_.  To think, I had always acted proud when I learned who I was fighting alongside, happily told my parents and comrades.  Father had even been impressed when I mentioned Gafinilan. But I never worried others were think less of me because of whom I fought alongside with, could not imagine how I’d feel.

“Yes, well.  It did not help that you had just had the greatest honor of bestowing the Gift onto _arisths_ at the Academy.  The way you had mentioned it … I realize now you had been merely stating a fact, not boasting, but it rubbed my fur the wrong way.”  He made a face.

I could not remember how I said it, when I had, except when I first boarded, when I apologized to the captain for almost being late.  Did Ganifilan mean then?  How had I said it?  I did not want to ask, for fear that I could see why he had been angered.

“It did not help that were being stationed _here_ , when we thought there was no threat.  I, a great warrior, assigned to babysit this world in safety when there were Yeerks to battle elsewhere!  It was because of my illness, I know,” he spat.  “They did not trust me elsewhere.” 

His fists were tight.  “I cursed the doctors who told, ranted and raved when I got my transfer orders.  Poor Mertil.”  Ganifilan chuckled.  “He had to put up with much during those days, so much I was surprised when he told me he put in a request for a transfer and it was allowed.  For friendship, that’s why he said he did it.  He shouldn’t have done it.  He shouldn’t have.  The price was too high.”

“I also asked to be assigned here,” I said vaguely, not wishing him to dwell on other possibilities but uncertain as to what else to speak about.  “I knew the Yeerks would eventually target it.”

He gave a small, bitter laugh.  “You steal the bit of comfort I gave myself.  I said that even if I am stationed here, in this disgraceful safety, at least so is the great Elfangor.  I wondered what you had done to displease them so.”

I had nothing to say to his words.

“I even thought you did it to keep your brother safe.  That you used your influence to send him on this safe little mission.  Oh, how I mocked him.”

That roused my temper quickly.  “Because he is my brother?” I snapped, and I saw Gafinilan was surprised at my anger.

“I mean no disrespect … now,” he added.  “You did not see… no, that is not right.  I admit it, I was being petty.  He is an _aristh_ and didn’t deserve my scorn any more than any other _aristh_ would.  It is merely … there was a sort of adoration in him.  Now I can see it as something any _aristh_ could feel for his Prince, what any younger sibling might feel, but then?  All I saw was blatant favoritism and utterly pathetic attentions.  I do apologize.”

I did not feel like accepting his apology.  There had been _no reason_ for Aximili to not have respect from warriors on the Dome, respect due to his being an _aristh_.  Yes, of course I expected the teasing and the air of superiority from the older warriors, but he had deserved no hostility.  I wondered if Aximili knew others thought such things about him, if that had touched him.  “Pay it no mind,” I said tightly.

It was obvious Gafinilan knew I was not truly accepting his words, but he let it slide.

“If it helps you any, by now, I should be formally disgraced, my name spat like Seerow’s.  The children and Matilda, they,” I chuckled grimly, “well, you won’t believe this, but they got sucked into Z-space by a passing Dome ship.”

“Impossible!”

I laughed, perhaps madly.  “I wish.  I had thought being the one that Controllers were going to be shooting at was the dangerous part.  Little did I know morphing a mosquito to suck the blood of a coma patient would turn into fighting a battle on the Leerans’ planet.”  Suddenly I remembered what they told me, and what little levity I felt left.  “The captain of the Dome ship was a traitor.”

“Impossible!” he repeated with even greater force.

“No.  Possible. I only wish I knew why.”

Gafinilan sneered.  “He was a coward.  A weak fool.”

“Perhaps.  But it makes you worry about how many other weak fools there are.”

He caught my meaning.  It shattered our ideal, our _safety_ that there would be no Andalites turning to the Yeerk side of their own free will.  If there was one, there would be another, and another.  There is _never_ “just one,” despite all the reports and claims.  And, to borrow from human history, even if there was just one gunman, we would always be looking for another on the knoll. 

Again we were silent.  Gafinilan finally took his lemonade.

“Your house is nice,” he said awkwardly.

“Thank you.  Nothing out of _Housekeeping_ for me.  The children were surprised as well.”

“How did you choose them?  The female and the children?”

“The children saw me crash.  Jake and Rachel joined because Jake’s brother, Rachel’s cousin, is a Controller.  Cassie, because she wished to save the world, to help Jake and Rachel.  Tobias, probably to feel like he was part of something.”  Because he looked up to me as some sort of hero, because he was my son and obviously took after his mother, and maybe a little bit of me, but I didn’t say that.  “Marco, because he learned his mother was Visser One’s host.”

“And the female?”

I kept my face controlled.  “Mother of one of the children, and a human Visser Three has a vendetta against.  She is technically in hiding.  Her name is really Loren, not Matilda.”

“The male human with the yellow-brown hair is her son, correct?”

I nodded.  “You’ve done your homework.  And the phrase you want is dark blond, not yellow-brown.”  Gafinilan frowned at the correction, more out of annoyance than anger.  “How long did you watch them?”

He was vague with his answer.  He was probably still watching them.  I didn’t care, so long as he put them in no harm.

“Are you going to bring more to your cause?” he asked suddenly.  “You must have an _Escafil_ device, though how is beyond me.  Aren’t they usually under lock and key?”

Sorry, that is my secret, though should he think about it, I knew he could figure it out.  He already was aware I gave the Gift to the Academy students.  But as to the topic as to bring more into the fight, I am not sure.  I have wondered about it for some time.  “Only time will tell.”

“You cannot win with five children, an _aristh_ , and a female, Elfangor.”

“Are you telling me to break _Seerow’s Kindess_ again?”

“No, of course not.”  A very quick answer.

“How are you adjusting to your human life?”

Gafinilan was surprised at the question.  “It is difficult,” he said slowly, warily.  “But I have managed.”  He paused.  “Not as well as you, though, I’ll admit.”

I shrugged.  That part of my life would remain private.  “I muddle through, I suppose.”

“I’ve researched your identity.  It is … remarkable.  Mine is not so very thorough.  But that is not very important for me.”

I caught the meaning, of course.  “Meaning no disrespect, but you are going to allow yourself to die?  You could become a _nothlit_.”

My suggestion surprised him as well as insulted.  “That is cowardice!”

“What is Mertil to do once you die?” I countered.  “Stay in the home of yours, alone?  Who is to pay the bills?  Get supplies if needed?  Keep him company?  Or is he planning to commit a ritual suicide?”  It would not be unheard of for a _vecol_ and I wouldn’t hold it against Mertil if that was his plan.

Gafinilan was silent, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m not saying do it.  I’m saying think of the consequences.”  _Besides, when you die, and Mertil as well, then there’ll be Andalite bodies I’ll probably have to get rid of_.  But I didn’t say that.  “In any case, whatever you chose to do is your choice.  But I will make two things known to you that might influence Mertil and you.”

I must have been annoying him.  He was getting angry with me.  “Then speak.”

“The first, we have allies that, when you die, could house Mertil.  I haven’t spoken with them, but no doubt the Chee would be willing.”

He was suspicious, of course.  “The Chee?  I have never heard of them.”

“Earth has countless secrets,” I said, “and I will not speak more about them without their permission.  The Chee are completely harmless and would give Mertil no harm.  The only thing that might be necessary is for Mertil to have a slight fondness for dogs.”  I smiled at my gift for understatement.  “With them, he would at least have companionship once you are gone, and they will not judge him by Andalite standards.

“The other is an offer to live in a secluded valley with a group of free Hork-Bajir.”

“Free Hork-Bajir?” Gafinilan exclaimed.  “You have a clan of free ones?”

“We don’t have anything,” I corrected.  “We merely freed a few and sent them there.  They run and govern themselves with no interference from us.  You would have to obey their rules and orders.”

“Hork-Bajir rules and orders?” Gafinilan laughed pompously. 

“Toby Hamee is no ordinary Hork-Bajir,” I warned.  “She is clever, a genetic hiccup, and she leads them well.  I know she has been leading raids to free other Hork-Bajir.”  Such a fact did not please me;  the risk of the Yeerks learning the truth grew exponentially with each of their raids.  But I knew I had no right to tell Toby Hamee how to lead her people, how to save them.  She was merely doing what the children and I were doing, and we were the same risk to her.

Of course Gafinilan didn’t believe me.

“As you know, the Hork-Bajir are a simple people.  They would not judge either of you, as well.  However, if you go to the valley, the children will learn of you.  Hork-Bajir cannot hold their tongues.  And again, we would need to get permission from Toby, though I doubt she would turn you away.  This way, you may live your last days as an Andalite, not as a human.”

Silence fell again.  “We will discuss your suggestions,” Gafinilan said at last.  I knew he was tempted.  Being human can be very difficult, as I well know.

“Take your time.  The Chee have been around an eon or so, and the Hork-Bajir valley will outlast you.”  Part of me winced at the callous reminder of his death, though I didn’t mean it that way.

“Thank you.”

We sat in silence for a few seconds, each uncomfortably drinking our lemonade.  There really nothing else to speak of. “Well, I suppose you should be going.”

“Yes.”

“Feel free to contact me at any time.”  I stood and showed him to the door.  “And give Prince Mertil my greetings.”

We were at the door when he spoke again.  “Prince Elfangor, why do you show no revulsion to Mertil’s status?” Gafinilan asked, clearly wishing to know the answer.

“Because this is war.” He looked at me, not quite understanding, and I sighed, turning away to look at the wall, through the wall.  “We all become damaged by it, all become _vecols_.  For some, the wounds are just more visible.  Good day, Commander.”

I stood at the door and watched him drive away.  And then, very quietly, very angrily, I said, “The next time you eavesdrop on one of my conversations, my tail shall meet the back of your head.”

To the unobservant, they would have thought I was speaking to Champ, who was sitting on the porch with his ears lowered at my tone.

I was not so unobservant.  The dog wore no collar.

“You will not speak of this to the children.  And you still have to do the shopping.”  I turned and shut the door soundly.

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that after 5+ years of writing this thing, I can still type Gafinilan without even thinking about it?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paging Elfangor, Squirrels in the Attic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 27

By the time the children finished school and came to my home, Aximili had already filled Matilda and me in on the Ellimist’s request.  I was beyond incensed at again having him involve the children for his amusements, even if he was supposedly asking a favor.  To save the Iskoorts, as if we were not having enough trouble saving humans.

When Aximili said only seven were to be the champions, I had a very sickening feeling I was not one of those numbers. 

It was not right!  They were my warriors!  I was to lead them, not let them go off into a dangerous – no, potentially _lethal_ battle without me. 

Cassie raised the poignant question of whether or not they _could_ win.  I wanted to believe that yes, they could, the Ellimist would not want to send them to their deaths – I had to believe that – but the fact was that they could also lose, and there would be nothing I could do to help them.  Nothing. 

That tasted worse in my hooves than any other thought, even the thought that I would be willing to sacrifice an entire species for the safety of my _arisths_. 

And when Jake reminded me about his actually seeing this Crayak, dreamt of him these many nights with the promise of, _soon_ , lingering, I was even more firm in my desire to not allow them.

But, the problem was, it _was not_ my choice.  Yes, I could give my opinion – no doubt they visibly _saw_ my opinion – but I could not enforce it.  Not if the Ellimist knew they were willing.  I may be their commanding officer, but, truly, I wasn’t.  They listened and obeyed me, sometimes, but this wasn’t part of the normal chain-of-command found on a ship.  Nothing was official.  If they all decided to leave or, worse, join the Yeerks, I could do nothing to stop them.  (Well, except kill them, but I do not think I could even do that.  They have made me too soft-hearted.)

It was shortly after Chee arrived.  I could count.  All together, there were nine of us.  The children, Aximili, Erek, Matilda, and me.  The Ellimist had only spoken with seven of them.  He had chosen his seven. 

“So, what do we do?” Cassie asked.

“We have to fight,” Rachel said.

I looked at all of them, and they all looked at me.  The Chee was impassive, an android expression of no emotion, the children and Aximili were concerned.  Matilda looked worried, glances darting between me and the others.  Perhaps she understood what I was feeling.  Maybe she felt the same way – that _we_ were the adults, guardians, and the rest of them were children.  That we would be sending them alone, where we couldn’t at least pretend we could protect them.

It was all so confusing.  What did I care about these Iskoort?  Nothing.  They were _nothing_ to me.  But … but my stomach twisted at the thought that I could be responsible for the destruction of an entire species.  Just a hypothetical thought.  Would I actually lose sleep over it?  Would I really care?  I wasn’t sure.  I’d like to think I would, but then again, I didn’t.  It was strange to find I didn’t even know this about myself.

But, then again, this ultimately wasn’t about whether or not _I_ could sleep at night.

“It is your choice,” I said.  “All of yours.”

Erek spoke.  “I want to go.  I have to go.”

“What good are you going to be?” Rachel asked.  “You can’t fight.  Elfangor would be better.  Even Loren.”  Matilda rolled her eyes at the assessment.  “We need firepower.”

“But I am not wanted,” I said, perhaps bitterly.  “And don’t underestimate Erek.  He, at least, has seen the Howlers in action.  Such knowledge could be useful.”

“It will.  You can’t overpower the Howlers one-on-one.  You have to outthink them.  I can help there,” Erek agreed.

Rachel seemed willingly to accept that.

“So, should we go die?” Marco asked.

“I vote yes,” Rachel said.  They all did, though Aximili had cast me a quick glance for approval.  It was unanimous, and almost as soon as it was vocalized, they all disappeared.  I blinked at the space, and then whirled, gripping the counter with tight knuckles.

“They’ll be all right, Elfangor,” Matilda said, moving to touch my arm.  “You’ll see.”

I shook my head.  “I cannot be so hopeful.  Howlers.”

“You can’t think like that,” she scolded.  “The Ellimist wouldn’t have chosen them if they didn’t have a chance.  He wants to save the Iskoort.”

“Does he?” I asked, going to the refrigerator and retrieving a pop.  After a glance, I got her one as well.  “Just because he says he does doesn’t mean he really does.”

“You’re too suspicious,” she said as she opened the can, but I saw she was trying to not accept my worry as well.

“Perhaps.”

We sat at the table and nursed our drinks.

“They’ll be all right,” Matilda said. 

I didn’t respond.

“Erek’s with them.  And they’re all great morphers and fighters,” she continued.  “They’ll be fine.”

I tried to smile, to agree, but I just couldn’t.  They were children, all of them.

Again we were quiet and didn’t move until Champ came downstairs and started to whine at that door to be let outside.  Matilda stood up and let him out, watched him run around to do his business.  When both of them returned, Matilda grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t stay here.  I can’t, just imagining what they’re going through.  And neither can you.  We’re going out.  The movies,” she said, voice rough.

“But –”

“No buts,” she snapped.  “We’re going out.  We’re going to pretend this isn’t happening, that they’re not in any danger.  We’re going to come back late and pretend they all just went to bed.”

I looked at her.  She was trying not to cry.  Maybe it was because she had never had to stand aside to let other warriors fight.  I had some practice in that.  The first time you aren’t allowed to join, it is terrible.  And she is a human, a female, a mother.  Such things perhaps made her more prone to the feelings. I could at least offer a distraction, so I tried to smile.  “What would you like to see?”

“Everything.”

 ****

We stayed out impossibly late.  So late it was early, because distractions could always been found.  But they didn’t completely stop the small corner of our minds from remembering about the children, Aximili, and Erek.  It was always there, and perhaps it made us a bit more desperate for distraction.

We saw four movies in a row, went to a dingy little highway-side diner that was open after midnight and ingested the greasy stove-top specials and bad coffee, and put quarters in the jukebox and played songs until the quarters were gone and the staff was tired of our singing and presence. 

But our objective had been met, because sleep was easier, being so tired.  At least, I’m sure Matilda slept easily.  Humans need more sleep than Andalites, since Earth days are shorter than Andalite ones.  For the most part, Aximili and I had slid into the 24-hour schedule, but we can manage on a longer day.  While I would have slept, I was not so dead-tired as to drop off immediately or to sleep late.

The next morning, none of the children, Aximili, or the Chee had appeared.  I took a long run, nearly to lunch, to relieve the anxiety, and when I got back, Matilda was up as well, trying to clean an already reasonably clean home.  She looked poorly, with dark circles under her eyes and a general down-trodden mood.  When I had entered, she had rushed towards the sound and looked disappointed that it was only me.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

Matilda shrugged.  “I’m not very hungry.”

“You should eat,” I said and went to the stove.  “What would you like?”

“I told you, I’m not hungry,” she said petulantly.

“Pasta is it.”

“You know, food does not make everything better.”

I gave her a look as I took the box of pasta from the cupboard.  “Yes, it does.  Not a lot, but it makes it better.”

“Andalites.”

“Humans.”

Within fifteen minutes we had a delicious meal, and for someone who claimed to have no hunger, Matilda ate without too much coaxing.  I had to make a note to buy more sauce.  With nothing to talk about, we ate in silence until Champ perked up and bounded to the door.

Both of us looked at each other.  While Champ wasn’t one to bark needlessly – though he did greet me enthusiastically and enjoyed the good game of _torment whatever is in the tree_ – he did tend to make a call at least once to visitors. Hoping against hope, Matilda followed him while I helped myself to another plate of noodles.  “Who is it?” I called.

“Some guy,” she said, disappointment in her voice.  The door opened and she asked, “Can I help you?”

“I believe I prefer your hair in its natural shade, Loren.”

My fork dropped.  I _recognized_ that voice, and I rushed to the door.  Matilda was standing there speechless and there, there was the infernal creature.  “What are _you_ doing here?” I snapped.

Matilda looked between the two of us, while Champ sniffed that being.  She was confused.  He looked like an older human, harmless, but those were the worst.  “Who … how did you know my name?” she demanded, sounding both scared and angry.

The Ellimist merely smiled and petted Champ’s head.

“He’s an Ellimist,” I spat.

With that, she took a step away and looked afraid, but then she realized something.  “Are they okay?  Is something wrong?”

He smiled.  “They are alive, if that’s what concerns you.  May I come in?”

“You never asked for permission before,” I said back.

“Elfangor,” Matilda scolded and then graciously let that thing in.  Didn’t she know anything?  What if he had decided to be a vampire for his amusement?

I had forgotten my thoughts weren’t my own, because he looked at me and smiled.  “You have watched too many human horror films, Prince Elfangor, but I think you forget some of the more important traits,” he said, amused, and I felt my cheeks flame in embarrassment before I turned away.  But I saw Matilda’s curious face.

“They are all right, though, all of them?” she asked instead once he was inside.

“They are alive,” he repeated.

“Why are you here?” I demanded, once my embarrassment had ebbed.

“I thought you would be concerned about them,” the Ellimist replied in a tone that did not fool me.  “Might I join you for lunch?”

Matilda was surprised.  “How … ummm,” she cast a look to me before saying, “yes, I guess.  If you like.”

She led him away and I looked down at Champ.  “Bad dog.  You’re supposed to attack beings like that.”

Champ gave a little whine before trotting after his mistress.  I was tempted to avoid the kitchen, appetite lost, but then I realized that the female shouldn’t be left alone with such a duplicitous being and I shouldn’t ignore possible intel. 

So I squared my shoulders and went back to my meal.  The Ellimist already had a plate.  “You always did cook delicious meals, Elfangor,” he commented, as if I had invited him to meals before.

Perhaps it was rude that I didn’t deign to accept his comment, and my actions seemed to amuse him even more. 

Matilda leaned forward in her seat.  “What’s happening to them?  You can tell us that, can’t you?”

He smiled at her.  “They have thought of a plan, as I hoped they would.  In an hour or two, it will all be over, I’m sure.”

“One way or another,” I said.

“Yes.  One way or another,” he agreed.

Matilda frowned at me.  She didn’t like the reminder that their safety wasn’t set in stone.  For a few moments we ate in silence.  The Ellimist was comfortable, happy to eat, while Matilda altered her gaze between the Ellimist and me, and I ignored the others.  “Why are you here, if you don’t mind?  I mean, the others don’t really make it seem like you would.”  She tried smiling.

“Ah, but they are basing my actions on stories.  And some past experience.  And dissatisfaction with personal choices,” he added, giving me a look. 

“Based on toying with their lives,” I countered. 

“We don’t interfere.”

I rolled my eyes. 

“But you did, didn’t you?” Matilda asked.  “I mean, you asked the kids to do this.  If they die, I think that would be classified as interfering.”

He didn’t answer, smiling serenely.  There was sauce on his chin. 

“That’s Ellimists.  They _claim_ everything and mean nothing,” I explained.

“Such a low opinion,” the Ellimist tisked.

“They interfere, but they call in _mending_ ,” I continued.  “But it is all for their greater purpose and pleasure.”

“So say the Andalite stories.”

Matilda didn’t know what to say.  “Well, I don’t care,” she said, “if it means the kids are fine.”

“Even though he put them in danger in the first place.”

“I didn’t give them the morphing ability,” the Ellimist said innocently.

My fists tightened.  There was nothing I could say to counter that, for it had been my own choice.  It made them my responsibility, which was the reason this “noninterference” chaffed the most.

The Ellimist looked at me.  “You remind me of an Andalite I knew long ago.”

“Did you torment him as well?”

He laughed, something loud and perhaps true.  “He probably thought so.  They usually do.”

“What was his name?” Matilda asked.

“He was a leader to his herd,” the Ellimist continued, ignoring her question.  Though he seemed pleased by the memory, I wondered how much of his fondness was an act.  Ellimists are Tricksters, after all.  “Very, very long ago.  Before even the Pemalites were around.”

“I thought the Pemalites were space-traveling when Andalites were just learning to control fire,” I said sarcastically to mask my true curiosity. 

He didn’t respond or continue. 

Matilda was confused.  “If Andalites are older than Pemalites, then how … wouldn’t you be more advanced?” she asked me.

I shook my head at such a simple misconception.  “No, not necessarily.  Species evolve at different rates.  The Pemalites merely went faster.”

“Like the Hork-Bajir,” the Ellimist agreed.

“The Hork-Bajir didn’t evolve.  They were created,” I frowned.  “By the Arn.”

“What?  Do you mean … the Pemalites were created, then, too?” Matilda asked.

I blinked as it made sense in my mind.  Of course.  No species could be so pure, if the Chees’ propaganda was actually _fact_ , without outside influence.  How could it?  Evolution wasn’t _kind_.  Species did not come into existence already in their higher, more peaceful states.  “You made them, didn’t you?  The Pemalites,” I accused.   

“Just because you make a meal does not mean the ingredients weren’t already there,” he replied.  “As a chef, you know that, Elfangor.”

“Then you interfered with their development!  So much for your claims.”

“Elfangor,” Matilda hissed. 

The Ellimist merely laughed to himself.  “I do not mind, Loren.  Some Andalite males, especially ones that feel their herd is threatened, can be very confrontational.”

I felt very angry at being spoken about in such manner, and my eyes narrowed when Matilda covered her smile and said innocently, “Can they?  I never noticed.”

“Some do hide it well,” the Ellimist agreed.

They encouraged each other!  Two beings opposite in all things, and they find common ground in mocking me, making my life a misery!  While they eat my cooking!  I scowled and looked down at my plate.  It just wasn’t right.

Matilda patted my arm in a consoling manner, but I could tell she didn’t really mean it.  “It’s okay, dear.”

“Don’t encourage him.  Or her,” I added to the other annoyance at the table.  Champ at least understood and set his head on my knee, and I scratched his ears.  Dogs probably were the best pet.  Or maybe he was hoping for scraps. 

“Do you like the food?” Matilda asked.

“It is delicious.  You should think of opening a restaurant, Prince Elfangor.”

Yes, perhaps in my _loads_ of spare time.  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Isn’t he so cute when he tries to act all poised when he really just wants to throttle something?” Matilda teased.

“I’ll have to bow to your opinion, Loren.”

I frowned between the two of them.  Why did I have to deal with this?  Was it some kind of terrible penance?

… Yes, perhaps it was.

“So you’ve come here to eat and to pretend to console us about the children.”

“I don’t pretend,” the Ellimist smiled.  “They are quite well, and you two have been worried.  I certainly do not look at food as a comfort –”

Matilda covered her mouth, but I could hear her unable to suppress her giggles. 

“—but if it is present, why should I not partake?” he continued.

“Manners?”

“I was invited inside.”

The female shook her head.  “Behave, the both of you.”

The gall of humans thinking they could tell an Ellimist to do anything they did not wish.  (And I was behaving perfectly fine!) 

“So what happened with the kids?”

“I would not want to steal their thunder.”

“No.  You just give them a reason to have it.”  I may have given them the morphing ability, but I did not give them this dangerous mission.  It was none of my doing.  “You know the dangers of the Howlers and yet risk them for a _game_.”

The Ellimist smiled.  “This all is game, Prince Elfangor.”

“Maybe.  But you aren’t the pawn.”

“Oh, you are a knight at least.  Perhaps even a bishop.”

“The horse piece, I think, is probably it,” Matilda commented.  “Andalite, ass, horse, they’re all roughtly the same.”  She batted her eyes at me.

“Human, idiot, pawn, same thing.”

She ignored me.  “What is this game-thing?  Something to fight the boredom?”

The Ellimist didn’t answer her question.  Instead, he smiled his annoying smile and wiped his face with a cloth.  “I should depart.”

“The kids will be okay, won’t they?” she asked, all seriousness returning with her worry.

“They will be as they would be.”

I scowled at the non-answer. 

“You should be proud of them, Prince Elfangor.”

“I _am_.”

“No, with what they have done, or will be doing. Their actions will save countless species, not just the Iskoort.  Crayak has lost his most valuable troops.  All because them, your … Animorphs.”  He smiled at the title the children called themselves.

“Yes.  Until Crayak creates a new army.”

“But it will take time.  Time is what is needed.  Perhaps with it, you save everyone.  Until the next game.”  And then he disappeared.

“Smary bastard.”

“You shouldn’t call yourself names.”  Even though she said it, I think Matilda agreed with me, and we set to wait for the children and Aximili.

 ****

I may not be the most observant when it comes to human courtship rituals, but I did realize the rather unsubtle changes between Jake and Cassie.  It was, I determined, their own fault if they could not be more discreet.

They might have jumped a mile when I set my hands on their shoulders, and they separated quickly.  “I think we should speak.”

“E-E-Elfangor,” Jake stammered, his face turning red.

“Speak?” Cassie squeaked, her own expression matching Jake’s.

My smile would be difficult to explain and I guided them into an area of a bit more light.  I continued smiling at them, and they were very good at avoiding my gaze.  “Yes, let’s speak.  Sit.”

It was amusing that they both say at a proper distance apart, a noticeable difference from their previous stance. 

Even though I said we were to speak, I let the silenc fester, let their nerves become a bit frayed.  When they were starting to get fidgety, I finally spoke.  “I believe the responsible thing for me to do would be to speak to your parents about this change in your relationship.”

Horror crossed both of their faces.

“You can’t!” Cassie protested in a high voice, while Jake looked ready to pass out.  “Elfangor –!”

I locked my hands behind my back and looked innocent.  “I would not wish to keep such information from them.”

“But—but, we fight Yeerks and, and you can’t!” Jake tried to explain.

“Please!”

“Is that not how humans go about this on Earth?”

“NO!”

It was amazing that both could lie with such quickness.  Even Cassie, normally a very honest being, grasped at this deception.

“I see.”  Even with my tone, the expression on my face probably spoke that I didn’t believe them.

“You _really_ can’t tell them,” Jake added.

“In that case, I think it would be a good idea if you refrain from such … activities where I might catch you.  I will feel indebted to tell them, otherwise.”

“Right!”

“Yes, you’re right!”

“We’ll never do it again!  I mean, here.”

“Just don’t tell my mom and dad!”

“Very well,” I agreed.  “And I hope you will make sure your new relationship does not … provide distractions during our tasks.”

They both promised, in so many words and a lot of stuttering.

“Good.  Forming a relationship in circumstances such as this in these times, while perhaps rewarding, gives its own problems.  I would hate for you to fall to them.”

“Problems?”

I smiled, one with less teasing.  “I think you should depart for home.”  They sat staring at me.  “Go!” I encouraged, then laughed when they fled.

Once I was sure they were gone, I gave a small chuckle and went to get my watering can from where I had caught the two.  The plants around the house needed watering and their weekly fertilizer treatment, and I focused a bit of time pruning away the parts that were wilting or ill.  There was a ficus upstairs that hadn’t liked its change in location, and was retaliating by losing its leaves.  I had _told_ Matilda not to move it, but I had been overridden. 

The door opened and I suck my head over the stairs when Matilda called my name. 

“Were Jake and Cassie here?” Tobias asked.  “I thought I saw them.”

“Yes,” I admitted, coming downstairs with the bucket of trimmings, and I took a grocery bag from him.  I wasn’t sure if it was because he was young or because he was human, but in my opinion, he had over-estimated his ability to carry the wares.

“Why didn’t you give them a ride home?” Matilda scolded.  “It’s hot out today.”

I shrugged.  “They did not ask.  They were, actually, in a hurry to leave.”

“You still should have offered,” she said as she set the groceries on the table. 

“I believe they would have turned me down,” I smiled.  “You know children at that age.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Umm, hello, child at that age,” Tobias said reproachfully. 

“Yes,” I agreed.  “And I expect you to be as foolish as them.”

“What did they do?” Matilda asked, standing in front of the freezer with an exasperated expression.  She had obviously understood that, by my statement, they had done something foolish.

I pulled things from the bags and set them on the counter.  “Just what human teenagers tend to do.”

“And what’s that?” Tobias asked, arms crossed.

“They did nothing _wrong_.”

“Then you can tell us what they did,” he said back.

I picked up the boxes that went into the pantry.  “Whatever they did, I am certain they won’t be doing it in this house again.”

Matilda, older and more worldly and able to hear between the lines, smothered a laugh.  “They didn’t.”

“They did,” I said and she laughed louder.

Tobias took a moment to catch on, but he did, and he was horrified.  “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You’re so mean,” his mother chuckled. 

“Yes, I am.”

“I can’t believe you did that to them,” Tobias said, eyes wide.

“You don’t even know what I did to them.”

Tobias shuddered.  “Elfangor, I don’t _want_ to know.”

“Then you should learn from Jake and Cassie’s mistake and don’t let him catch you with Rachel,” Matilda grinned.  “I won’t save you.”

His jaw dropped and his face imitated a thermometer on the rise.  “ _Mom!_ ”

I shook my head.  _Children_.

****

“Not to insult you or anything, but sometimes seeing you two like this really weirds me out,” Matilda commented from my doorway, a basket of laundry against her hip.

Lying on the ground, my stalk eye remained on her while I continued reading.  ‹Does it?›

“I just said it did.”  She walked in, taking my acknowledgement as permission to enter.  However, instead of depositing my human clothing in the appropriate areas, she set the basket on my bed before resting next to it.  Champ lifted his head from my back before dropping it back down.  I rubbed the back of my blade against his back in a modified petting motion.  “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

‹I had not intended to, no,› I remarked as I turned the page.

“Well, it’s really weird.  In a good way, but still weird.” 

I smiled.

“What are you reading?”

‹Don Quixote.›

“The guy who fights windmills?” I saw her smiling.

‹Or attempts to.  I read that several chapters ago.›

She leaned over to read over my shoulder, but her face twisted.  “What … is that Spanish?”

‹Of course.›

“You can _read_ Spanish?›

More amused than insulted, I turned my main eyes to her.  ‹I can read several Earth languages.  And I can speak any language I will be exposed to because of my translator chip.›

Matilda seemed still surprised, perhaps flustered.  “I just never thought … well, how is the book?”

‹It is human.›

“Elfangor.”

I closed the thick book.  ‹He is a delusional creature with good intentions surrounded by the sane with bad ones.  Or it is the other way around.  He attacks the innocent because of his madness, charges at windmills because they are monsters, seeks to be a knight, all in the name of a lady-love we never meet and does not even exist, except in his mind.  It is a decidedly human book, with human characters.›

She sighed, as if put upon.  “Do you like it, I mean?”

‹It is not intolerable.  At points, it is even amusing in its accurate portrayal of humans.›  I smiled to show I was teasing.

“You sure it’s about humans?  Knights and chivalry and honor and all that?  Sounds like Andalites to me.”

‹Except that Andalites are sane.›

She patted my head between my stalks.  “Sure you are.  Just keep telling yourself that.”

I set the book on the side table.  ‹I do fear for the character, though.  I believe he will die.›

Matilda blinked at me.  “He can’t.  He’s the title of the book,” she protested.  “He’s the hero!  He can’t die.”

‹Not much of a hero,› I pointed out.  ‹And several title characters have died in novels.  Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, MacBeth, Dracula.›

“Most of those were Shakespeare’s characters.  He kills everyone in his tragedies.  And Dracula was the bad guy!  Of course he dies!” she protested.

‹Beowulf.›

“Never heard of him.”

I shook my head.  ‹If I, an alien, knows what that work is, you should be ashamed.  And how about Robin Hood?›

“Robin Hood never died!”  At my laugh, Matilda glared.  “Well, just because someone dies in a book doesn’t mean they stay dead.  Sherlock Holmes was killed off and he came back.  Gandalf.  A bunch of others.”

‹Their deaths were faked or never happened.  The other characters merely thought they were dead.  And it is a poor story if someone does come back from the dead.  Unless, of course, they are Undead to begin with.›

Matilda sighed and stood up.  “I’m not talking with you about this.  Because it’s stupid.”

‹No.  Because you lack knowledge in a range of your species’ literary works.›

“Which you think is a terrible failing,” she said as she took out my folded clothes.  The socks and undergarments were placed into the dresser.

Surprised at such a statement, I said, ‹No.  Why should I?›  I brushed Champ off, stood, and went to the closet to get some hangers.  Perhaps upset at the loss of a pillow, the dog jumped onto the bed and fell down again.

Matilda turned to me as I put the shirts on the hangers.  “You’re not just saying that?”

‹No, of course not.›

“I thought Andalites were all, _humans_ _don’t learn enough, their schooling is terrible, blah blah blah_.”

‹Your education system is flawed,› I admitted, smoothing the cloth before hanging it up in its proper color location.  ‹But I cannot hold that against _you_.  And I do not know all of Andalite literature.  I am more familiar with the modern works, and even then, I have only an average awareness.›

“Suuuuure you do.”

‹It is not my fault Andalite averages are higher than human.› 

She ran a hand through her hair, exasperated, and scratched her dog’s ear.  “When did you learn to read other languages?”

Hanging up the rest of my shirts and pants, I waved my tail.  ‹Most of it was years ago.  It was just something I picked up.  I found a few non-English resources I needed to use and learned the language.›

“So you can read anything?”

‹Anything that has adequate instructions for teaching,› I corrected.  ‹I cannot teach myself to read a language no one knows how to read.›

“But you can speak anything?”

‹Provided my translator chip can muddle through it.  Some it never gets right.›

“That must be cool, to be able to speak anything,” she said wistfully.  “Be able to travel anywhere.”

I smiled.  ‹It is nice.  But you do have to be careful.  If you do not pay attention and are surrounded by those of different tongues, you may slip between the languages without even thinking.  And then you get a lot of curious looks, especially if you keep switching accents.›

She laughed.  “Switch accents?”

‹I wouldn’t do it in English.  I am too accustomed to the language, though that is not to say I wouldn’t slowly transpose it to the local dialect without meaning to.  The translator chip is constantly analyzing patterns and would correct me.  But among different languages, where I am less exposed, the chip is likely to take the dialect differences as two similar but separate languages.›

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.  I was trying to imagine you with a British accent.”  She grinned cheekily.  “Why why are you also so anal-retentive about your clothes, by the way?”

‹Pardon?›

She waved at my closet.  “It’s a perfect transition between colors and everything is really, _really_ neat and organized.”

‹How can you find things easily if it is not organized?›

“For someone who doesn’t even like clothes,” Matilda said as she leaned back, “you’re very meticulous about them.  That’s all.  If you get the smallest rip, you throw away a perfectly good shirt.”

‹Which is usually saved by you or one of the children, so it doesn’t matter.›

“It’s still funny,” she said.  “You _hate_ shopping for clothes, but you spend more time than Rachel finding things you like.  It’s a bit strange.”

‹It’s _practical_ ,› I countered.  ‹I have to _wear_ them.  I prefer them to be comfortable and presentable.›

“And expensive.  Not that I don’t appreciate the 1000-count Egyptian cotton sheets.”

I waved my tail again, dismissive of her comments.  ‹Did you finish all of the laundry?›

She sighed.  “That’s all you have me here for.  Cleaning.  Yes, it’s all done.  And for someone who only needs to wear clothes for a few hours, you go through a lot!  And don’t even try to tell me it’s because you don’t want me to be bored!”

Sometimes, she might know me too well.  While I tried to think of an appropriate response, the phone rang, saving me from the trouble.  Matilda stretched out to reach the phone and pick it up.  “Hello?  Rachel?  Yes. Oh.  _Oh_.  _Oh_.  Yeah, we’ll be right there.”

‹Right where?› I asked even as I was morphing.  The tone was a clue that this was not a very good call.

“The mall.  There’s trouble.”

‹There always is.›

“Yeah, but it’s not always caused by the Chee.”

Whether I was surprised at the statement or the morphing caused my legs to change faster than the muscles could support them, I fell forward.  Matilda caught me before I fell, and Champ gave a concerned little bark.  “Dah Chee?” I asked as my mouth formed.

She nodded grimly.  “The Chee.”

 ****

The Chee were frozen.  Computers froze all the time, but those were human inventions and it was to be expected, however annoying it was.  I was beyond shocked that the androids were now unable to move.  At least they could communicate with us and the other Chee using their internal communication systems, their “Chee-net.”

Matilda was feeding the King’s dogs while I shut the blinds and listened to the Chee tell us what they could.  

“It must be the ship,” Erek said.  “The Pemalite ship.”

“What Pemalite ship?” Marco asked.

“The one we arrived on.  It is hidden in a deep ocean cavern, where it should have been safe from intruders.  The pressure would kill a human being.”

“Umm … how deep is it?” Tobias asked.

“Fifteen thousand feet.”

“Three miles!” Marco exclaimed.

“Whoa … Marco knew something,” Rachel gasped.

“Actually, it is only two point eight-four of your miles,” Aximili corrected.

“Our ship,” Erek continued, impatient and desperate for help, “is the connection hub for our communications.  It is the only way to disable our systems.”

“That you know of,” I pointed out.

“No.  The only way.”

I chose not to disagree again, though I still had my doubts about the claim.  It was too broad to be right.

“So someone found the ship and just deactivated you?” Cassie asked.

“We’re screwed if the Yeerks found it,” Rachel said grimly.

“Or even some normal human,” Marco said.

“Do not be so grim.”  That was _my_ job.  “A natural creature could have gotten inside and is causing mischief.  Squirrels in the attic, that kind of thing,” I commented.

Jake asked, “Either way, can it be reversed?”

“Yes.  It would be very easy.  It is getting there that is difficult,” Mr. King said.

Cassie asked, “Are all the Chee affected?  Maybe one of them …”

“No.  All of the Chee are frozen.”

“And being a paralyzed Chee isn’t very safe,” Rachel said.

“Now they’re like us,” Marco grinned.  “Except, you know, we don’t have people that actually know we’re androids and control our probably very-cool spaceship.”

Erek spoke.  “While most of the Chee are in safe locations, some are not.”

I narrowed my eyes.  This spelled trouble.

“One is a janitor in a nuclear research facility.  He locked himself in the safe where they store radioactive materials to keep himself hidden.”

“That sounds safe,” Jake said.

“Only until shift change.  They will find him then.  At ten o’clock the humans will see this alien, advanced technology,” Mr. King warned.

“And then the Yeerks will get it,” Rachel continued.

Marco finished the thought.  “And it’s game over.”

“So we break in and get him,” Tobias said.

Erek disagreed.  “It’s maximum security.  You won’t be able to.  And there is a more immediate concern. A Chee, who goes by the name Lourdes, is living as a homeless street person, and she was staying in an abandoned building.  Except it’s not abandoned, at least not completely.  It is used by the Yeerks.  A Controller named Stark uses it to store stolen goods.”

“Where is she?” I asked over the children’s comments.

“She’s in a closet under the front stairs.  But there is a raid planned that will occur in twenty minutes, and we are certain there is at least one human-Controller assigned to the SWAT team.

My eyes widened at the time.  The children were already mobilizing, getting the information.  I met Matilda’s gaze and she tried to smile.

“All right!” I exclaimed over the noise.  “Calm down.  This isn’t the worst we have dealt with, so stop acting like headless chickens!”

“Prince Elfangor, it is worse,” Erek said humbly.  “The ship’s signal could be picked up by the Yeerk spacecraft orbiting.  They might already have.”

I stared at him.  _Now_ things have gotten worse!  Getting to the ship was important, not rescuing the Chee during the raid.  She could be rescued later.

“All of you, fly to the building and get Lourdes.”

“You’re not coming with?” Aximili questioned, surprised.

“I’m going to question the Chee about their ship and figure out _how_ we’re going to beat the Yeerks there,” I snapped.  “All of you, get the directions from Erek and _get going_.”

They blinked at me but started to morph.  Except Matilda.  She looked at me firmly.  “I’m going down to take care of the dogs downstairs.”

I wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, that this would be over soon and the Chee could resume their responsibilities, but I didn’t.  And it wasn’t because I was afraid of her glare.  Instead, I went to the door and opened it so the children and Aximili could leave.

“Thank you for your concern with our dogs, Loren,” Mr. King said, voice deep with emotion.

“Elfangor will help when he’s done drilling you, won’t you?” Again, there was a tone.

I smiled, though it was forced.  “Of course, when I am done.  Enjoy your trip to Canine Bedlam.”

She nodded and went down to the basement without asking for more information.  I assumed she remembered how to get down, having learned it from her time with the Chee.  Once she was gone, I turned to the Chee and drilled them.  What ocean?  How far out?  Security measures?  (Their answer stole my words for several seconds, and my theory that is was some innocent creature having gotten trapped inside seemed even more likely.)  I sighed at their words.

“You couldn’t have placed this somewhere _slightly_ easier to reach?  Or find?”  Almost three miles down in the ocean promised no easy feat.  It would be pitch black down there, not to mention the pressures.  This was not a race I wanted to go up against the Yeerks.  _They_ at least had ships!

“We could get to it,” Erek said apologetically.

“Good for you!” I snapped, not out of any anger to them, but to the situation.  _Ocean, ocean, ocean, ocean.  How can we get and survive there?_

One of the dogs came up to me with a squeaky ball, and I stole it from the pet when it got too annoying.  The small terrier barked in excitement and I threw the ball up the stairs.  It was not much of a respite, because the dog thought it was a game.

“Whomever invented the squeaky toy should be shot,” I muttered to myself when I picked up the little furry devil.  All dogs must love to play keep away, because he would _not_ give the toy to me, and I very nearly had to shove my hand down his throat to get the thing.

“That would be Chee-youri,” Mr. King said helpfully, and I blushed, having forgotten about their enhanced hearing.

“Thank you.  Now I know who to curse,” I tried to smile.  The small dog whined and licked my face, kicking his legs, and I set him down.  “No.  Sit.  Sit.  _Sit_.”

“Unlike Champ, Trigger does not respond to commands, Prince Elfangor,” Erek laughed as the dog bounced around me, trying to get to his toy in my pocket.  “Unless he wants to, of course.”

“I see.  No!  Down!  Sit!”  I shook my head when the dog obeyed, giving me the look that said, _Why are you yelling at me? I’m innocent, see?_   Seeing I was not so easy to convince, Trigger whined and started to raise him paw.  “No.”

Trigger barked and jumped back up.

“You spoil him, I believe,” I commented to the Chee.

“Yes.  We do.”

“I don’t suppose you have any spare spaceships lying around?”

“Sorry, no.”

I sighed.  “Do you know any creatures that survive at that depth, ones that could enter your ship?”

“There are fish at that depth,” Erek said.

“Fish,” I repeated.  “Anything that other creatures would not be eager to eat?”

“I cannot think of anything.  I am sorry, Prince Elfangor.”

“So am I.  I will go off to help care for your other pets, try to think of something.  Would you like the television on something else?”

I turned the station to their preference, asked for the codes to get to their subterranean park, and went.  Trigger followed.  I almost stopped him, but he was too eager.  Once in the park, the noise of the park hurt my ears and I looked for Matilda.  There were frozen Chee about, standing like modern art statues.  I hoped they did not mind if their charges were urinating on them.

It wasn’t very difficult to find the female.  The dogs surrounded her, as the only being that could move and be interactive with them.  Busy trying to pour food in what was probably a trough with all of the dogs yipping excitably at her legs, she did not notice me. I walked slowly to her, nodding at the few frozen Chee I passed and petting a few dogs friendly enough to come up to me, but I didn’t make myself known.  It was several minutes before she finally saw me standing there.

“Think of a brilliant plan yet?”

“You do know that these beggars were probably fed a few hours ago.  They’re not going to starve anytime soon.”

Matilda shook her head at me.  “You don’t know anything about dogs, do you?”

I shrugged.

“They might look cute and act all friendly, but they’re still … they’re still dogs,” she said quieting her voice.  “They still pack animals.  Without the Chee making sure they all behave themselves, especially with _all of these guys_ ,” her arm spread to encompass the park and its many inhabitants, “they’ll start picking on each other, trying to get to be the big dog.”

She shook her head sadly.  “They may have the essence of the Pemalites, but they aren’t.  The Chee don’t need to see that, see what’s left of their creators do such things.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that.  There _was_ nothing to say.  “I’m sure the Chee will appreciate your efforts,” I said awkwardly.

After a little laugh, Matilda smiled.  “I guess I feel like I have to do something for them.  They did help nurse me back to health and give me a place to stay.”

“Yes, they did.”

“Though, I will admit, I’m not looking forward to pooper-scooping this place,” she added, scratching a large furry dog.

Horrified, I quickly looked at the bottom of my shoes, and she laughed.  Thankfully they were clean.  “I suppose I never realized how much work it would be to care for this place.”

“Sometimes, I don’t think the Chee did either.  So how are we going to save them?”

“The children are taking care of Lourdes, I’m sure.”

“I did wonder why you let them go without you.”

“I do have some faith in their abilities without my constant supervision,” I said, a bit peevish.  “And as cruel as it is, Lourdes is not our main concern.  Getting to the ship is.”

“And have you figured out how to do it?”

“I’m working on it.  It is difficult to think of a way to get three miles under the ocean.  Safely,” I added needlessly.

Matilda kept petting the dogs.  “I guess we don’t have time to steal a sub or something, huh?”

“No.  Not if we have to get there by ten tonight.  We’re being trapped by two sides – keeping the Yeerks from getting the ship and keeping them from getting any frozen Chee.  We don’t have time to _do_ anything.”

“We have time,” she countered.  “Just not a lot.  You’ll think of something.”

I wished I could be so confident.  “I do not know what,” I admitted.  “The opening is not very large.  It’s almost three miles down, and it will be pitch black.  Can we even get there in under the two hours?  We can’t demorph if we get in trouble.  We have to worry about whether or not we can make it back once we pass the one-hour mark.  And that’s only _if_ we can find a creature to acquire.”

“And we’re screwed there, I guess.  I don’t think we have anything like Nemo’s squid at the Gardens.  And I don’t really want to touch one, either.”

“Humans and their squeamishness,” I teased.

“Damn right.  So, if we can’t morph and we can’t steal a sub, what do we do?”

“It’s times like this I wish I hadn’t blown up my ship.  Not that it could have gone to that depth, but it’s the point.”

Matilda smiled.  “When the Chee put something where no one can reach it, they don’t dick around, do they?”

“No, they don’t.  It’s almost their own fault that this is happening.  If they’d put it somewhere easy to reach, this wouldn’t be nearly as terrible.”

“But then someone probably would have already found it.  And they’d still be screwed.”

I sighed.  “I will say this, the Chee do give us the most creative problems.”

She was surprised.  “Do they?”

“Oh, I forgot.  You were not with us, then.  They made us break into a very secure Yeerk facility to retrieve a crystal.”

“Was it pretty?”

I gave her a look.  “It was able to rewrite their programming.  And it was set to take over all of the computers on Earth.  But that mission was not as hard as this promises to be.”

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t been clever,” Matilda dismissed.  “I can’t see how a crystal could do all that, though.  It’s just a stone.”

The dogs around me asked for my attention, and I bent to pet them.  They licked my face, and I was unable to stop them from giving me an impromptu bath.  “You are thinking too literally.  Just because they call it a crystal doesn’t mean it is a true one.  I have not analyzed it, but the structure is probably no ordinarily form.  Crystalline pathways and the like probably make it function.  Andalite scientists would give a stalk to examine it, I’d wager.”

“And I bet the Chee wouldn’t share,” she laughed. 

“No, they wouldn’t.  It is understandable.  I would not trust any creature with something that could make me do what I do not wish.”

“Yeah.  They like you,” she commented about the dogs.

“They merely like the attention.”

Matilda shrugged.  “It’s a pity we can’t just fix the Chee like I do when the computer acts up.”

“You make Aximili or me fix it,” I said.  “Or you try to fix it yourself and make our job even harder.”

“Don’t be silly.  And what I mean is, when the computer freezes or acts funny, I just turn it off and on again with the power button.”

“I doubt the Chee have a power button or would tell us.  And it would not work anyway, because it is the signal from the ship that is blocking them, not their internal systems.” 

“Maybe we could wrap them in tin foil to block the signal.”

“Now you are merely being ridiculous.  Tin foil would not block the signal.  It would take …” I trailed off.  If we couldn’t block the signal at the source, _maybe_ we _could_ block it at the receiver, at the Chee.  And the Chee _could_ reach their ship.

“You thought of something.”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t tell me we are going to make the Chee into TV dinners.”

“No.”  I got to my feet and ran back upstairs.  The dogs followed me, barking, and Matilda tried to keep up. 

“Elfangor, what is it?” she gasped, out of breath, as we waited in the elevator.  “What did you think of?  It’s not fair to keep secrets from me.”

“The Chee won’t like it, but it is the best I can think of.  Something that won’t rely on luck.”

“Tell m—stop running!” she called as I rushed up the steps.

The Chee were, of course, exactly where I left them.  “You’ve got an idea,” Erek said.   “The others told us you were on the way up.”

“You won’t like it,” I warned.  “I need the crystal.”

Even with the android faces, surprise registered.  As Matilda staggered into the room and collapsed into a chair, my stomach fell with a flaw.

“ _Please_ tell me you have _that_ somewhere I can get it.”

“We have it here, or in the city.  It is in a Chee’s personal safe in his home.  Personal hidden safe, not one by humans,” Mr. King added when my face showed horror at their trusting human protection methods.  “But why do you need it?”

“We cannot get to the ship, not in this time frame.”  I paused.  “We can’t.  A Chee could.”

“But they can’t move!” Matilda protested, as if I had forgotten that fact.

“Because of the signal.  There must be a way to block it.  You said your communication systems were hubbed at the ship.  If we could block it in one of you, or even all of you, one of you could take care of the problem.  You would keep your security and get it done faster than we could.”

They were quiet.

“I know it is not a good plan,” I admitted quietly, “but it is the best I can think of.  I understand if you do not want us to mess with your systems – I certainly wouldn’t trust any human doctor working on me – but what else can we do?”

“Elfangor, they’re not a toaster you can fix!” Matilda exclaimed, jumping up.  “I don’t care how smart you Andalites think you are, you can’t touch Chee tech.  You’ll make them blow up or something.”

I glared at her and her lack of faith, no matter how true it might be.  “There is no way for us to get to the ship.  We have no morphs appropriate, and it is unlikely there are any in captivity or that we could even find one in the oceans.  We will still look for ways, of course, but without extreme luck, what can we accomplish with so little time?”

“Elfangor, no,” she said, grabbing my arm.  “You can’t do this.”

I kept my eyes on the Chee.  If they were willing to take the risk, it didn’t matter what she said.  “Is it even possible?”

It was an answer long in coming.  “Yes,” Erek said finally.  “And you are right.  It is the best that can be thought of.  The Chee agree with that.  And … and we’ve agreed to do it.  I’ll do it.”

“No!  Elfangor’s an idiot!  He can’t even work a vaccum.”

I pried her grip off me.  “I think, now, you might try to _not_ scare them.  Where is the crystal?  We have to start this now.”

Mr. King told me the address and the code for the safe, as that Chee was away.  I promised to return quickly and went to the door.  Matilda met me and stopped my escape.  “If you hurt him, I’ll never speak to you again.”

I tried to smile.  “Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?”

“Just go.”

 ****

It was a nerve-wracking surgery.  Even if Erek was an android, there was no other word for it.  It was a surgery.  I made the children stay in a different room.  Aximili was with me, Mr. King helped guide the steps, and Matilda was jittery in the chair.

I didn’t like it.  If there was one false step, I could destroy this Chee.  And _all_ of the Chee would know the _exact_ instant I did so.  I knew they were all connected, all waiting, all … there.  I didn’t like this pressure.  It wasn’t like in a battle or in a flight.  It was too different and uncomfortable. 

And the Chee was so advanced!  I’ll admit it, I barely understood what I was looking at.  I was merely an extension of the Chee, my hands doing what they commanded.  Even if my talents were not being called for duty, it was still troubling.  Sweat was coming up from my skin, matting my fur, and it was a struggle to keep my hands from shaking.

It took an hour, a long drawn out hour.  But when Erek reported that he had lost the Chee-net connection and his hand twitched, it was a positive sign and I smiled with relief as I worked.  Once everything was finished, his inner workings sealed again, Erek stood and prepared to leave.  I stopped him.

‹Take this.›  I handed him a small box.  It was similar to a GPS.  ‹Just in case your mobility does not last long enough.  So we can find you.›

Erek nodded and opened his head to set it inside next to the Yeerk.  “Thank you for your forethought.  Wish me luck.”

And then he was gone, a waving door the only hint at his motion.

The children rushed in.  “Was that Erek or the Flash?” Marco joked.

‹It was Erek.  He is on his way,› Aximili said.

“How long until we know?” Cassie asked.

“It will talk Erek approximately ten minutes to reach the ship.  He will also move it so the Yeerks will not find it,” Mr. King reported.

It was a long ten minutes, even though time hadn’t changed.  I rolled the crystal between my hands nervously.  I hoped he made it.  I hoped that it would be well.  And I hoped, if he didn’t, we could find him, that the tracking chip would allow us to find him.  To be trapped, alone, for all eternity … because of me.  Because of my plan.  This wasn’t like sending someone to be killed because of my orders, but sending someone to be tortured because of my mistake.

Matilda stepped next to me and set her hand on my forearm.  When I looked at her, she tried to give me a reassuring smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.  Neither was mine.

My worry, thankfully, was for naught.  Mr. King demonstated movement, proclaimed all was well.  I let my tail fall with the relief and truly smiled as Matilda hugged me in her excitement. 

‹I trust you will be able to return Erek to his normal functioning,› I said, giving the crystal back to one of its rightful owners. 

“Yes.  It will be no trouble.  And we are missing him.”

“This was all sort of anti-climatic,” Rachel said.  “I was expecting this big down-to-the-last-second rescue.”

I frowned at her.  ‹At least you were allowed the chance to rescue Lourdes.  It may not have been difficult, but it was necessary.›

“Yeah.  It was _completely_ not difficult,” Marco said after everyone was quiet.  “And it would have been a lot less difficult if you had come with.”

‹ _That_ is true,› Aximili said.  The rest of the children shot him a look, and I wondered at it.

“So the Chee in the research facility is okay?” Jake asked quickly.

“Yes,” Mr. King nodded.  “He has slipped out and has resumed his duties.  And Lourdes is moving as well.”

‹Let me know when things are normal,› I said to Mr. King.  ‹We should leave.›

“Of course.”

I returned to my human form and left with Matilda, Aximili, and Tobias.  It took them a while to get to the vehicle, because Matilda obviously wished to speak with the Chee, and I tried not to show my impatience.  At my house, Tobias and Aximili disappeared and Matilda shook her head.

“What is it?” I asked as Champ circled us, smelling the strange dog scents on us.

“They told me I’m not supposed to let you watch the news.”

“Why?” I asked, curious as well as exasperated.  “What did they do?”

Her nose crinkled, but she took her time in answering.  “There’s a report about a gorilla kidnapping a child at the mall.  Among other things.  You can’t expect them not to have made the news when they saved Lourdes, either.”

“No, I suppose not.  I wish they’d tell me though, instead of hiding it.”

“They’re afraid you’ll think they messed up, I think.  But shhh, don’t tell them I told you.  Just don’t watch the news.  I did promise.”

“Even though my curiosity is peaked, I will allow you to keep your vow.  It is probably better I do not know.”

“Why?”

I smiled.  “Because if it turns out they were merely very stupid, I will have to reprimand them.  Though I should do so anyway, for not reporting to their Prince.”

She laughed.  “I think they decided to report to the … well, I’m not second-in-command or anything, but at least I don’t threaten to chop their heads off.”

“Save me when they realize my threats are only threats.  I cannot get any use out of headless warriors.  Of course,” I added, “sometimes it would not make any difference.  They rarely use their heads to begin with.”

“You’re so mean to them.  Come on, make me some cocoa.”

My head cocked to the side. “You mean you cannot add the powder to your water by yourself?”

“It tastes better when you make it.”  She linked my arm.  “And don’t pretend you don’t want any.”

There was no need to give a response to that.

 ****


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to College

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 28

I entered the house quickly, shutting the door a bit harder than I meant to because of the draft.  Apparently it was a lot harder, because I heard a crash and a swear.  Curious, I headed towards the source and gave a snort of failed suppressed laughter at the sight.  There was a cloud of white over by the counter and floor, as well as a powder-covered person.

That was glaring at me.  “Don’t say anything!”

I raised my hands in surrender, though I couldn’t stop grinning.

Matilda sputtered.  “This is your fault!  Since when did you start slamming doors!  And sticking the flour on the top shelf!  Whose brilliant idea was that, huh?”

“Why were you getting the flour anyway?” I asked, daring to step closer.  The powder was settling, which meant I wasn’t going to clog my lungs as much.

“I was going to bake,” she snapped, and I stepped back as her movement raised some white clouds.  “Is that so hard to figure out?”

Honesty wasn’t the wisest choice.  “No.  Of course not,” I said, covering my mouth.  “I’m … I’m sure it’ll be … delicious.”  It was beyond hilarious, being glared at by an angry flour-covered human, and it was taking all my self-control to not break out into laughter. 

“And it will!  I’ll just take flour that landed on the counter!  So there.”

“Yes.”

“So it’ll be perfect,” she said sharply, slapping her hand on the counter.  It was a bad move, as the vibrations caused the three eggs to come to a roll and fall to the floor.

We both stared at the mess, silent.

“Can I just say I’m not cleaning that up?” I said, unable to stop my snickers.

Her head snapped up, eyes glaring.  “You – you pompous ass!  Clean this up!” she snapped, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it right in my face. 

“Did that make you feel better?” I asked evenly, after a long moment of silence.

“A bit, yes.”

“Good, because now I’m not even going to help you clean up.”

“You’re barely even covered, you big baby. Look at me.”

I did.  “Yes, and you know something.  You missed a spot, right here,” I said, dashing forward to toss a bit of flour onto the top of her head.  And because of my years perfecting self-preservation, I ran.  And not a moment too soon.

“You’d better run, you ass!”

She almost caught up with me at the door, as I had to open it, but I managed to get outside before she could get her hands around my neck.  (I felt I could escape easier if I had an open range.  The house was like an obstacle course.) 

“Get back here so I can kill you!” she screamed as I ran around the house.

“NO!” I laughed. I could out-run her in any form.  (I’m pretty sure, anyway.)

We had made a lap and a half around the house before the tide turned in my favor.  The sprinklers turned on.

She said a very impolite word.

I stopped and turned, gripping my knees and gasping, to see her in the middle of the lawn, the flour turning to a paste.  There was a look of complete disbelief and outrage on her face that I kept laughing.

“Yuk it up, just yuk it up,” she seethed, doing a complete turn and heading for the back door.  I thought she had been going into the house, but she stopped short and bent down.  I was too busy laughing to pay much notice, but my laughter stopped when she turned with the hose in her hand.

“No!  No!” I ordered, stepping back.

She stuck her tongue out childishly before squeezing the handle and pointing it straight at me.  Instantly, I was soaked in the spray.  “How do you like it?”

“Give me that!” I demanded, shielding my face, rushing to her, but she ran, turning so she could keep hosing me. 

“Drop dead!”

Despite her advantage in holding the hose, I was quicker and stronger.  I grabbed her wrist and tried to wrestle it away, but she kept switching hands and spraying me – rather painfully, might I add! – in the face.  To add, the paste made her slippery, and I lost my grip several times.

When she slid to the ground from the wet grass, I at least had an advantage. 

“Give me the hose!” I laughed, trying to get that weapon.

“NO!” she giggled, curling around it protectively.

We wrestled for the thing for a few moments until a voice drew our attention.  I looked up to see Tobias staring at us, confused and amused.  “What are you two doing?”

Silence followed his question, and I moved back to kneel on the wet grass so his mother could sit up.   She looked at me, embarrassed, then suggested, “Cooking?”

I snorted.  I couldn’t help it, and soon we were both laughing in the sprinklers’ drizzle, covered in flour paste and soaking wet, as Tobias shook his head and went into the house. “And you yell at Jake and Cassie,” he muttered.

“He started it!” she called.

“I did not!”

****

“Why are you corrupting my brother with that trash?” I scolded once I saw Matilda and Aximili sitting riveted in front of the television.  They jumped at my appearance, and Champ, who had joined me on my excursion, went for a scratch from his owner before curling into his favored spot.

“It’s not trash,” Matilda protested.

“It is,” I repeated, setting down the electronics I had purchased.  I had also purchased my brother a laptop for his scoop, but it was still in the car.  I got him an Apple, because the food connotation amused me.

“But it allows me to observe human behavior, Elfangor,” Aximili commented.  “So I may blend in better.”

I made a noise.  “Blend in?  Soap operas are as far from reality as possible.”

“So … you think someone having an affair with a cabana boy is less realistic than someone who is living with an alien, can turn into animals, and is defending the world against parasitic aliens?” Matilda asked, then gasped, bringing a hand to her chest theatrically.  “You’re _completely_ right!  That would _never_ happen in the real world!”

I glared at her.  “That’s not the point!”

“Well, at least it won’t happen to me,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken.  “Unless you get a pool and hire a cabana boy.  Then we’ll see.”

“That is not amusing,” I said in a tight voice.

Matilda shrugged and smiled, sitting back into her seat.  Aximili looked between us, an unsure expression on his face, before saying, “It is very educational.”

“It is melodramatic hogwash with the same five story-lines repeated _ad nauseum_.”

“And how do you know if you’ve never watched them?” Matilda asked.

I didn’t deign to give a response.  It was not _my_ fault if the only thing on television during the daytime was this trash, and when one has a sprained ankle, there are only so many things to do to stay amused.  What was worse, though, was that no matter how terrible it was, there was some perverse torture in watching the next day to see what would happen next.

“Loren explains many things about them to me.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“Like why Victor and Nikki engage in kissing so often, and what its purpose is.”

I froze and darted my eyes to her quickly, but she wasn’t looking at me, and I looked away in case she would catch me looking at her. 

“And there are the other activities as well,” Aximili continued ruthlessly. 

It took me a moment to recall enough facts about soap operas and what sort of other activities would require explanation.  When I remembered, my calmness faltered and I nearly spoke to forbid Aximili to continue watching those programs, but I stopped myself.  What did _I_ care?  “I see.  Well,” I cleared my throat and picked up my purchases again, “I’m sure she can explain things adequately enough.  Excuse me.”

I took the time to deposit the electronic pieces into areas I would remember and would not be in locations where pesky humans and little brothers would have to move and proceed to forget about.  It was the price to pay when living with other beings, I understood, but I did not _like_ having to hunt for things.  The remote was constantly missing, and the shelves in the closets were always in a state of disorganization, even an hour after I finished setting things right.  Entropy may win out, but it was beyond vexing!

That finished, I went back to my car and retrieved the computer box.  Matilda and Aximili were still watching that dreadful program, and I rolled my eyes before setting the box in front of Aximili.

“What is this?” he asked, surprised.

“It is a laptop.  For your scoop.  You’re clever enough to figure out what you want need to do with it to get what you want.”

“Oh, it’s cute.  Did you get me one?” Matilda asked, leaning down to look at it.

I gave her a bald look.  “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t work a normal computer.  My brother can.  You will have to make a few modifications,” I continued to my brother, “but you would have had to do so for any human computer.”

Aximili had opened the box and removed the electronic, looking it over with an intense concentration.  “It is very primitive.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Thank you, Elfangor,” he smiled, setting it back in the box.  “It will be very useful.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Yes, because he’d hate to waste money on you,” Matilda pouted.

I sighed.  “If you _want_ one, you can go purchase one tomorrow, because whatever I would have picked out, you wouldn’t have liked.”

“I like that one.”

“No, you don’t.  You just think you do.”  She scowled at me, and I quickly continued before her temper would continue to rise.  “The first candy bar you eat is always the best because you haven’t tasted other ones.  You have to at least try other types until you figure out which is your favorite.”

“Only _you_ would make that analogy,” she scoffed.  “And you didn’t let Ax chose.”

“Aximili would have no preference.”

“How do you know?  You didn’t ask!”

“Why should he care about primitive mechanics?”

Aximili tried to step in.  “I do not mind, Loren.  I am pleased to get something my brother will think I need.”

“That’s not _the point!_ ”

“Then what is?”

“Do not even bother, Aximili,” I scoffed.  “She is a human and has no point except to make stupid, petty arguments.”

“Elfangor,” my brother said in the closest tone he dared to scolding me.  Matilda’s cheeks were red.

I was not repentant.  I did not like her allusion that I couldn’t care for my brother, nor that I couldn’t chose what was best for him or respect his desires.  It was a poor human laptop.  Aximili’s preferences were immaterial, because whatever they were, no human technology could meet them.  It was pure fact.

“Don’t worry about it, Ax,” she said.  “He’s just an ass and has no sense of common decency.”

We glared at each other and might have continued the argument if Champ hadn’t chosen at that moment to whine and go to the door.   Recognizing the action and desirous to leave the area, I let him outside and watched him so he didn’t run off.  And if I threw the ball for him to run after, it was not because I wished to avoid going inside.  A dog like him needs lot of activity for proper exercise.

I was still throwing the ball around for Champ when Tobias biked into the drive.  Perhaps still in a temper, I nearly scolded him for skipping school until I remembered it was only a half day today.  “Tobias.”

“Al.  Hey, Champ,” he said, getting the ball from the friendly dog.  “Is Mom around?”

“Yes, she is inside with my brother.  They are watching soap operas.”

He laughed and, after throwing the ball to the dog, went inside.  With the new company, Champ was no longer interested in playing catch, and I sighed when he waited anxiously as the door.  “You too would wish to be inside on such a pleasant day?  And I thought you were a clever dog.  No, give me the ball.  It stays outside, you know that.  Give.”  Once Champ dropped the toy into my hand, we entered the building.  Not eager to face more reprimands from a being that didn’t understand anything, I went upstairs to demorph.  What I would do afterwards, I would think of then.

 I was distracted into spending some time rearranging the mess that was the bathroom and transporting baskets of dirties to the laundry room.  I would have actually started the chore, except my skills in that area were deemed, to put it politely, less than satisfactory.  I wasn’t sure exactly where they were lacking; it wasn’t a difficult task, at all, and I had managed perfectly fine before I had other humans in the house.  However, upon their arrival, my skills were not good enough and Matilda took it up with a long-suffering expression.  I was, however, still permitted to _fold_ the cleaned clothing, and I think the chore was also expected of me from time to time.

While searching for the mate to a sock, the phone rang.  Since there were other beings in the house, it wasn’t necessary for me to kill myself in an attempt to answer it.  Indeed, before the third ring it was picked up, and I congratulated myself in finding the blue sock.

“AL- _ien!_ Phone!” Matilda’s voice yelled up, and by the tone and not very subtle name-calling, I thought she might still be annoyed with me. 

The feeling was possibly mutual, and I left the laundry room to yell back down, “I’m glad you recognize what the sound means, human!”

“It’s Erek, Ass!”

I scowled.  It would be immature and irresponsible to tell her to take a message from him because I was in a fit of pique.  So I went to my bedroom phone and answered it.  “Speaking.”

“Hello, Mr. Fangor,” Erek said with the unfailing politeness the Chee possess. 

“Erek.  To what do we owe the pleasure?”  My ears did not discern Matilda setting the phone down, and I assumed she planned on eavesdropping.  Humans were predictable in that way, rude things that they tended to be.

“I’m calling on the secure channel to tell you we’ve learned that the Yeerks have purchased a meatpacking plant and an animal testing laboratory.”

“And you think they are connected?” I asked, confused.  Two aspects so separate, it was hard to think they could be used together for a common goal.

“They were purchased at the same time, about a year ago.  It is only theory, but we are reasonably confident.  But we do not know how the Yeerks plan to use them.”

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I sighed.  “We will look into it.  The animal testing has me concerned.  If they are testing some poison … though it does seem to be a bit regulation for them.  And hardly efficient, if all they want to do is kill numerous humans.”

“We wish we had more to tell you, but the Yeerks have been growing more … involved in this.  Even Visser Three.  We thought it was best to tell you now.”

“Yes, you are probably right.”  I asked for the information the Chee could supply.  Once the android hung up, I said, “I know you’re listening.  Contact the other children.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Matilda said sarcastically and possibly slammed the phone down.  The noise made my ear hurt.

“Humans.  Nothing but over-grown children,” I muttered.

 ****

I was flying, thinking about everything, trying to get it to make sense.  Honestly, it was a futile task.  Who could possibly understand Yeerks?  I could not determine why they would need a meatpacking factory – poison was too easily found out even with primitive human methods, and what else could there be in using such a method?  And even if there was more, I refused to enter such a building to determine the reason.  It was too dangerous and too vile.  While I ate meat as a human, I did not care to witness the process of how the food came about, and, if Yeerks ran the place, I did not want those weapons of death – whatever they were – turned on me. 

So it was better to check out the laboratory.  And, by what the children had learned, the laboratory got its test subjects from the University.  They had thought up this ridiculously complicated plan to break into the van during transport, something involving heavy timing of vehicle transport time in a tunnel and possible gynmastics.  I preferred the preemptive strike, which was why I was going on this flight.  I knew someone on the inside, and he wouldn’t not help.

I just had to find him, which was the hard part.

Gafinilan had gone with Mertil into the woods.  They were in the areas by the Hork-Bajir valley, but I never learned their exact location as they wished for their seclusion.  But Gafinilan worked at the University.  While I doubted he had ever worked in any animal laboratory, he could probably be able to get into the areas.  His university pass would let him, and us.

I was nearing the very end of the time limit when I _finally_ saw a familiar body of blue.  I will admit I was cautious to make sure it was not Mertil.  Such blatant unwelcomed appearance would have been disrespectful to him.  But once I was sure that between the branches I was seeing Gafinilan – which was very easy to do, because all I had to do was see if there was a tail present – I called down.  Gafinilan pulled up short and squinted up.

‹Why are you here?› he asked me, not very rudely, but it was not exactly very politely either.  Maybe he thought to never see me again. 

‹I … that is, we may require your assistance.›  I fell to the ground and started to demorph.   It was better to give respect in my true form, after all.  Gafinilan’s pose showed his disbelief, but he didn’t verbally state it.  Of course he must wonder what use I could have for a half-blind Andalite.  Growing and up to his legs, I told him about the Yeerk acquisitions that I was concerned about.

The (retired) Prince remained leery and interrupted to ask, ‹And how could _I_ be of use?›

‹They are getting the animal subjects from the University.›  My hooves were whole and I could stand to meet his poor gaze.  ‹To my understanding, you have only taken an extended leave from your position.›

He didn’t ask how I knew.  ‹And why do you not merely break in, you and your humans?  You do not need me.›  There was a peevishness in his tone, as if I had dangled a treat in front of him only to snatch it away at the last second, as if I was simply _looking_ for tasks in which he could assist us. 

I was never so kind-hearted.  Keeping myself from sighing, I explained.  ‹Yes, we could.  But it is _easier_ to have someone guide us in, someone on the inside.  If you do not wish to assist, very well.›

‹I did not say I would not help!› Gafinilan said sharply, tail raising the slightest bit in defense.  ‹I was merely stating I would not be much use.  I did not frequent the animal labs.  My areas were in the primitive particle imagining.›  His tone was mocking of Earth’s technology, the simplicity of it.  I knew he must have been bored out of his mind with such a job, as I had been those years back.  The things we Andalites must suffer through to blend into human culture.

‹But you could assess those labs, could you not?›

‹Of course.  Even if I don’t have access I can manipulate the readers to allow me to pass.› He stood thinking about something, though I could not be sure exactly what.  There was not much to figure with this task, I thought.  Either he could or he could not.  Wherever his thoughts traipsed, Gafinilan asked after a long moment, ‹Do you know what the Yeerks are attempting?›

‹Unfortunately, no.  The plan is to acquire one of the chimps and be transported with the shipment.  Hopefully we will learn the plans then.›

‹Just one of you is to morph the creature?›

I smiled at the reaction, how it was like on countless Dome ships when the Princes would band together and determine an attack or defense, how some would mercilessly pick apart a plan from every angle.  On our Dome ship, we had not gotten the chance.  Our lone battle ended in disaster.  Faced with Gafinilan now, I wondered what sort of analyst he was.

My defense of the plan was simple.  ‹There is no reason for all of us to be such a creature.  Only a few of them need to be transported, perhaps fewer than all of us, and we would have to hide any we replace.  It is easier to get rid of one chimpanzee than seven.  Therefore, the others will be small insects or the like, as I cannot morph small insects.›

Gafinilan tilted his tail with agreement and tapped the ground with his hoof.  ‹And where do I come in?›

‹The children and my brother still do not know about you.  As such, they would be in their insect forms prior to being in contact with you and entering the lab.  Depending on your opinion on the best method of getting in, I may either follow you in as a human or some other small creature.›

‹You could morph one of the small white rodents and I could claim to return you to the lab.  They have such things in human pet stores while in other places they sent down poison for them.  It is very strange.›

I nodded at both his statement about human inconsistency and the idea.  ‹If you are in your office and I appear, it will be enough.  The children will not dig too much if you give a decent performance.›

‹And how will you know which … chimpanzee, you called it, to replace?›

I grinned.  ‹Do not tell me you cannot get into their files from your office and not get caught?›

For a moment, Gafinilan smirked at the idea of such a thing being a challenge, but then he turned serious.  ‹What time will all this take place?›

‹The chimpanzees are to be delivered at about four.   We shall arrive at around three, I believe.›

‹I shall be there a half an hour before then and get your information.›  He looked thoughtful.  ‹What shall you do with the leftover chimpanzee?  And how will you acquire it if there is an attendant?›

I shrugged at the petty details that I probably should pay more attention to, but they were easily solved when one was in the situation and saw what was available for use.  ‹If worse comes to worse, I understand fire alarms require everyone to evacuate the building. One of the humans can demorph and pull one.  It will probably be a dream of theirs, somehow. The chimpanzee can be drugged or released into a dorm.  The school will think it to be a college prank.›

Gafinilan gave a little chuckle.  ‹Until tomorrow, then?›  I thought he looked lively at the idea of assisting me on this little mission, the pathetic thing it was, and I hoped I would never become so desperate.  I do not think I could handle it with nearly as much grace.

‹Tomorrow.  And thank you for your assistance.›  I turned to leave, but a thought caused me to pause, and then I said, ‹And send Prince Mertil my greetings.›

He gave me a myopic look, but said, ‹Of course.›

  ****

‹Ah, the halls of higher learning and beer parties and … ohhh, sorority girls,› Marco sighed from above me.

‹Get a good look, Marco, because you’ll never set a foot this place otherwise,› Rachel said with a laugh.

‹I don’t plan on going here, at this pathetic place.  My dad would never leave me alone.  Of course, this is assuming we kick the Yeerk butts off Earth by the time I have to start filling out applications.›

‹Or you’d even get accepted here,› Jake added with a smirk.

I didn’t have it in my hearts to say Marco would be optimistic with such a hope that the Yeerks would be defeated by then.  No doubt they all realized how slim such a future was.

‹Just imagine writing down all this as extracurricular activities,› Tobias said wistfully.

‹Some people recycle.  _We_ actually save the planet,› Marco agreed.  ‹Weekly, and still pass algebra.›

‹You pass?›

Cassie countered, ‹Recycling does save the planet.›

‹Although,› Aximili interjected, ‹while this recycling is helpful, humans produce far more than they ever recycle or reuse.  And much of it is not able to be recycled by the primitive methods human use.›

I let the conversation fade into background noise, looking down at the school.  It was very much like it had been when I had attended.  There were only a few newer buildings, and the edges had expanded, but otherwise, from the air, everything seemed the same.  And it was crawling with young human adults. 

Park of me wanted to bank to the side and see if I could find my old dorm room, but that sort of nostalgic trip wasn’t worth the memories.  The new inhabitants would have made the room different from when I had been in it, and my memories really weren’t that pleasant to begin with.

Human college had been difficult.  Not the studies, of course  — though they did make their own problems, and I failed more exams than I care to admit until I understood how the human system worked – but accustoming to human life.  My college career _had_ been training me to be a human adult.

My first few months, before I even started the schooling, as a human had been terrible.  Ill in body and mind, lost in this alien culture, I clung to what I knew and who I was.  The problem was, I hadn’t known who I was.  I wasn’t an Andalite anymore, but I certainly wasn’t human.  And all I knew was Loren. 

She helped me.  Since she was to go to college, I, desperate to keep the one certainty in my life, followed.  I spent the summer getting documentation – a social security card, birth certificate – and passing a high school equivalency.  Though Loren appeared at the age to have passed those courses, though everyone had memories of her in the grades, much of it had been as unfamiliar to her as it was to me.  At least with my Andalite memory I could memorize the facts easily enough.  It had been harder for her, a true human.

College had been my first _real_ experience with humans.  I could not have roomed with Loren because of our gender difference, and she had been in a different wing of the building than me.  So I lived with George.  My roommate hadn’t been a pleasant being to live with, a male with poor manners and even worse friends.  Of course, I should not put all the blame on George; I was probably not an easy roommate, and I believe his friends and he called me many things that were not polite.  Several of them had been to my face, but at the time I did not realize the true insult they were giving me.  As some roommates do, we clashed. 

Often. 

The materials in the refrigerator had been in constant battles for ownership. He really was human.  I was only trying to become one.  He was messy; I was neat.   He was a business major; I, in the sciences.  He was loud and rude.  I was quiet and polite.  He thought he was clever, while I actually was, and that is not my ego talking.  I _was_ smarter than that human, able twist out of his words and verbal challenges, and he must have realized and was threatened by it.  So he fought back in ways that showed he was superior.

Both of us had tempers.

Unfortunately for me, only one of us knew the proper way to fight as a human.

We only came to blows that one time, and I honestly do not remember exactly _how_ it escalated to such a point.  Perhaps I even started it, the stress of every thing and one finally snapping my control.  All I know is that I had to deal with the humiliation of the wounds and pain and _everyone_ knowing, especially Loren.  (Though I did lose the fight, I _must_ stress that George Lawrence did _not_ walk away unharmed either!)

In the end, we got along best by avoiding each other.  And avoid each other we did, especially after I took apart all of his electronics in retaliation to his annoying comments. (Too proud to ask me to put them back together, George avoided antagonizing me lest I carry out my not-subtle threat that I _would_ dismantle his alarm clock again and make him miss an exam.  I couldn’t land a punch, but I could hurt him in other ways.) After that first semester, my remaining time at the college gave me an off-campus address and friends that had no connection to any of his.  If we saw each other casually, we either ignored each other or gave the briefest of nods. 

I might honestly have hated my college experience if it hadn’t been for Professor Hooper, who allowed his students to call him Joe or Hoop.  I don’t exactly know what drew his attention to me, as I wasn’t in any of his classes.  He stopped and pulled me aside after I left the laughable – except I couldn’t laugh – physics lecture, and made me go to his office.  I had been equal parts terrified and not.  It was one of those feelings.  I didn’t care what he could say to me, because his idea of the science was lacking, but I did not wish to be in any sort of trouble nonetheless.

_The office was small, and it was made even smaller by the numerous books, dominating desk, and large aquarium.  In the reflective water, there were several multicolored long-finned fish darting between the green plants.  The sight gave me something to focus on, because the window was blocked by numerous small, mostly dying plants._

_“Have a seat, Al,” Professor Hooper smiled.  I had given him permission to address me as such when he first approached me outside the door of the classroom.  I had been too nervous to say otherwise, and then I was worried that I had committed a faux pas with such an allowance._

_Gingerly, I sat.  I did a lot of sitting.  Professor Hooper sat in his chair and rolled it to the side of the desk, so we were close together.  Should he not stay on the other side of the desk?  This did not seem very proper, but humans, I was learning, did not always do the proper things._

_“Tell me how you like your physics class.”_

_I blinked at such a question.  How was I to answer it?  Certainly not honestly, but one should not tell falsehoods to those in positions like this.  After a panicked second, I shrugged.  “… It is a … a challenge.”  Honest, but not completely._

_He smiled like I had said something profound, or something he had wanted to hear.  “Is it?  I hope not too much?”_

_Did human professors do this to their students, draw them into their offices and ask them questions?  Were these going to trick me?  Did they somehow find out the truth?!  No, no, impossible, calm yourself.  “I am managing.”_

_“I see.”_

_My ears, even untrained in picking up human inflections – so much murkier than Andalite psychic communication, it was a wonder humans understood each other half as well as they did — did not like his tone.  I tried to smile, but I felt like panicking.  Did he know I had not passed the last exam?  Were they going to demand my removal?  Or worse, place me in even_ more _less-advanced lessons?_

_Hooper sat expectantly, and when it became clear to him that I wasn’t going to volunteer any more information, he continued.  “I spoke with Professor Hunter about you.”_

_Knots built in my stomach, an unfamiliar and undesirable response, and my palms sweated.  Professor Hunter_ did not _like me.  For numerous reasons.  He thought I goofed off in his class, that I was not serious, that I cheated.  None of those things were true, but he thought them.  “… Oh …?” My voice was tight, and I wanted to clear my throat._

_Maybe the teacher realized such a tangent wasn’t pleasing to me.  “Do you have much background in mathematics or physics, Al?”_

_“Y-yes.”  I wondered if that was the right answer, and then I felt like I needed to explain.  “My mother and father … they taught me when I was very young.  Such things were easy for them.”_

_“Really?  And how are your parents?” he asked, pleasant._

_My throat closed up and I felt the emotional pains.  “I cannot … that is, I lost them at the start of the summer.”_

_“Oh.”  Hooper was concerned, genuinely, and tried to apologize.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  That must be very hard for you.”_

_I could only nod and looked down at my knees, my human knees.  What more could I say?  My own actions had made me lose my family, made me alone._

_Professor Hooper seemed unsure after such a short topic, and he quickly changed it.  “Al, I’d like you to come take a test.”_

_“A test?” I repeated, worried, eyes back up._

_He nodded.  “Just a test.”_

_“Why?”  I blurted out.  So I could fail another one, because I could not do things “properly”?  Because I did not know how to write out things that were obvious to Andalites, but hidden to humans unless there were dozens of equations?_

_“You seem like a very bright young man, Al Fangor.  But, like most smart young people, you’re not very good at showing it to others without causing trouble.”_

_I didn’t understand what he was saying, or if he was insulting me._

_“I want to help you.  This way we can put you in a class that will challenge you intellectually.  Not make you fall asleep.”  He smiled at what I hoped was his joke, not mild scolding._

_My cheeks turned warm at that memory of that embarrassment.  “Many students fall asleep in class,” I defended.  I had seen them._

_“Yes.  But very few of them wake up and answer a graduate level question by accident.”_

_Did that mean it had been a hard question?  Preposterous!  I was shaking my head without any real thought to the action.  “I do not think …”_

_“It will be a simple exam, Al,” Hooper promised, smiling.  “It won’t count for anything.  If you do poorly on it, it won’t matter.  But if you do well, you will be able to skip a few levels and keep yourself awake.  Or at least fall asleep for a different reason.”_

_I knew I would do poorly.  Humans and their rules and expectations for exams, what they wanted on the papers.  But … but if I could get out of_ that _class, if I could get out of Professor Hunter’s class … surely that would be worth it.  Maybe I could get into Professor Hooper’s class, for he did seem pleasant._

_Should I ask Loren?  I couldn’t think she would disapprove of doing this, but perhaps it was actually a poor choice, like when someone asked if I would like to smoke.  Though I did not_ have _to get her permission or knowledge for everything.  If a human professor was suggesting this, it must be perfectly acceptable.  Loren would agree, I was certain.  This wasn’t like the toilet papering incident._

_“I guess it cannot hurt.”_ I think.

_The human smiled and sat up straighter.  “How about next Thursday sometime?”_

_I thought about my schedule.  “I am free after eleven-thirty.”  Except for when Loren and I studied English and Philosophy, but we did not do that until in the afternoon, after her psychology class.  This test would not take that long.  Tests I took in class were scheduled to only last an hour, an hour and a half at most._

_“Come to my office, then.  We’ll get you set up.  And don’t worry if you can’t answer all the questions, Al.  It’s to help you, see what you know.”_

_No human exam could completely test what I knew about physics, and my amusement might have come out with my smile.  “I understand.”  I paused for a few seconds.  “Am I excused?”_

_Professor Hooper gave me a queer smile but nodded and let me depart. Later that evening, when I told Loren, she confirmed that it was a good idea and would meet me afterwards to ask how it went._

And the test had been easy.  Of course it would be, since I was several centuries ahead.  I had tried to memorize the foolish methods humans used to find the answers the night before – cramming, humans called it – so I could not be accused of cheating again.  It wouldn’t have been in my best interest if _two_ human professors thought I was such a dishonest student.  If they had four eyes, it would have been easy to see there was no possible way for me to have done so, but with two eyes, I suppose a teacher cannot be sure about everyone.

_It was a thirty question exam.  Professor Hooper had taken me to an empty classroom, told me to just do my best, if I couldn’t answer some, it was all right, just get as far as I could and go to the next one, don’t stress out, and to take my time.  I nodded and took the exam, sat near a window.  It was a half basement room, where the windows were high on the wall and I mostly saw bodies from the waist down, but I wanted the view._

_Though he hadn’t mentioned a time limit, based on similar experiences I calculated he would call time in ninety minutes.  Flipping through the exam, it would have only taken me nine minutes. (I had to remember all the human calculations.  If I could have just written the answers, I would have been out in under a minute.) Children’s problems, and I could have solved them before my blade had been fully exposed._

_But I would take the full time, because that would be a human thing to do, so I took my pencil and focused on wasting as much time as possible.  Some problems were so easy I wasted much time trying to figure out exactly how to show my “work.”  I only had to look at the numbers to know that if an object took 3.4 seconds to hit the ground on earth, it was up 57 meters; or that if a force of 16 Newtons gave an object an acceleration of 2 meters per second squared, the object’s mass was 8 kilograms.  So I pretended to punch numbers in my calculator, made scribbles only to erase them, flipped back and forth between pages, scratched my head, chewed my pencil’s eraser – but did not actually_ eat _it – things that showed I was diligently working even when I was bored out of my mind._

_I had been so intent that I gave a small jump when someone tapped on the glass very near the end of my time.  Looking over, Loren had bent down and was waving.  I smiled and waved back, before quickly looking over at Professor Hooper.  He had not noticed, reading a magazine, and I looked back._

_Getting better at reading nonverbal human questions, I shrugged and smiled when she asked how it was going, and then how long until I was done.  Technically, I had fifteen minutes left, but with another distraction present and deciding to leave, I waved up five fingers, making sure Professor Hooper still did not see me.  Loren nodded and pointed off to the side, presumably where she would wait for me, and I signaled I understood, and then watched her legs walk off in that direction._

_After quickly scribbling in a few more answers, some of them the slightest bit off so I wouldn’t get a perfect score, I handed Professor Hooper the exam.  He was smiling when he took it.  “Difficult?”_

_“Exhausting,” I said truthfully._

_“I’m sure you did fine.”_

_I almost agreed, as I calculated I should get a ninety percent, but I caught myself and instead shrugged.  “Have a good day, Professor Hopper.”_

_“You too, Al.  Come to my office tomorrow to see how you did.”_

_I nodded and made my escape.  Outside the building, I looked around until I spotted Loren sitting at the fountain._

_“Did you pass?” she asked cheekily._

_“Of course.  I got all the questions I wanted to right.”_

_Loren laughed.  “All you wanted?  You didn’t ace it?”_

_“I do not want to stand out.”_

_She smiled, shaking her head.  “When you_ don’t _stand out,_ Al Fangor” – there was a certain drawl to my humanized name – _“it’ll be a sad day.”_

_Part of me had to agree, because of what it would mean.  It wasn’t a pleasant thought.  “Let’s go to Mickey D’s.”_

_“You’re going to die of a heart attack before you’re twenty-five.”_

Meeting Professor Hooper the following day, he offered a seat in some of his classes.  He didn’t talk about my exam or how I did, but I must have pleased him there, because why else would he offer an advancement?  I leapt at the offer.  Although primitive in his teachings, he offered me a chance to expand my studies in an accelerated program, and through his lessons I met other students that would become my friends.  These were students that at least could be interested and a bit more correct in their sciences, who led me to my future job and allowed me to learn how to be human in large groups, to feel comfortable in activities that Andalites did not partake in for amusement.  They did not look at me oddly – okay, they did, sometimes – when I accidentally showed a truer Andalite understanding to their calculations or mechanics, did not think me “geeky” or a “nerd,” if only because, as one of them said, they were all geeks and nerds.  Science was a constant in the universe, unlike history or behavior, and I could be confident in my understandings when I was with them.

This building that we were flying around wasn’t the one I had spent the majority of my college life in, but it was one over.  Perhaps I should look up Professor Hooper, but now wasn’t the time.  I searched for Gafinilan’s office.  He said he would put up a bird feeder, take the screen down so we could enter. 

‹Hey, it we want to get in, this guy’s got his window open,› Jake called from the other side.  ‹Screen and everything.  But he’s in there.›

‹So we wait for him to leave,› Rachel pronounced, landing on the roof.

‹Beautiful day like this, he’ll leave soon,› Marco said.

‹Unless he’s working,› Aximili pointed out.  ‹Pulling an all-nighter, like on the television.  Those in locations like this do such a thing often.›

‹He’s going to _have_ to go to the bathroom eventually, Ax,› Marco argued.

Matilda was much more suspicious, and she said to me, ‹Don’t you have a _friend_ who works here?›

I didn’t answer, diving down to check the window.  Yes, I could see the human morph Gafinilan worked under.  The poor fellow was bored, I could see that, and I wondered if he was playing solitaire.  It was a very addicting distraction.

‹Hello,› I called quietly, not wanting to startle him, but he still jumped.  ‹Sorry.›

‹You are late,› he scolded.

‹You try getting children to move.  It is like herding cats,› I defended, swooping in the air.  Playing, really.  ‹Anything to report?›

He took a drink of his pop.  ‹Hardly.  This is a waste of a time, in my opinion.›

I would not argue.

‹In any case, there are six to be shipped.  They are called Bugs, Porky, Daffy, Pepe, Wily, and Sam.›

‹Not Yosemite?› I asked without thinking.

‹What?›

My response was quick.  ‹Never mind.›

He didn’t continue for a moment, probably mocking me privately.  Finally, though, he responded.  ‹They should be here to pick the primates up in forty-five minutes.›

‹Thank you.  Leave whenever you can make it seem natural, and stay away ten minutes.  Then, you can attempt to catch me.  I’ll be a white mouse.  And _don’t_ pick me up by my tail, please.›  I thought it seemed cruel and painful, as I would not want someone picking me up by my _real_ tail.

Gafinilan chuckled. 

I went back up to the roof so one of the children could watch him leave.  I doubted they would suspect him of being an Andalite or our connection, especially with such weak connections, but it was better to be safe than sorry.  And Aximili might somehow notice, if Gafinilan or I were sloppy in our communications.  Sometimes Andalites his age can be more observant than their elders would give them credit for.

On the roof, I perched on the roof of the access and preened my feathers, acting like a normal gull.  One of the others landed next to me.  ‹You could have told me you were getting him to help,› Matilda scolded.

‹Why?› I countered sharply. 

‹Did it ever occur to you that _sometimes_ you should tell people what you’re planning?› she said.  ‹It’s not like I don’t know about him.›

‹You don’t _know_ anything about Prince Gafinilan,› I snapped, because she didn’t.  Did she know about his battles, his heroism?  No.  All she knew, if she knew anything, was that he was also trapped on Earth.  That he had a crippling disease.  That he remained friends with Mertil.  A pittance of knowledge, hardly worth being proud of.  ‹And for what reason should I tell you about anything?›

‹Because I like to know exactly _how_ we’re all risking our lives,› she said with anger.  ‹We should know.›

‹And what do you not know?  All except his part, and at least _I_ can respect his wishes.  Does it never occur to you humans that other species have different desires or expectations?  No, because you are all beyond egocentric – ›

‹Andalites are ones to talk about egos.›

I lifted my wings in what may have been a threatening gesture to this creature normally.  ‹And humans are one to scold about forethought!›  Bitter about the words, I flapped and few to a different part of the roof, ignoring the looks the children might have been giving me.  This was not the time to lose focus, and I struggled to find a calm thought.

It wasn’t very long before Rachel reported that Gafinilan had departed and, without waiting for my permission or making sure he wouldn’t be coming in, she dived in.  (Sometimes, I wanted to bat that human along the side of her hard head!)

‹Come on!  Who knows when he’ll be back!› she called.

‹This is subtle.  Eight birds flying into a window,› Tobias said as he too flew in.

It _would_ have been subtle if they would have waited, would have morphed to their insect forms, or even other smaller creatures.  Cassie had a squirrel, and the others were bound to have other morphs. 

Then again, they would have argued that we did not have time to morph-hop, for they didn’t know the truth.

‹Just _try_ to space it out by thirty seconds, at least,› I sighed.  Of course humans could not properly time things, so I was not too surprised when they did not follow my suggestion.

‹This will be close, Elfangor,› my brother said from his sky height.

Matilda, surprisingly, came to my defense.  ‹We’ll be fine, Ax.  You know your brother.  Better get in there.›

I nearly said I did not need her defense, but it wasn’t important enough.  After everyone else had entered, I flew in, landed, and started to demorph.  Most of the children were finishing.  Rachel and Cassie already had. The former was poised at the door, and Cassie was being anxious, looking out the window. 

“Jeez, can this get any more pathetic?” Marco commented, finished, and looked at Gafinilan’s desk.  “No magazines, no games, no nothing.”

“Some people do _work_ , Marco,” Jake said, going to help his cousin play guard.

‹How primitive,› Aximili said of the work, and he tapped the computer, looking for information.  I trusted him to return it back to the way he found it.

“Marco, stop that.  It’s rude,” Matilda scolded when the boy opened some drawers.

“Come on, Loren.  We’ve done worse,” he argued, but he shut the drawer.  “I was just looking for the stash.”

‹What stash?› I asked, straightening, amused at the idea of Gafinilan having any sort of stash.  Chocolate would not last, and other human entertainments wouldn’t intrigue him.

“Hey, I thought we were supposed to be on a clock?” Rachel snapped.  “We don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“I think I saw him get his wallet out.  He probably went to the vending machine,” Cassie offered.

_We might never see him again_ , I thought, amused.  ‹Rachel is right.  You should start to morph, and I will gather you up when you are a small enough size that it will not hinder me.›

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Cassie asked.  “I mean, Elfangor, someone might try to kill you.”

I smiled.  ‹Do not worry about me.  If anyone does attempt to inhume me, I will endeavor to escape.›

“You better!” Marco agreed.  “I don’t want to be inhumed as a flea.”

“So not as yourself?” Jake said.

“Damn!  You beat me to it,” Rachel groused.

“Oh, ha ha you freakishly tall people.  Mock the vertically-challenged if it makes you feel bigger about yourselves.”

Rachel tsked.  “So sad.”

Children. Why me? It wasn’t fair.  Once the humans and my brother were an easy size, I put them on my back and started to turn to the small white rodent.  They were done and lost in my fur before I was finished, but I was a small, highly-strung rodent.  I wanted to zip around, crawl under things to hide from predators or other dangers, but the plan was for me to be seen.

Well, at least the plan I told me.  What I told the children was different.  Combing the halls for this lab … sometimes I marveled they went along with such schemes.

Since they were little blind creatures that couldn’t see the truth, I told them I was _of course_ leaving, while in actuality I was hugging the wall and sniffing the foot of the desk, leaned up against it.  There _had_ been chocolate here!  The children were anxious on my back, wondering when or if a human would see me, attempt to kill me.  There was still two minutes and twenty-three seconds before I told him to return, but I couldn’t tell them that.   So I could only tell them to be patient as I made my way.

Being young, patience was _not_ their strong suit.

Only a few seconds after the ten-minute mark, I could feel and hear the sounds of him entering, and without meaning to I ducked under the desk.  He was eating a Hershey bar and had a pop and bag of chips.  It was completely unfair that he wouldn’t be able to share.

‹Are you in here?› he asked privately to me.

‹Under the desk.›

‹Ah.  Like the little one’s tale.›

Provided it is not like the human one with the giant who went, _fee, fie, foe, fum_ , I would be okay.  ‹Just be ready.›

He sniffed.  ‹I am not some novice _aristh_.  _You_ be ready.›

Amused at the order – certainly, that’s what he meant it to be – I decided to fully act like a loose mouse.  To fill the part.  After all, I had to pretend Gafinilan was a normal human, act in a way that would not make another normal human suspicious.

I ran over his foot and hid my laugh when he jumped and yelled, “What the –”  I doubted _he_ was acting, even if he had been waiting for me.  “Did one of those mice get lose again?”

Possibly too quick, but he tried to catch me.  The children demanded to know what all the thundering was about.

‹I am merely being chased,› I said calmly as I slipped under a chair, darting back to edge along the side of the desk.  Gafinilan, despite his advantage in size, was no match for the speed and agility of this little form.

‹What?!›

‹We’re going to die!›

‹Stay close to the wall!  Maybe there’s a hole or something!›

‹Watch out for feet!›

‹Did I or did I not mention this plan is insane!›

They have such little faith in me.  Even my brother said, ‹Please make every attempt to escape.  We cannot proceed if you are stepped on by a human!›

‹Calm yourselves,› I chuckled, but not too much.

‹Would you stay still!› Gafinilan hissed.

Part of me wanted to tease, ask why he wasn’t ready, but that would have been immature.  So I allowed myself to be captured, and then said blasé in the darkest from under a cup, ‹Opps.›

‹Oops?!  What’s oops?›

“Got you, devil.”

‹ _You got caught?!_ ›

‹We’re dead!›

‹Now what?›

I sighed.  ‹Calm down.  This is only a minor hiccup.›  Even if this wasn’t part of my plan, it wasn’t useful to panic. 

‹ _Minor!_ ›

“Another one of you mice must have escaped the lab.  Sloppy interns.  I’m sick of returning their escapees.”

‹Hmmm … perhaps we’ll be getting a free ride,› I commented.

‹This almost seems … too easy,› Rachel pouted.

‹It’s not over yet,› Jake said.

Their chatter was a comfortable background noise was Gafinilan carried us.  Strange that I would grow used to them complaining, would take it as nothing to be concerned about, but there you have it. 

‹You’re in luck.  No one’s around, and I’ve set the camera’s on a loop for the next fifteen minutes,› Gafinilan murmured, carefully slipping me into a box that I could very easily jump out of.  No doubt he realized it.  ‹Tell me about this … if you live.›

Warrior humor.  Where would we be without it? 

Once Gafinilan disappeared, I stuck my head over the box edge.  ‹Coast’s clear.›  Jumping easily, I looked around.  With the small body, the lab looked huge.  ‹Cassie, Aximili, if you would?›

Cassie would assist in getting the chimpanzee and disposing of it in a way she would find appropriate, Aximili in getting information I was already aware of.

‹You sure you don’t need more back-up?› Rachel asked.

‹Sometimes, less is more,› I said as I grew.  Alongside me, my brother and Cassie grew as well.  Cassie changed fastest, of course.  The animals around us were making noises in surprise, scurrying in their tiny cages.  I did not let myself imagine their futures.

Cassie, mostly human, went to the door, looked out, before going to the cages.  “They’re already marked for delivery,” she whispered.

I nodded to Aximili, who typed at the computers, determining the truth and any particular details.  Just because something was marked to be delivered, it didn’t mean that there hadn’t been a last minute change.

“This one seems like a nice little guy,” Cassie said.

I didn’t care which I would become.  ‹Let us hurry.  We do not know how long we have until the technicians return, and the chimpanzees are to be shipped in less than thirty minutes.›

With Cassie’s assistance, I acquired the creature.  For the briefest second, I thought Cassie was going to say something, but when I gave her more attention, she did not speak.  Aximili cut open the wiring over the windows, one by a tree, and Cassie pushed the primate out the opening as gently as she could.

I wasn’t paying attention to them, because I was more concerned about being forced into that cage with that … mess.  I shouldn’t have been surprised.  They were related to humans, and humans were messy creatures as well.  But humans at least did not wallow in their own feces!

This, I sensed, was going to be a _long_ and very _smelly_ ride.

 ****

“The Yeerks have created a formula to remove free will?” Gafinilan commented as I poured myself another cup of butterscotch-flavored coffee.  He chewed on the cheet-os and licked off the yellow-orange powder from his fingertips.

“So Visser Three claims, believes.” I shook my head.  “Through, you’ll have to forgive me for being less certain.  Being confronted with Visser Three in that form was not something I planned.  Blasted ill luck of it all.”

Gafinilan frowned.  “You’re not going to look into it?”

“Break into a meat-packaging plant, where this Phase 3 is occurring?”  I shuddered.  “The fact of the matter is … I don’t believe that nonsense those Controllers said.  I don’t.  Remove free will with no other ill effects, creating mindless automatons? Very unlikely.”

“True, and even if it was, I do not believe the Yeerks could ever create something like that,” he agreed with Andalite superiority.

I did not shake my head.  If Yeerks had human ingenuity – such as it could be – under their control, anything might be possible.  “In any case, I have asked some of our allies to break into their computers.  They may not like it, but considering the nonsense they make us to, they will not complain unduly.  We will get the files.  I know basic pharmacotherapy and they are near experts.  If it does appear to be something we need to be concerned about, we’ll … do something.”  I shrugged.

“Of course.”  He didn’t ask what, because he must have realized I didn’t know what we would do.  Instead he looked around and his eyes fell on Champ, lying next to me.  Sometimes I accidentally dropped a treat for him.  “Isn’t your home filled with more beings normally?”

“The children have school.  My brother is out running.  He does not like to be in the house too often.”

“And the elder female?”

I waved my hand.  “Wherever she wishes.  I do not babysit her.”

“You are often together.”

Confused at the statement, I gave him a blank look.

“You spend many hours together in this house.”

“We live here.  And I did not realize you were so bored you spent your days spying on me.”  My tone was only a bit peevish.

“If you would not make it so easy,” Gafinilan reproached.  “You do not even have biofilters or anything up.  The Yeerks could easily spy on you.”

“I have already _had_ Yeerks spying on me.  I think actually _having_ biofilters and force fields would spike their interest.”

He blinked at me.  “They know?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  My cover is merely a human they could find use in.  I have extensive background in computers and a degree in quantum physics.”

Gafinilan gave me a disapproving look.  “You should have blended in better.”

“I have no time to pretend to be human for eight hours of a day at one of their mind-numbing jobs,” I replied, possibly to wound.  And it was not like any regular Andalite would know what to pretend to be.

It silenced him.  “I do see you often in company with the older female, though.”

I sighed and stood up just a second before the alarm on the oven was due to go off.  “She lives here, I live here.  Despite the common sense in living in the forest, I cannot afford to be away from the house.  I do not have an underground area to be myself, after all.  The children need to be able to find me easily, our allies have to be able to contact us if the need arises.”  I pulled out the tator tot casserole and put it on the counter to cool, before checking on the vegetables in their pans.  “And the female was hunted by Yeerks.  It wouldn’t be safe for her to live alone.”

“Is that all?”

I turned and looked at him sharply.  No, he would not be insinuating what the humans foolishly would.  He was an Andalite.  “What else should there be?”

“I do not know.  It is why I asked.”

A neat little answer, if I do say so myself.  “Of course,” I replied in the same tone.  I didn’t know what he was getting to, because Gafinilan did not show off emotions easily in human form, or in Andalite, if I must be honest.  I turned my attention away from him to drain the corn, standing against the heat from the stream.

“You cook very often.”

“I have to get nutrients somehow.  I’m lucky if I get a decent run a night, and that is hardly enough.”  Like all grazers, Andalites need to eat more often than a carnivore to get the necessary nutrients.  And since we Andalites get our food by absorption, we must ingest even more often, especially on Earth grass, which tends to be less rich than our native grasses.  “And the humans need food as well.  It is just … easier,” I sighed. 

“Yes, I suppose it would be.  Beneficial as well, to eat human foods daily.”

Turning, I saw him quite possibly salivating at my foods, and I almost laughed.  This was hardly the best I could have done, nor the tastiest, but the smell was working its allure.  The snack of cheet-os had not filled him.  “Possibly.  At least my brother is learning human etiquette.”

“I was not a very … proficient cooker.”

I waved to a shelf of recipe books.  “It took me a bit, as well, and with references.  Mostly, though, I do much by what tastes I enjoy.  If the humans do not like it, they complain at their leisure.  Often.”  I smiled at my little joke. 

“Humans,” he said, making a rude sound.

“Indeed.”    There was quiet between us, and I dumped the vegetables into their bowls, keeping my back to him so my amusement wouldn’t show.  However, when I sent the dish down on the table, I finally folded.  “You can stay for lunch, of course.”

“If it would be no trouble.”

He only said it to be polite, certain that I would be polite in kind.  I got out the plates and silverware, handing him a set.  “Of course not.  Help yourself.”

And he did so, even while I finished bringing the dishes to the table.  Gafinilan already heaped the food on his plate and was eating with the forced manners Aximili favored.  His movements and actions were a step away from being unrestrained, and I was amused.  _I_ was not so terrible.

By the time I sat, half of his first serving was gone, and I made my own plate.  Perhaps allowing him to dine was not the wisest decision.  I did have to eat, after all.  But I could not, and would not, demand Gafinilan leave.  There was something undeniably pleasant about conversing with a fellow Prince, an Andalite my age.  Even if we did not talk about missions, there were far more similarities than there were differences.  Even our silences were better.

“Why is this creature staring at me?” Gafinilan said ten minutes later, eyeing Champ.

“He merely wants scrapes.”  I did not laugh at his face, which said how likely the Prince would be willing to part with his foods.  “Champ, here.  Sit.  Down.  There’s a good boy.”  After dropping a forkful of the food into his mouth, careful to avoid getting the utensil actually in his mouth, I scratched his head.  He inched closer to me.

“I thought human pets got their own type of food.”

“I spoil him, I fear.  His mistress used to scold me for giving him scrapes, because he’s supposed to be trained to not beg for them.”

“Then why do you do it?”

I shrugged.  “He is a good dog.”

Gafinilan gave me a look at my answer, but chose to continue eating.  The casserole was very nearly decimated before Champ perked up and padded out, leaving the kitchen.  Listening past the sounds of my chewing and the silverware scrapping, I could hear a vehicle pull up, and my eyes widened as I looked at the clock.  She was early, if she said she was going to see a movie!

“Wah?” Gafinilan asked, wary, mouth full.

“The female … she’s returning early.  No, no, don’t worry.  She won’t –”

“Something smells good!” she called, and within a few moments she was entering, baring bags of food.  Matilda did a double-take at the sight of Gafinilan.  “Oh, you have company.”

“Yes.”  I stood awkwardly, because even though they had met previously, it had been under less than ideal circumstances.   Gafinilan had stopped eating and was tense.  I went to help relieve her of her burdens.  “I thought … you were to be out longer.”

“It sold out, and I didn’t really want to see it anyway.”

“Ah.”  A pause, and then I realized it was inevitable.  “You remember Mr. McClellan?”

She darted her eyes between us.  “Yes, of course.  Pleased to meet you again.”

“Yes.”  Gafinilan stood.  “I should depart.”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that!” she said quickly.  “Please, sit.”

“No, I think –”

“What is it with you Andalites?” Matilda huffed, clearly exasperated, but Gafinilan looked at me with a panic and fury in his eyes.

“You told her about me?!”

I understood the insult he must have felt at such a disclosure.  For me to have so casually mentioned that he was not fighting, he could never have held his tail high on our world, especially if I had told of his reasons.  “No!  No, of course not!  Humans are nosy creatures.  She eavesdropped.”  I scowled at her as I set the bags on the counter.  One corner was cold, and inside there was a tub of ice cream.  Plain vanilla, because she thought it was healthier.

Matilda blushed at my disclosure.  “Well, I had to make sure he wasn’t going to get us killed.”

Gafinilan frowned, uncertain who to be more upset at – me, for not disciplining my troops, or her, for such disrespect.  “Prince Elfangor would not intentionally get you killed.”

“I should hope not!  I’m Loren, by the way.  If you didn’t remember.  Or were told.”

He gave me a quick look before intoning, “A pleasure, I am sure.  I am Prince Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad.”

She smiled, as if by getting him to say his name she had accomplished a great deed.  “So what were you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” I said, frowning.  See?  Nosy humans.

After giving me a look, Matilda continued, “I have to thank you for helping us get into that lab, Gafinilan.”

Part of me winced.  To call him only by his primary without permission, or at least without the honorific … I cast him a quick look, but he showed nothing.

“It was the least I could do.”

“Yeah, well, even still, thanks.  You probably saved us a bit headache.  Did Elfangor tell you everything?”

What did she _think_ we had talked about?  “Of course I have,” I said.

“And did you tell him _everything_?” she said in that tone.

“Of course,” I replied.

“Of course,” she repeated tartly.

I caught Gafinilan’s expression as he listened to us.  Puzzled and confused.  “Perhaps I _should_ depart.”

“No, no.  You should at least stay for ice cream,” Matilda protested, taking the tub from my chilled hands.

She shot me a look and I replied in a dull voice, “Yes, if you like.”

Matilda stepped over and nearly pushed him back down.  Gafinilan folded, because ice cream is a tempting force.  “Besides, I need to figure out something.”

“What?” he asked carefully.

“If I tell you that, I might not get the truth.  Relax, I’m joking.  You, sit,” she said, pointing at me.  I did so, because it was just easier.  “I’ll get the bowls.”

Once her back was turned, Gafinilan asked me quietly, ‹Are all human like this, or just the females?›

‹Possibly just her,› I replied just as quietly.

“I know you’re talking about me!”

“We were not!” I protested without a thought, almost instinctively.

“Ha!  Two scoops for lying.”

I frowned.  They would be tiny scoops, I knew.  ‹She is angry at me.  Pay her no mind.›

‹What did you do?›

I glared at him, affronted.  ‹I did _nothing_!  She over-reacted and is simply human.›

‹I see.›  For a second, a smile flickered across his face.

“Here we go.  For you, and for you,” she simpered, giving me the bowl with scoops that were probably retrieved using a tablespoon, before sitting down.  “So, tell me, Gafinilan, was Elfangor as big of an ass on the ship?”

“An ass?”  Now he _was_ smiling, amused.  But as to what amused him, I was unsure.  Was it at the human’s curiosity, or at the possibility to recount my flaws?

“A jerk, a dickwad, an idiot, an egotistical maniac,” she supplied.

Almost unbidden, I recalled Gafinilan’s former opinion of me, and I nearly thought to warn him that whatever he reported, I could report about him as well.  But Gafinilan would not be so impolite to speak about such things in my presence.

“I do not believe so.”

“Liar.”

He did not respond, focusing on the ice cream.  But he said to me, ‹I can almost see why you like the human, Prince Elfangor.›

‹Odd, because sometimes I cannot.›

 ****


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 29

 “And humans believe these things?” my brother asked.

“No,” Rachel said at the same time I said, “Yes.”

“Some people believe it, Ax, but most people don’t,” Cassie explained while Rachel scowled at me.

“It’s just something for fun,” Jake said.

Marco jumped in.  “Not that they aren’t true.  I mean, that horoscope, totally me.”

“No, no it isn’t,” Rachel said as she looked at the magazine that held the dress she was to buy for the school dance.  “Nope.  Nothing about being short and annoying in it.”

“Does everyone have one of these things?” Aximili asked.

“Yeah.  They’re based on when you’re born.  Like mine is Libra,” Tobias said.

Cassie said, “And I’m a Taurus.”

Aximili shook his head.  “It is very illogical.”

“That’s humans in a nutshell,” I commented, filling in the crossword.

“Behave,” Matilda scolded.

“Become logical,” I said, looking up.  “Horoscopes, Zodiac, numerology, blood types, as if random things determine anything about a person.  The descriptions are vague enough to describe anyone.”

“Things don’t have to be concrete fact to be true.”

I blinked at the logic, or lack thereof.  “Yes, they do.  Truth is concrete facts.”

Jake said, “I agree that horoscopes are bogus.  Just something to waste money on, like palm reading and those card-things.  But some things don’t need to have proof, you just believe.”

Though I didn’t say anything in response, I gave him a look. 

Rachel continued flipping through the magazine.  She was trying to talk Cassie into a yellow dress and had been failing.  “I guess I really can’t believe the Chinese Zodiac.  We all have the same sign or whatever, and we’re completely different.”

“Yeah.  See, the rest of us are _sane_ ,” Marco simpered.

“You are?” Jake gasped, then ducked when Marco took a good-natured swipe at him.

“I never knew they had theories about blood type,” Cassie commented.  “Maybe I’ll ask my mom what I am.”

“I already know what I am.  I’m an A-plus,” Marco grinned.

“Only time you ever see that,” Jake laughed.

“You’re probably a big, fat O-neg,” Rachel agreed.

“What is this blood type?”

I looked at my brother to explain.  “It’s the same as _baqu_ and _ders_ classes.”

Aximili was surprised.  “Humans believe their personality is based on whether or not they have antibodies or antigens?”

“What do you have?” Cassie asked.

“My family has been _Yoi-ui_ for many generations.  It is a very common type among Andalites in our region.  But I don’t see how you don’t know what your blood classifications are.  It should be common health information.  How else are you going to get appropriate care?”

“I know mine.  I’m O-positive,” Matilda defended good-naturedly.  “And most people don’t learn until they need to fill out a lot of paperwork, donate blood, or actually need a transfusion.”

“And hey, I don’t see you knowing your human blood type, Ax,” Rachel said, “since it’s so very important.”

My brother sniffed.  “It is not necessary for me to know it.  _I_ am not human.”

“Whatever it is, it will be a combination of whatever yours are,” I commented dryly.  “Blood types are based on genetics, so his options are limited to what type each of you are.  I know that my human type is AB-negative.”

“You’re kidding?” Marco exclaimed, startling me.  “We could make a fortune selling it.  That’s like the rarest there is.”

I frowned at him.  “I’m glad I have some use to you, leeching my blood for profit.  Remind me to keep you away from any needles.”

“You know the rarest blood type, but you don’t know your own?” Jake sighed, shaking his head.

“They pay,” Marco said as if it explained everything.

“Yeah, but you didn’t even check to see if you could,” Tobias said.

Marco rolled his eyes.  “They have this stupid rule that you have to be seventeen before they give you money.  I mean, come on, it’s blood.  Take it and give me money.”

“I’m glad you are so altruistic,” I commented.

“Oh, I totally am.”

“You have no idea what that word means, do you?” Rachel said.

“Not a clue.”

 ****

It was odd to see Matilda on the computer, and I paused my trek.  “What are you looking up?”

She jumped and quickly buried a bunch of papers.  They looked like official documents of some sort.  “Nothing.  Research.” 

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

“You know, at least the children lie a bit more convincingly,” I said, crossing my arms.

“You don’t have to be nosy.”  She turned in her chair more to face me, shuffling the papers into a folder.  “If you must know, they’re just health records.  Insurance things.  Stuff like that.”

“How boring.  Any reason?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t need a reason.”  For a moment, Matilda gave me a look.  “How did you even know what your blood type is?  Human, I mean.  You’ve never gone to a hospital or whatever.”

Yes, I had, but I didn’t bother correcting her.  “They used to have students test their blood using kits in science class, before the AIDS and HIV scare.  Perhaps they still do them.  I checked to see what mine officially was.  Like Aximili said, such knowledge should be known.”

After rolling her eyes, Matilda nodded.  “Yeah, it should.”

“Glad you agree.”

“Don’t be an ass.”  Before I could comment, she continued, “I’m going to clean the bathroom.  The soap scum is getting smart.”

“Very well.”

“So that means you have to buy new brushes, combs, and stuff.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re old.  Even if you never used your toothbrush, it’s getting thrown away.”

I smiled.  “I’ve used it. When I get things stuck in my teeth,” I explained before she could ask.  “It’s easier than demorphing.”

“I’ll bet.  Anyway, I’m doing it tomorrow, so you have to go get everything.”

“Why do I have to?”

Matilda shrugged.  “Fine.  If you’d rather clean the tub and scrub the toilet –”

“I’ll go, I’ll go.”

“Thought you would.  It was nice of you to let Ax go to the dance, by the way.”

“He does not need my permission,” I said, surprised.

She gave a little smile.  “Sure he doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t.”

Shaking her head, she set the folder on her lap.  “It was nice of you to help them get ready.  Junior high dances are all drama, I think.  I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“All I did was tie Aximili’s tie and tell Tobias he looked presentable,” I frowned, not seeing the issue.  After all, I was hardly an expert on these things.  “You said the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m his mom.  He doesn’t think I’d tell him the truth.”

“And I would?”  Would he have the same opinion if he knew the truth about his heritage?

“It’s more like … you have decent taste.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

She laughed.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just … well, male bonding or something like that.”  There was a pause.  “Like a father-figure, you know.”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know how.  I just remained standing, arms crossed.  Instead, I asked, “How late is the dance supposed to go?”

“Tobias said he’d give us a call when they were ready to leave.  I didn’t want to give them a curfew or anything.  I mean, it isn’t like I can’t trust him.”

“Can you?” I asked rhetorically, trying not to smile too broadly.  “Children that age, they’re always getting into mischief.”

“Aren’t they?” Matilda agreed.  “You want to come into town and pick them up when I get the call?”

“If you wish, but why?”

“Because if they did get into trouble, you do the whole disapproving thing better than me.”

I laughed and pushed off the wall.  “Do not sell yourself short.  You do disapproving quite well.”  I gave her a nod.  “Call me if you want me to come along.”

“Got it.”

****

Aximili had developed _Yamphut_.  It was not good, at all, not will all the probably implications.

‹Hush, hush, little one,› I murmured, taking care of his bedding.  I had had to go and pick him up from the school, and the rest of the children as well.  If I had known … well, I still would have gone, he is my little brother, but I would have been aware of what I was walking into.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tobias asked.

‹He has _Yamphut_.›  I rubbed my neck, subconsciously checking my own gland.  Still cool, no inflammation, no pain.  ‹We must all go in isolation for the next week.›

“What?” asked Jake.

‹ _Yamphut_ is ….›  I sighed and tried to think of a way to explain it.  ‹It is like appendicitis.›

“So something’s going to explode in Ax?” Rachel asked.

‹I will endeavor to prevent that from happening.›

“So, wait, if it’s like appendicitis, why do we have to keep away from each other?” Jake said.

“Because you’re all ewwwwwww?  Or because Elfangor’s paranoid?” Marco tried.  Rachel snorted.

‹No.  Because of _why_ he has developed _Yamphut_.›

“Why does that matter?” Cassie asked, kneeling next to him.

Taking a deep breath, I looked away.  ‹We, Aximili and I, have been relatively lucky in that we have not gotten ill while we have been on Earth.  The standard vaccines are helping as they should, but they cannot prevent everything.  So it happened that Aximili has finally contracted a very contagious virus.  It is possible it could mutate and attack humans as well.›

“So that means you’re going to get it too?” Tobias whispered, which startled the others into staring at me.

‹Yes, because my immune system would not be equipted to defend against the virus or bacterium that is infecting Aximili.› 

“So what’s going to happen?” Cassie demanded.

‹For you humans, I do not know.  Probably not as serious as for Andalites.›

“Which is what?” Matilda asked quietly.

Detaching myself clinically, I recalled old medical lessons.  ‹ _Yamphut_ merely describes the inflammation of the Tria gland, located at the back of the head,› I said quietly, indicating the area on myself.  ‹The Tria gland is similar, I suppose, to a lymph node in humans, where antibodies are formed.  The offending foreign material unfortunately also tends to accumulate in the gland, an old evolutionary quirk.›

“A crappy one, if something in your _head_ is going to _explode_!” Marco stated.  “Though, given all the thinking you do, something that probably was going to happen anyway.”

“Something you’re not familiar with,” Rachel replied.

My eyes twitched to smile.   ‹There is a logical reason, and it is only at risk of exploding during terrible infections when the body is overcome.  Though, currently, I suppose I will have to agree with your assessment.  It is rather poor planning.›

“This _Yamphut_ , what happens during it?” Cassie pressed.

‹High fever, at its onslaught, and pressure from the gland.  Eventually, once the fever drops, the gland explodes, releasing billions of trapped microorganisms into the body.  And as with the human condition appendicitis, if the gland is not removed, chance of death is very high.  In the past, rare, mind, and back in the ancient history before modern medicine, whole herds of Andalites were killed within days because of an outbreak from especially virulent strands.  Most often these days, it hits the very young, rather like strep throat.›

“I had strep throat.  My throat was never going to explode, though it felt like it.”

“Marco, shut _up_.”

‹The gland only explodes in the worst scenerios.›  My main eyes fell back to my brother.  ‹Which, I fear, given the speed and degree of fever, is very likely.›

“That means you and Ax could …” Tobias trailed off.

‹Hopefully I will remain well enough to perform the surgery before I am incapacitated.  And hopefully the field training I have will be enough.›

“But what about Aftran?” Cassie asked.  “She needs help!  She’s going to be tortured.”

I closed my eyes, remembering the details of the Yeerk they had chattered at me.  ‹Yes.  So we shall have to do something.  But it is not wise to go into battle when one is ill, especially with _Yamphut_.›  Though it would be humorous if we could somehow infect Visser Three. I hoped though it would not somehow spread to Gafinilan or Mertil.  There was no way we could get to them to help, and there was no way we could truly warn them.  Any contact would put them at risk from the very thing we were to warn them about.

“We might not get anything!  It’s an Andalite disease, after all,” Rachel said flippantly.  “We’ll take care of it.”

I looked at them warily.  I did not like them going into battle without me.  However, there was no choice.  ‹Very well.  But if any of you become ill, Aftran is not the main concern.  Speak to the Chee, see if they can assist in any way.  And then we must decide what we shall even do with the Yeerk.›

“What?” Cassie asked.

Jake understood.  “She can’t go back to the Yeerk pool.  She’ll die from Kandrona starvation.”  Cassie’s eyes were wide.

‹We shall cover that when necessary.  Now, time is of the essence.  Watch each other, for fevers, for any sign of human illness.  Perhaps you may not get anything, but I do not think that will be the case.  Hope, yes, but do not believe.›

“Elfangor, you are a rainbow of positive sunshine,” Marco said.

I narrowed my eyes at him.  But I didn’t say what I wanted to.  ‹Stay well.  And you had best start your rescue.  You may not have much time.›  I knelt back down to Aximili.

 ****

I wrote about everything I could about the disease, the surgery, with poor diagrams as well.  After twenty-four hours, I knew there was no way I was going to remain well enough in health to perform the surgery.  I asked a Chee if they would be willing, if need be.  I got no definitive answer, despite my screaming and begging and pleading.  I spoke with the children, with Matilda about my concerns. 

And I was right about the disease.  Jake had fallen.  Rachel as well.  The rest would as well, I knew.  Thankfully, it was just like a bad case of the flu for them.  It probably _was_ an influenza virus that had started this all.

I kept Aximili comfortable, spoke and told him simple stories.  Kept him occupied.  I was not made for the medical professions, but I managed this.  This, after all, was family.  This was my little brother.

I was in the process of making him a decent mash to eat, as well as extra for when I became ill, when Matilda rushed in and, I heard, to the bathroom.  Retching soon followed.  I sighed, stopping the blender, and took a Sprite from the refrigerator as well as some saltine crackers from their box.  I had gone shopping almost as soon as I learned we would all fall to this.  I set them onto a plate, retrieved a large bowl, and made my way to the bathroom, where the unpleasant sounds still sounded.

I stood past the frame waiting patiently until the sounds subsided, then knocked quietly before moving in.  Matilda was still kneeling and looking pitiful, but she turned her head to look at me.

“Here,” I said without much emotion.  I had headaches that were getting worse, a slight fever.  Too much emotion made me prone to wavering in my morph. “I went shopping.  There’s a bunch of medicines in the cabinets as well.”

She looked up at me, a fevered face.  I was thrown back in the past, but only for a moment.  “How are you?”

“Tolerable.  Come on, up, up, let’s get you to bed.”  I took her hand and helped her to her feet.  She wavered for a moment and looked sick.  “All right, we’ll take this slow.  Up the steps.”

We made it up, Matilda leaning against me heavily.  We made the journey in silence and I led her to her room, made her sit and lie down on the bed.  Without much thought I slipped off her shoes and covered her up.

“Here’s your bowl.  Please aim for it.  Some crackers and pop to settle your stomach.  And I’ll go get you some medicine,” I said simply, leaving to go to the bathroom cabinet.  I read the labels, squinted at the spinning letters.  Chose a few and took them with, opening them up.

“Take these.  They should help, a bit.  Though who can tell with human medicine,” I said as I returned, sitting on the bed.

Matilda made a face, but took them.  I helped a bit, handing her the pop.

“You’re not too bad at being a nurse,” she muttered.

I made a noise.  “Perhaps.  Rest.”

“How is Ax?”

“As well as can be expected.  I will be feeding him once I get done making the mash.  I hope his fever breaks soon.  The sooner the better.”  Otherwise I would not be able to help him.

“And you?” she asked, touching my wrist.

I stood, shaking off her hand irritably.  “You have already asked me that.  I am still tolerable.  And if you’ll excuse me.”  I started to leave.  “Rest.  If possible, I will check on you every few hours.”

“Thank you, Elfangor” she mumbled.

“You’re welcome.”

 ****

I have done many, many dumb things in my life, but going t the school to pick up Tobias probably was one of the worst.  While my symptoms were coming on slower than Aximili’s had, possibly due to my older immune system, they were coming.  I was getting a fever even in my human morph and I was starting to tremble at odd intervals with the effort to keep my human form.  In fact, I very nearly was going to go down to the basement and merely rest before the phone rang.

It was the school nurse, telling about Tobias.  She was apologetic because she couldn’t get in contact with Tobias’ uncle, and I was listed as an additional contact.  I seriously wavered on my ability, but I finally agreed I’d pick him up.

Not a second after hanging up, I felt dizzy.  No, I couldn’t do this.  Matilda would have to go and I slowly made it upstairs to her room.  The door was opened, but I still knocked before entering.  Champ, lying on his side, turned his head to look at me before returning to his position.  Matilda was asleep and I stepped over the dog to reach her, gently shake her awake.

She mumbled and moaned and blinked blearily at me.  “Elfangor …?”  Her voice was quiet and hoarse, and her face was sweaty, short hair messed up.

“Do you feel well?”  It was a dumb question, but it was all I could think to say.

Her face twisted in annoyance.  “Go away,” she mumbled, turning away.

I felt her forehead.  She was burning up, or maybe we both were. So much for her going in my stead.  “Are you still awake?” I asked quietly, stroking back her damp hair.  She made a sound, though whether it signified consciousness was a matter for debate.  “I am going out for a few minutes.”

“Wha … why?” she asked, opening a crusty eye.  “You’re sick.”

“Not as terrible as you.  Tobias needs someone to pick him up.”

She tried to push herself up.  “No.  I can …”

Gently, I stopped her.  “No.  No.”

“But you might demorph or som– … I can go.”  She tried to sound more forceful, but her voice was cracking under the strain.

I smiled.  “Just go back to sleep.  I can manage a short trip.”  Hopefully, I wasn’t lying.  “Lay down, now.”

“Wear a hat.”

“In this weather?  Go back to sleep.”

“Wear a hat!” she repeated.

“Go to sleep.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, but finally relaxed into the bed.  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course.  Rest.”  I straightened, but the room swam a bit and I staggered.  I hoped she didn’t notice and I stepped back over the lazy dog.  I hoped he wasn’t going to get sick as well.  Dogs, unless I was mistaken, did not know how to aim their vomit into a salad bowl.

It was a slow process down the steps, retrieving a hat, and going to the car.  I drove the Mustang with the top down, hoping the air would keep my head fresh and my body cool.  I made sure my speed was slow, for I didn’t need a police officer pulling me over because I was swerving.  It was possible driving with one eye closed would be seen as illegal, but it did cut down on the double vision.

I pulled up and parked my car in front of the school, where the buses were loaded.  Even though signs did prohibit it, I did not feel like walking or seeking another spot, and school did not let out for a few more hours.  My legs were shaky as I got out and I had to grip the railing to help myself up the steps.  Inside, I looked around a bit hopelessly.  It felt even hotter in here.  It was possible that if there hadn’t been signs telling me the way to the office, I don’t think I could have figured it out.

The office was like any human office.  There was a secretary and I went to the counter to lean heavily against the counter.  “I’m here … to pick up Tobias.  I got a call that he was sick.”

The woman looked up at me.  “And you look like you are as well, Sir!” she said, concerned.

I tried to smile.  “The whole house is, I’m afraid.  My brother shares like that.”

The woman stood.  “Here, sit down, sir.”  She made me sit at one of the chairs without my approval.  “You’re burning up.”

“Thank you for that.”  I said, leaning forward in the seat, a hand to keep my hat on.  My knee was shaking, which was a bad sign.  “Do you need some identification or something?  To prove or I don’t know, something?  I’ve got,” I dug into my pocket, but dropped my wallet.

“Don’t worry … Mr. Fangor,” she said, opening the fold before giving it back to me.  “Just wait here.  I’ll go down to the Nurse’s office and bring him here.”

My eyes closed, I focused on my internal balance.  But the scents were troubling my nose, making my human stomach rebel.  I shouldn’t have come.  I should have just called a cab to pick Tobias up.  That would have taken care of everything.  Stupid fool!  Damn this illness, ruining my common sense, if I had any to begin with.

“Mr. Fangor?”

I straightened and looked up with wide eyes at Mr. Chapman, who was just exiting his office.  “Mr. Chapman.”  I tried to stand, but it was done too fast.  “Forgive me.  And stay away, for your health.”  And if I should start sprouting blue whiskers, he’d be less likely to notice.

“Why are you here?  Is Alexander enrolling?”

I laughed a bit highly.  “No.  His friend took ill and I am taking him home, since the school couldn’t reach his uncle.”

“That’s very nice of you.  Especially since you …” He trailed off.  “Is the rest of your household under?”

“Except the dog.  So far.  Trust me, get the flu shot.”

“Working here, I have to,” he commented.  “It has hit hard this year, though.  Students are going to the Nurse when they’re actually sick, not to just avoid an exam.”

I tried to think of something witty, but I failed and could only smile weakly.  The secretary and Tobias then entered.  The boy looked miserable, pale green.  “Al, I didn’t want them to call you,” he apologized.  “I could have stayed here and –”

“Never mind,” I said, pushing myself up.  “You can stay with us until your uncle is off.  Sick birds of a feather and all that.”

“See, I told you he did not mind,” the secretary said, patting Tobias’ shoulder.  “If you could just sign and confirm you picked him up, Mr. Fangor, we’ll let you get home.”

I signed the appropriate form.  “Do you have all your homework?”

“We’ll get it for him,” Mr. Chapman supplied with a smile after Tobias looked confused.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”  I rubbed my forehead.  “Come on, let’s go.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of fluids!” the secretary called.

“You shouldn’t have come.  After what happened with Ax,” Tobias protested weakly as we went to my car.

I opened the door and made him get in.  “I have my responsibilities, and there is no ship’s doctor telling me I can’t do my job.  Will you need a blanket?”

“No.” He curled in the seat.

Using the car as a support, I made it to the other side.  Once behind the wheel, I gave Tobias the trash bin.  “Throw up in this or I will throw you out.”

“Mom was right,” he tried to smile.  “You like your car better than us.”

“No.”  I leaned over and felt his forehead.  “At least your fever is not as bad as the rest of ours.”

“Yeah, you really look like crap.”

“Thank you, Pot.”  I started the car and drove slowly away.

“How’s Ax?”

“He was fine when I left.  Still feverous and delirious, but with more moments of sanity than not.  And so is your mother.”

He looked over the door at the ground and I was almost afraid he was going to vomit that way.  “You do know we’re half on the gravel?”

“Better than being half over the yellow line.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Stop that,” I scolded and reflexively tightened my hands on the steering wheel.  “I have been sicker than this.”

Tobias looked at me.  “Sicker than having your _Tria_ gland ready to explode and cause you to die?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Do you know what happens to beings that become _nothlits_?  They have no natural defenses to the bacteria, the diseases.  There is no natural flora in their body to prevent the more vicious bacteria from taking over.  Within a week, if they don’t get inoculations or ingest something with native antibodies to protect them and the, forgive the misnomer, safer bacteria haven’t cultured on the body, the _nothlit_ is hit with everything at once.  The minor cold weakens the immune system, then the fevers.  If it’s flu season, it just gets worse.  Chicken pox from a child.  It all builds up, goes downhill and snowballs.  Send them to the hospital, perhaps?  Did you know human hospitals are the worst to be sent to?  You’re guaranteed to leave sicker with a nosocomial infection, and human hospitals are where the really bad infections reside, the ones which have medication resistance.”

“That happened to you?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Not the chicken pox.  But everything else, yes.  I was in the hospital for nearly three weeks.  No insurance or money, barely any records of my existence, not to mention surrounded by creatures that thought it was advanced they weren’t using sharpened stones on me.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t ask any more questions.  What I told him wasn’t a lie.  After that first week, I got a cough, a hacking cough from deep in my lungs.  I ignored it, because the stress with everything I had done, it didn’t really matter.  Loren had been concerned, but I ignored her.  What did she know? 

Apparently, it had been a lot.  Perhaps the stress of my situation made it worse, weakened my already compromised immune system.  All I knew was the cough turned worse, with sputum, thick and hard to remove.  A fever followed, chills.  I got strep throat, and my glands swelled up.  Food bacteria made me get severe GI upset, dehydrating me as fluids were expelled.  Loren insisted I go to the hospital, and her mother concurred.  Over-ridden by two females and too sick to protest, I went into the hospital.  They poked needles into me, connected bags filled with antibiotics and fluids to me, made me stay in a bed.  Loren visited every day, even if I might have been insensible.  I remember the doctors thought I may have been depressed, thought I was brain-addled because my English was filled with played with sounds, thought I was crazy because I demanded them to get out the real medical tools and medications, not those primitive needles and scalples and fluid bags and pills that I couldn’t even swallow.

Doctors are evil in any culture.  Nothing but trumped up little megalomaniacs with delusions of grandeur and a sadistic streak.  Simple fact.

But don’t tell them I said that.

We made it to my home, but I blinked at my driveway.  The hallucination didn’t go away, and it occurred to me that it wasn’t one.  There was an additional vehicle sitting there.

“Who’s here?”

“I don’t …”

The question was answered when the door opened and Mrs. King stepped out of the doorframe.  “Mr. Fangor, Tobias,” she smiled.  “Loren called me and asked me to come and care for you.”  I was in too much shock to protest when her hand touched my head.  “Almost one hundred!  You are to go to your brother, this instant.”

“I’m fine.”

“You might fool the humans with that, Prince Elfangor,” she smiled, opening the car door and hoisting me out.  “But I can see your skin color changing back and forth towards blue.  Inside, now.  If you need help, I’ll be right out, Tobias.”

“No, I can manage, Mrs. King.”

“And so can I!”  Her entire Chee strength was holding me up.

She continued smiling.  “You have to demorph.  You’re just adding stress to your body.  Come on.  Do not make me hoist you over my shoulder.”

It is very hard to keep your dignity with a statement like that, or knowing it could come to pass, that it wasn’t some idle threat.

It’s even worse when you end up buckling over from a human gag reflex and end up getting fluids at their feet.

 ****

“Andalites have very interesting stories,” Erek commented, and I took a moment to comprehend he was speaking, what he was saying.  He had arrived some hours ago, relieving his mother.  Erek, to the outside world, would also fall victim to this flu.

‹Yes, I suppose we do.  I hope I am telling them right.›  I shifted and tried to get comfortable, but my body was hot and tense.  ‹Aximili is not helping very much.›

“I did wonder about the walking tree.”

‹He was confused, and he confused me.  He’s always done so with his _Gellnaps_.›  I looked fondly my brother, finally asleep.  ‹Our parents commented on it frequently in their letters.›  I moved again and closed my main eyes, trying to seek an inner balance, to let my eyes converge.  Otherwise I had a feeling I was going to topple sideways as my inner eyes tried to tell me I was simultaneously upside-down and sideways.

“Do you need something, Prince Elfangor?” the Chee asked after what may have been a long time.

‹I am fine.›  Perhaps a lie.  I opened my eyes carefully and was relieved that things were as they should be.  ‹Do you require anything?  I feel I am being an improper host.› I attempted to smile.

Erek laughed.  “I’ve got all the entertainment I need here.”

‹It was very cruel to teach Aximili that game,› I scolded.  ‹I feel like you were cheating, though I can’t figure out how.  Do you often take advantage of invalids?›

“I used to give food out to starving people in the twenties and have tended to those in accidents,” he offered, “but I have never worked in a hospital setting.”

‹It shows.  Tell me, why is a raven like a writing desk?›

“Excuse me?”

‹It is a human riddle.  A human once asked me it, and he never told me the answer.›

Erek shrugged.  “Technically, there is no answer.”

‹Ah, that would explain why he asked it.›

“People have thought up answers, though.  Like, they both have inky quills or the notes they are noted for aren’t noted for being musical.  And there is the pun Lewis Carroll himself created.”

I made a small noise to give the impression I was attending, but I wasn’t.  My mind was wandering.  ‹I marvel that you trust me.›

“Excuse me, Prince Elfangor?”

I flopped my tail.  ‹If I were you, I doubt I would trust me.  You Chee would be a great advantage in this war.›

“We are pacifists.  We do not fight.”

I gave a little laugh and dragged the tip of my blade across the cement, making a small gouge.  ‹Oh, you fight.  You merely do not shed blood.  But there is little difference, in the end.  The dead are dead.›

“You are mistaken.”

‹No, I think not.  Inaction is action.  The Chee, I suppose, are slow killers, leaving Time and others to do the dirty work.  It is a marvelous method.  I envy them.  But it does not make them pacifistic.›

“I’m insulted.  We are programmed not to allow harm.  Isn’t that the definition of pacifist?”

I struggled to think.  ‹A pacifist seeks peace.  Or avoids violence.  Which definition are we applying?  If asked, would not a Chee not kill one to save a thousand?  They would save the one while a thousand die.  A flaw in the logic.  And would not the Chee have killed the thousand, in any case?  Perhaps not by hand, but by action … inaction.  Every action has a reaction.  Anything that can comprehend a choice cannot be a pacifist when they merely avoid violence.  And I believe the walls are melting.›  I alternated closing my eyes, checking.  ‹Oh, no, my mistake.›

“I suppose you are right, in a sense.  And how would you take advantage of us?”

‹Hmm?›  I was getting confused.

“How would you use the Chee in this war?”

‹Why would I wish to use the Chee?›

“You said you would not trust yourself, if you were a Chee.”

I waved my hand, dismissive.  His argument was foolish.  After all, he couldn’t know how I would act if I was a Chee.  ‹I would not trust anyone in the midst of a hopeless war.  It would only ask for trouble.  Friendship is a fools’ game in war.  Many only want to survive and damn the rest.  Fighting for causes is merely propaganda, in the end.›

“Then why do you fight?”

‹Someone must.  Someone must defend and protect.›

“Is that not a cause?”

‹War is all I know.  I will not fit into society when and if this ends.  I am not a very good Andalite, after all.  I have done too much to be so.›

“I think you undervalue yourself, Prince Elfangor.”

‹If I was good, I would never have given humans such technology.  And I certainly have fought more, instead of hiding.  I will be lucky to keep my tail when I face the High Command.  And I do like my tail, quite a bit.›

“I would think so.”

‹I don’t want them to chop it off.›

“Neither would I.  Prince Elfangor, are you a danger to the Chee?”

I frowned, wondering why we were discussing foolish things like the Chee when my tail was far more important, and I tried to think.  ‹I would like to believe I am not, but how can I be sure?  Because I have not betrayed their trust yet does not mean I won’t.  I do hope I won’t.  But in this war, I cannot be sure of anything, least of all myself.  And I cannot let harm come to the children.›

“How would you use the Chee?”

‹It is a puzzler, isn’t it?›  I smiled.  ‹How can you determine your actions when you cannot comprehend doing such a thing?  I suppose for now I will ask them to seek out intelligence.  It is all they are good for, aside from hiding and surviving.  And opening pickle jars.  That is a very important trait.›

“I agree.”  There was a pause.  “Prince Elfangor, what are you staring at?”

‹The swirling whirlpool.  I think my basement is developing a gravitational eddy.  Very structurally unsound.›

“You’re right.  Perhaps you should lie down.  It would be safer.”

‹Than what?›

I felt cool hands on my fur, and I turned my attention to the being that was suddenly hovering over me.  “I believe your temperature has risen.  You are getting delirious.”

‹Is that some sort of dessert?  I like desserts.›

  ****

There is nothing more terrifying than being delirious.  At least to me.  On Andalite ships I diplomatically demanded that I would be unconscious for as much of my illnesses as was possible.  I did not need to see what my fevered mind would produce, what it would relive and remember.  I wanted to rest when I was ill.  I didn’t have time for it when I was healthy, so I planned to take it when I could.

This was not a luxury open to me, of course.  All of the children, save Cassie, were now ill, Matilda as well.  Erek the Chee was watching my brother and me, and hopefully he would perform the surgery should the time come.  I could get no straight promise from him, at least not so that I understood in my current state.  Perhaps he had agreed or perhaps he hadn’t.  I cannot quite make sense.

I couldn’t understand much of what Erek said, if he spoke.  I’m sure he did, if only because I very likely spoke.  No doubt my thoughts escaped faster than my ability to stop them.  The memories did, things I hadn’t thought to remember in years.  My childhood.  My parents.  Communicating with Hala Fala.  The first female I had run with.  The first time I saw Aximili, ran with him, the poor little quiet thing that he was back then.  The first time I flew.  Finishing the Academy.  Being named Prince.  Old comrades lost in battle, dead from orders I gave.  Their bodies.  I was probably sobbing, apologizing, begging for forgiveness I didn’t deserve.  Why had I ever wished to become a warrior?  What a naïve fool I was!

The missions, the blood, the bodies.  All in the vivid clarity and grotesque form of a dream, of reality.

And then as my sight, reason, and sense of balance started to fail me, as my memory brought forth the numerous morphs I had been in and I could only see and feel myself in them.

And of course I thought of the _Time Matrix_ , of that mission.  Of that time.  Remembering Arbron, the horror of him being Taxxon forever.  Of almost killing him.  Sometimes I dreamed I had, that my shot hadn’t missed him.  That he died right in front of me, coating me with his internal organs. 

So much about that mission went wrong.  Alloran, Arbron, Chapman, Loren. Me.  Failed, failed.  Of being human, trapped, helpless, oh why had I done it!  Why, why, why?  Coward, failure, fool!  Stupid fool …

And to leave?  Why?  Cursed Ellimist.  What good have I done?  What good?  What good?

I remember swimming in such thoughts, drowning in them, being scared and terrified and exhilarated and happy and angry and proud and all the other emotions I had ever held. 

There is no worse prison than one’s one mind.  That is why I had always insisted on being completely unconscious.  But I suppose sometimes such things were deserved at points in one’s life, when one shouldn’t be allowed to hide from the truth.

No doubt Erek continued to care for me.  I knew he would, at least, keep his own counsel about what I said or did.  Sometimes I could feel his metal hands touch me, take my temperature, make me eat or drink something, stop me from thrashing and hurting myself and others, I suppose.  It was usually at these times I came to myself.

‹Aximili?›

“He is fine, Prince Elfangor.  Sleeping.  Rest, please.”

I struggled to gather my thoughts and senses to make sense that Erek seemed to have three heads and six arms.  My eyes would not converge on their sights.  I had always hated that, especially as a child.  I was prone to having my stalk and main eyes misalign when ill, a trait that fell from my maternal grandmother, rare and sickening and led to many scraped knees and running into stationary objects.  To add to my current state, my ears heard words that were fuzzy.  But I had to ask.  ‹Gland?›

“It’s been removed.  Ax is fine, Elfangor.”

“It’s you we’re worried about now.  Please rest.”

“Rest.”

Was that two voices, or three, or one?  Had some length of time passed between each statement?  I couldn’t tell.  The sounds were garbled in fluid and my eyes still wouldn’t work right.  It really didn’t matter because I was already being drawn back down.  I fell, fell onto a soft pillow, and dimly I felt Erek’s hand on my cheek.

And I felt my last sense leave me, as scents from my memory filled my mind.  The strongest was of strawberries.

 ****

My gland was not removed for three days.  I never did get well quickly.  The children were all healthy before I was, and I wish they hadn’t seen me in such a state.  It wasn’t right.  A Prince should not show weakness to his warriors.

Still, by the time I could say I didn’t want anyone seeing me, it was too late.  The only thing I could do was accept their well-wishes and scowl at Cassie and Matilda for treating me like a child.  Take it easy and don’t push yourself and be sure to get enough nutrients and fluids.  I was an adult, a Prince, and certainly could take care of myself.

The Yeerk Aftran had been given the morphing ability and was now a _nothlit_ , a whale.  I made a mental note to actually get the safe deposit box for the _Escafil_ device.  Not that I wished her to go through Kandrona starvation, but these children were driving me mad.

I ran through the woods, slowly rebuilding my speed and agility up.  I knew what to do after I was sick.  I kept my morphing to a minimum, as one should do. 

‹Elfangor!  There you are!› Aximili jumped through the brush and ran alongside me.

I counted to ten.  Little brothers.  ‹Hello, Aximili.  Has something occurred?›

‹No, nothing.  But you have been gone for several hours.  We were … that is, I needed to eat.›

‹Of course,› I sighed.  Aximili had regained his strength quickly, far quicker than apparently I was going to.  The benefits of youth, I suppose.

‹Loren kicked me from the kitchen.  She is making supper,› Aximili said after we had run for several minutes.

‹Ah.›

‹Yes.  The humans are staying over.  To speak about Yeerk activities.›

‹Of course.›

Silence.  Nothing but our hooves hitting dirt.  It would rain later in the evening.

‹I am glad you are well.›

‹As am I.›  Why could Aximili not simply run in silence?  I think the only time he had had been when he first saw me those years ago, and that had only lasted until I foolishly asked him some question about leaping the stream or other such childish nonsense I thought would put him at ease.

‹You were very ill.  Erek says you were much worse than I was.  We were all very concerned.›

‹Of course.  I just wish there had been some _Metlaini_.›

Aximili was surprised.  ‹Isn’t that dangerous?  Studies show that those who have been treated with it –›

I did not need the study.  ‹I do not care.  I wish I’d had the chance to be given it.  I have and will continue to accept the risks if it means my senses stay true.›  Many other Princes agree with me.  Doctors on battleships have long stopped telling us of the dangers, content with monitoring our dosages.  ‹If it means I can actually rest.›

My brother continued to look troubled.  No doubt he was thinking about the horror stories young cadets are told, told by the very officers who took the treatment. 

Andalites truly are hypocrites. 

‹Cassie thinks we should make a reference of other Andalite diseases.  I have tried to tell her it would be a waste of time, but she will not listen to me,› Aximili said, changing the topic. 

‹I will speak with her,› I said vaguely.  ‹No doubt she means well.›

Aximili agreed.  ‹I did not want to speak, but I … the stories were very comforting.  Did Mother or Father tell them to you as well?›  I smiled at him and he realized the foolishness of his question.  ‹Of course they did.  But, thank you.›

‹You’re welcome.  Though you obviously were far too sick to notice the bits I fudged through, or the bits you mistook when trying to assist.›

He laughed quietly.  ‹Yes, probably.  Do you remember me speaking with you?  Or the others?›  His question was intense.

‹No.  No.› And I didn’t, not past the fragments of voices that I didn’t recognize.  ‹A pity, I suppose.›

His stalks fell a bit, but Aximili said, ‹Yes, a bit.  You remember nothing?›

‹The last I can, with certainty, claim to remember is speaking to Erek about your gland being removed.  The rest, though, the delirium makes it difficult to tell between dreams and reality.  No doubt some of what I remember did happen – the children talking, standing around me, Erek moving me, being forced to eat.  Otherwise, nothing of any particular importance.  The _Metlaini_ would have come in handy.›

‹Should we head back?› Aximili asked suddenly, before I could what else had occurred, for something must have if Aximili wished me to remember something.   ‹We would not want to miss dinner.›

‹Have you not already eaten?› I asked with a teasing archness.

‹ _Elfangor_.›

 ****


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vissers are SO much trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 30

It is almost depressing that the only flying I can do is in the form of a bird.  Do not get me wrong, flying is wonderful as a bird.  However, sometimes I long for a space ship.  True, it would assist in fighting the Yeerks (up until they blew it up), but to fly in space in classic maneuvers, being one with the ship …

At the rate the Andalite fleet is taking to get here, I am never going to fly a ship again.  (Of course, once they get here, there is no promise that I will be flying afterwards, especially when the High Command gets done with me.)

I rode the thermals, paying token attention to the humans below.  The Yeerks were quiet, and I did not feel like looking for trouble on such a beautiful day.  I had watched children play in the park and an automobile accident take place, but there was little trouble.

My flight pattern circled the whole of the city.  I flew simply, but I had to get my head back when a _huge_ gust of wind came from nowhere and tumbled me.  Thankfully, I was flying alone. I do not think my pride could have withstood the children, Matilda, or Aximili seeing me falter so spectacularly. 

The wind was still strong, and I was not in the mood or morph to fight such a force of nature.  That part of the city will just have to wait.

Oh, darn, I guess I must fly some more today.

I turned my trajectory and soared, my mood still rather light.

The feeling ended quickly when I noticed machine movement in the construction site, the same where I had crashed, where I had buried the _Time Matrix_.

‹Odd,› I thought, because the construction site, for reasons unknown to me, had been abandoned.  I could not understand why the humans did not at least finish their buildings.  Not only would it be more appealing, but the value would probably go up. 

I flew low and perched on one of the scaffolding, and saw a lone human sloppily working one of those machines to dig deep holes, a backhoe I believe they are called, though I could be wrong.  I am not expert on this aspect of humanity.

For a bit, I chuckled, until it occurred to me exactly _where_ this human was digging.

I swiveled my head, checking, but I already knew.  That was where I had buried the _Time Matrix_.  Exactly.

‹You have got to be kidding me,› I muttered.   Some stupid little human probably decided to play with the abandoned expensive machinery and was going to make my life difficult by finding the ultimate pain in the hoof.

I ruffled my feathers, annoyed.  I had to do something.  In little time that machine would reach where the level where the sphere rested. 

‹What are you doing, human?› I called out.  Perhaps I could pretend to be a ghost and scare the person away.

The human froze and looked around, sneering.  “Andalite!”

This just got worse.                           

Though, now I could kill him without feeling too much remorse.

‹No.  It’s God,› I said sarcastically.

“Where are you!  Show yourself.”  I saw him finger a Dracon beam.

‹And let you shoot me?  What are you doing, Controller?›

In response, he started shooting wildly, and I moved myself behind a few of the metal beams.  If this had been a movie, he would have at least ranted his idiotic plan to me as he shot.

‹You’re wasting your time, Controller.  I’m a flea on your head.›  This lie would not work on Visser Three, another Andalite, or person who dealt with thought-speak regularly.  Such a person would recognize the implied sense of distance, but most other beings would simply think that it was normal thought-speak.

Just like this Controller, who immediately stopped firing.

‹I will allow you to continue shooting at me.  Just point the beam at your head,› I said helpfully.  Maybe he was stupid.

“This is a trick!  Where are you?”

‹Do you know how much the average Andalite weighs?  If I demorph, I would crush you.›   This was fun.  ‹Human bodies are very frail.  Now, once again, what _are_ you doing?›  I paused.  ‹And _why_ are you doing it alone?›

“Who are you?”

‹The Andalite on your head.  And who are you?›

It was clear he wanted to be obnoxious back, but the Yeerk constrained himself.  “I was Visser Four, but that was before you Andalites destroyed my campaign on Leera.”

‹Pardon me while I do not pity you.› I moved down to the ground and, behind a pile of metalware, slowly started to demorph.  ‹And I wasn’t on Leera, so you can hardly blame me there.  I only helped ruin the whole shark idea.›

My eyes weren’t nearly as good as the bird’s, and the view was less helpful, but he was sneering. 

‹Why are you digging in an abandon construction site?  Is the Yeerk Pool to expand?›

“Why are you talking with me?  Why not just kill me, grass-eater, and get it done with?”

I sighed.  ‹I have no extreme desire to kill you, but if you desire to die, it can be arranged.  Answer my question.›

“You already know.  The Pool is expanding,” he answered.

‹Right.  One Yeerk alone is responsible for digging the tunnels, in early morning daylight.  It makes perfect sense.  No wonder you lost your campaign, if you cannot at least think of a clever lie.›

“Then tell me why, oh-wise-Andalite?” the former Visser Four sneered.

I paused, wondering if to show my cards.  I carefully decided to do so, because, if anything, it might throw the Yeerk.  ‹Your sensors are picking up a strange energy reading from this location.  You are obviously trying to see what it is, as all your electronics have shown inconclusive data.  You want to redeem yourself, and are desperately hoping that what is buried here – if there is anything – is something you can use, can figure out how to use. ›

He was silent.

I wondered if he would buy another lie.  ‹What you are not aware of is that this is where an Andalite fighter was destroyed.  The energy signature is for identification on Dome ships, a relatively new experimental practice.  Once a ship is destroyed, the field is freed from confinement and scattered.  Over time, it condenses and goes towards a gravity dip or well.  If the Dome hadn’t recovered a signal when the field was scattered, it would then.›  For making it up on the spot, I think it was a very clever lie.  A few plot holes, but it would do.   ‹Eventually, the signal will reach the center of this planet, if it doesn’t degrade.   You are chasing ghosts, literally.›  Amusement colored my speak.

“You lie!” he roared, face red.  “There is something here!”

‹Yeerk, we obviously _know_ it is here, and yet we haven’t bothered to retrieve it.  Doesn’t that tell you something about its value?  The fact that I haven’t killed you for attempting to get to the source either?›

“You’re lying.  You want it for yourself.”

I scoffed.  ‹I swear to you by my tail, I want nothing to do with whatever you are allegedly digging for.  Going after it would be a waste of my time.›  I winced at the pun.

He heard my honesty and I think it made him snap.  The former Visser Four started beating against the equipment and I blinked at the colorful and creative curses, was almost worried about the ranting.

Honestly, part of me did feel sorry for him.  A very small part, understand.  Very small.

‹I’m sure you’ll be able to find a super-power weapon somewhere on this backwater planet,› I said consoling.

“You dare mock me!  Filth!  Coward!  Show yourself!”

‹We’ve been through this.›

“You’re in morph.  You have less than two hours!  You’ll have to demorph sometime.”

Except I wasn’t in morph.  ‹The basic fallacy in your logic is assuming that our scientists never worked on perfecting the morphing ability.  Just because Visser Three can only remain in morph two hours does not mean second- or third-generation warriors are impaired in such a way.›  It would be nice if our scientists actually did work on the flaws of the morphing technology, but we are in war, and their attention is not focused on science for science anymore.

The Controller grew angrier at me, at the whole situation. 

I wondered how I was going to handle this.  While the Controller appeared to believe my fabrications, it was too much to hope he wouldn’t realize the inconsistencies, or to simply doubt me and come back. 

There was no choice.  I had to dispose of this Yeerk.  Because of the _Time Matrix_ , because of the danger it presented, there was no other option.

I looked around the construction site, foolishly hoping maybe a Shredder would appear for me to kill the Yeerk with.  Of course there was no such luck.  Because of that, I had no idea as to how I was going to be able to dispose of the parasite.  He held the Dracon Beam, after all.  He was the one on the machinery that offered height to his advantage.  I had no morphs that would be helpful.

I decided, reluctantly, that I would have to be patient in getting rid of the former Visser.  I could only hope he had acquired a life on Earth and did not reside in the Pool or Blade ship, because there was no way I could reach him there.  I admit, I felt there was a good chance he at least did not live on the ship.  As a former Visser, the Yeerk would most likely wish to avoid the condensation and mockery of Visser Three. 

I watched the Controller, ignored his further attempts at conversations.  I was amused as he vigorously rubbed his hair, shaking it, and he must have been secure in my leaving.  (Of course, he could have been a bit _quicker_ in this security.  Waiting nearly an hour pushed my limits.)  The Yeerk swore quietly when he left, and I returned to my bird morph, following in the sky.

In the end, I was surprised in the residence of the Controller.  It was decrepit and run-down, infested with vermin and the yard – if it can even be called that – was over grown and covered in garbage.  Obviously, this Yeerk was not in any favor with Visser Three, and I wondered if the _Abomination_ even was aware of the former Visser’s presence on Earth. Yeerks, as a rule, did not willingly live in such conditions if it could be helped.

I watched the building before I had to leave.  I worried that during my absence the Controller would escape, but what could I do?  I had to planned, get necessary weapons.

All I could do was hope I was not making a mistake.

 ****

That night, after stopping by the construction site to see it looked the same as before, not to mention determining how much deeper the _Time Matrix_ was – a finding that alarmed me, because, if I remembered correctly, it was less than ten feet from being uncovered – I drove to the neighborhood.  I was not in my _Alan Fangor_ morph, but a new human form, someone so directly opposite that there was no possible why they could be confused. 

Unlike the children, I had few qualms about morphing a human without the donor’s permission.  It was a childish, petty concern, but I let the children draw their line in the sand and pretended to obey it.  It wasn’t as if I was causing any particular human trouble by using their form, after all, as usually I used the _Frolis Maneuver_ , and humans, if they knew what I was doing, would most likely welcome donating their DNA for such an important mission as saving Earth.

Well, I admit, I was probably stretching on that.  Humans are not Andalites, after all. 

… Of course, the typical Andalites probably would be just as troubling ….

No matter.  I pulled up in my rental car and armed myself with my gun.  True, it was not a Shredder or Dracon beam, but I must make do.  I carefully picked up the box that was to my side, checked to make sure its passenger was present – nasty little devil had tried to escape several times already – and left the car.

I hoped the Controller would not look too closely at my uniform. 

I walked up to the entrance and knocked. 

Yes, stage one of my brilliant plan to was knock on the Controller’s door, looking like a total fool in a rented costume, holding a pizza.  I hadn’t been able to think of another way to enter that would not risk me being fried by possible security measures if I was an insect, small reptile, or rodent, or getting shot at if I was anything large and powerful.  Such an idea had only occurred to me because Matilda had ordered a pizza and the delivery girl had entered the house while Matilda hunted up for either my wallet or her purse.

There was a slight risk, of course, but that was for my little friend in the box.

I knocked again and called out, “ _Domino’s_ Pizza!”  I was still taken at how high my voice was in this morph.

I could hear someone moving on the inside, various locks being undone, before the door was opened wildly.  I stumbled back, not so much part of an act and actually worried he was going to shoot me with the Dracon beam hidden not too carefully in his pocket.  “What do you want!”

“I … I’ve got your pizza, sir,” I stumbled humbly, raising the box.

“I didn’t order any pizza!”

“But sir, this is the address.  See?  _One large supreme pizza to_ –”

“I’m telling you I didn’t order anything, you stupid girl!”

I tried to cry.  If there was one thing I had learned, crying human females tend to make people lower their guard.  “I’m sorry, sir.  I … I just deliver the pizzas,” I sniffed.  “And … and I got lost on the way here, and … and …”

The former Visser sneered at me, but I looked appropriately pitiful. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“What sort of pizza is it?” he snapped.

“Supreme.  Large.”  I held out the box so he could take it.

He took it, and, according to plan, opened the box.  And his face contorted with fury.  “YOU!” he slammed the cover down, but it was too late.  The cockroach recognized its chance to flee the heat, to get away from the light.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry there’s a cockr—”

“Shut up!  Help me get that thing!” he screamed, having tossed the pizza aside.  I frowned at the waste of a good pizza.

By _get_ , I wondered if the Yeerk meant _stomp into oblivion_ or _capture alive_.  He seemed to be alternating.  In any case, I was inside, and I shut the door behind me.

When I caught up with the Controller, he was kneeling on the ground lording over the poor trapped roach under his hands.

“You filthy thing, you thought I wasn’t expecting you’d try something.”

I tried not too smirk too much.  “Are you okay, sir?  I’m _soo_ sorry about that roach.  I don’t know how –”

“Shut up!  Get me a glass or box or something.”

“I think you should just let it go,” I said calmly, drawing the gun and pointing it at him.  His back was still towards me.

“I didn’t ask for your –”  The Controller had turned to scream at me and turned silent at staring down the barrel of the gun.  “This was a trick.”

I nodded, picking up the Dracon beam.  It had fallen from his pocket during the dash to capture the cockroach.  “Of course.  You can kill it, if it will make you feel better.  He was a devil to catch.”

There was a definite crunch.  I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.  Yeerks, ever petty.

“Just in case it wasn’t a real roach,” former Visser Four said, almost in an overly sweet-tone, as he wiped his hands on his pants.

“It was,” I said deadpan.  “Though, even if it wasn’t, roaches are notoriously difficult to kill.  You could have had a pissed off Andalite demorphing and ready to kill you.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?”

“Only if you do something stupid.  You are much more valuable alive.”

The Controller gave a bitter laugh.  “I think you’ve made a mistake.”

“No.  I haven’t.”

“Do you think I would help you blue freaks?”

“You have two options.  One, you leave the host now, going into this jar.”  I held out a very small canning jar filled with water that had been uncomfortably jammed into my pants pocket.  “I will take you to a Kandrona source and you will live out the rest of your miserable life.  Or two, I shoot you, take you somewhere, and you are painfully starved out.”

The Yeerk stared at me.  “You’re going to kill me.”

“Only if you are stupid.  I told you, there are better uses for you.”

“What, swimming around in some aquarium on your hidden ships?” he demanded.

I couldn’t stop the smile.  “No.  It wouldn’t go with our décor.”

“I’d rather starve.”

“That can be arranged.”  The children, Matilda, and Aximili were going to be impossible.  I paused, examining the Controller.  “I suppose we could offer you a promise for good behavior.”

“What are you talking about?” he spat.  Despite his bravado, the Yeerk preferred neither starving nor being killed.

“I would have to speak with my superiors, but perhaps they may be persuaded to allow you become a _nothlit_.”

“And what does that mean?”

“A _nothlit_ is a being trapped in morph.  You wouldn’t be the first Yeerk we’ve allowed such a thing to happen to.”

That made his eyes widen.  “You would give me the morphing ability?”

“Temporarily, on the condition that you become a _nothlit_.  Trapped in the morph,” I explained.

The idea was appealing to the Yeerk, though perhaps not the final condition.  Then he frowned.  “I suppose you would make me turn into an insect or worm,” he spat. 

I frowned at him.  “You would have a range of options, within reason.  I doubt any of us will allow you to become an Andalite, but there are other choices.  And you can’t become something we don’t have access to.”

He was nodding to himself.  “Why are you offering me this?”

“I’ve told you, you are valuable.  As a former Visser, you contain information.  I doubt it will help the rest of the Andalite fleet, but, quite frankly, all we are concerned for here is our own tails.”

“And you think I’d willingly give you the information?”

“Only as willingly as your host gives you.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?  You haven’t proven your trustworthiness, Andalite.”

“Consider the fact that I’m offering, that I didn’t shoot you the second you went after that cockroach.”

The Controller was undecided for a moment.  “When will I get the ability?” he asked, finally.

I smiled, slightly.  “In one Earth year, or when the Yeerk threat on Earth is over.”

“So in a year.”  There was a bit of smugness in his statement.

“Be careful in your statement,” I said meanly.  “You can’t get the gift if we are dead, and if the Yeerks aren’t defeated, you’d best pick a form they can’t infest, otherwise you shall live with the cruel irony.”

That took a bit of wind from his sails.  Now, he realized, there was no promise he would get the gift, that he was condemning himself to a life without a host. 

“Do we have an accord?” I asked.

“You could give me a day to think about it?”

“The offer is only good now.  Decide.”

He glared at me.  “How _can_ I trust you?”

“I give you my word.”

“The word of an Andalite means nothing.”

“Some Andalites, perhaps, but my word is true.”

The Controller looked up at me, his eyes narrowed.  “Who are you?”

I gave a small smile.  “War-Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, at your service,” I introduced, with a mocking bow.

The Yeerk gasped.  “The _Beast_!”  For the first time, there was real fear on his face.  There is a reason for the name they call me.

“Only to my enemies.  Otherwise, I am generally rather polite.”

“Why?” the Yeerk breathed, confused.

“It’s how my parents raised me.  They’re old-fashioned.”  I knew what he meant.  I am not known to be kind to the enemy.  Generally, I am not.  However, I should point out that generally I fought Yeerks in a fighter and tail-to-tail.  Those are not times to be kind.  “Please decide.”

I think the knowledge of my identity scared that Yeerk more than when I had been a random Andalite.  He stared at me.  Then, slowly he nodded.

I tossed him the jar, which he caught awkwardly.  (I can’t throw as a human.)  When he unscrewed the cap, I sighed when he sniffed the water.

Then, just as awkwardly, he turned his head, put the jar to his ear, and slowly, I watched the Yeerk slide out.  I didn’t stop my face from contorting, and I relaxed, slightly.  I didn’t relax all the way because I wasn’t sure if the human was a Collaborator.  The question was answered quickly, because the human, in control of his body for the first time when the promise of the Yeerk’s return didn’t loom over, turned over the jar, liquid and all, and almost smashed the slug with his fist.

I hit him with the stun setting, and caught him before the Yeerk would have been crushed by the falling body.

“It would have served you right,” I said to the Yeerk, picking it up with the tips of my fingers, and retrieving the jar.  “I only saved you because of my word.  Remember that.”

I filled the jar again and screwed the cap on.  The water was off-color, but the Yeerk would just have to suffer through the contaminants.  Examining the specimen, he didn’t seem harmed, lying listless at the bottom.  No doubt he was now thinking he was stupid to have trusted me.

Returning to the human, I shook him awake.  The stun left him disoriented, but he stared at me.

“Are you all right, human?” I asked kindly.

“Where is he?” he breathed.  “Where is he?”

“He can’t harm you again, I promise,” I said, setting my hand on his shoulder.

“You should have let me kill him!” he hissed.

I nodded slightly.  “Perhaps.  But we need the information.  Petty vengeance will have to wait.”

The human didn’t seem to want to hear it, but, I think, he understood.  “Thank you.”

I smiled.  “You’re welcome.  I am Elfangor,” I reintroduced.

“John.  John Berryman,” he said shakily, and suddenly he started crying.  I let him, keeping silent and my hand on his shoulder.  It ended quickly, as I thought it would, and he wiped his eyes.  “I’m … I’m sorry for that.”  He sounded embarrassed. 

“I do understand.  Do you have somewhere to go, Mr. Berryman?”  In a way, it was a cruel question.  Most hosts had nowhere to go, because the Controllers knew they were a Controller.

“No, no.  I just … I just returned to Earth.  I don’t … there’s no one.”

I gave an encouraging smile.  “Perhaps it is a blessing, then.  You can leave and not be noticed.”

“How?  I don’t –”  He was silenced when I withdrew an envelope from my back pocket.  It had always been my hope that the human would be freed, so I came prepared.

“It is a key to a safety deposit box.  There is $500,000, all the necessary paperwork for the alias of Henry Agincourt.  Don’t worry, we have others.”  _Or at least_ , I amended to myself, _we can get others_.

He looked at me, surprised.  “Why … why would you …”

“Loose ends cause troubles.”  I looked at him.  “Tell me, what did the Yeerk think he was digging for this afternoon?”

John Berryman looked hopeless.  “I don’t really know.  He found a comparison to the signal to something that found over 20 years ago, which some Andalites wanted.  He didn’t _know_ what it was.  All he knew was three Andalites tried to get it, and they went to the Taxxon homeworld to do so.  He just thought –”

“Where did he find these records?” I demanded. “This is important!”

“They were in the Yeerk database.  Why?  Is something buried there?”

“Yes.  Dirt.  And ghosts of the past.  Do not think about it.”

“You’ll kill me if I do?” he said seriously, and I knew John understood.  There _was_ something there.

“Yes, I will.”

For a moment, he was unsure, then he nodded.  “He was a crazy, ever since he lost his status.”

“There are very few sane Yeerks,” I said.  “Tell me where this file was, or whatever you can recall.”

He did so, and I committed it to memory.  “Are you really going to give him the ability to morph?” he asked.

“I did give him my word.”

“He doesn’t deserve it.”

“But I deserve to keep it.”

John didn’t have anything to say to that.  Suddenly, he started chuckling.

“What is so humorous?”

“My new name.”

I thought about the name.  Henry Agincourt.  I didn’t find it humorous, but, then again, I’m not human, and they have strange ideas of humor.  “I don’t understand.”

“Henry Agincourt.  When I was infested, to annoy …him, I used to recite a play.  I was an actor, before.”

“You’ll have to forgive me.  My I’m-from-another-planet is showing.”

The human grinned.  “Shakespeare’s _Henry V_.”

“I’ve heard of that, I think.”  Yes.  I read that, years ago in dramatic literature, and I was good at human history, if only because Aximili had reviewed it and deemed it necessary to talk about such a past.  “The Crispin’s Day speech, correct?”

His eyes widened.  “I’m impressed.  I was King Henry.”

“Who battled at Agincourt, where he gave the infamous speech.”

“Exactly.”  He stood, poised, “‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he to-day that sheds his blood with me, shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition: and gentlemen in England now a-bed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.’”  He grinned at me, and it would have been unkind of me to not admit he was a decent orator.

“I like that.  Come, we should leave.  I have things to do.”

I led him out to the car, tossing him the keys.  “You can drive.  Oh, sorry, I’m not much of a thrower,” I apologized as John picked the keys up.

“Don’t worry about it.  Let’s just hope I don’t crash us.” 

I chuckled.  “If you could just drive me someplace.  You can keep the car, though you do have to return it to the airport.  It’s a rental.  The necessary paperwork is in the glove compartment.”

“All right.”

We drove in silence except for me giving directions until we reached where I asked to be left off.

“Hey, Prince Elfangor,” he said as I stepped out of the door.  “I know you don’t need to hear it, probably hear it all the time, but … thank you.  Thank you.”

“You’re wrong.  I do need to hear it.  I don’t hear it nearly often enough.  Be safe, Mr. Agincourt.”

“You too, and if you need any help, I’ll be more than willing.”

“Be careful, we might take you us on that,” I warned, with a smile.  “Have a good evening.”

I stood and watched him drive away.  Belatedly, I thought I should have given him some money to get a room for the night, but I tossed that aside.  I had given him half a million dollars. 

I started walking to the King residence.  Hopefully they wouldn’t be annoying, stubborn, and demand explanations.  I felt confident they would at least not allow the Yeerk to die.

At the door, I knocked and waited.  Mr. King soon opened the door and took in my appearance.  “Can I help you?”

“Hello, Mr. King.  It’s Elfangor.  May I come in and speak on an urgent manner with you and your son?”

For a second, he registered surprise.  I commonly did not morph other human forms.  “Of course.”

The King family was assembled, and I wasted little time, setting the Yeerk in a jar down.  They stared at it, then at me.  “He’s a former Visser and now a prisoner of war.  I would be indebted if a Chee could assist in keeping him alive.”

“Of course, Prince Elfangor,” Mrs. King said instantly, taking the jar into her hands and cuddling it like a child.  I kept my face perfectly neutral.

“Thank you.  I would appreciate if you could give me any sort of information you can gleam from him, but I will understand, reluctantly, if you don’t.  However, there is one other business I need your help with.”

Erek looked at me, willing, while his parents met each others’ gaze.

“I need you to delete some files in the Yeerk database.”

“What are they about?” Erek asked.

“They are energy readings the Yeerk discovered.  I need those records as well as the comparison readings he was using that were made over twenty years ago.  I can give you details about the file, but he would know the specifics.”  I nodded at the Yeerk.

“Why are these files so important?”

“I can’t tell you that.  But I swear to you no one will be harmed.  Deleting these records will save lives.”

“How?”

“I can’t tell you.”  While the Chee were pacifists, I couldn’t trust them with the _Time Matrix_ anymore than I could trust humans, Andalites, or Yeerks.  To their mind, they may think going back in time to stop wars would save lives. (Though how they could intend to do that, with their programming of nonviolence, eluded me.) Yes, they were pacifists, but they weren’t entirely inactivists.

They stared at me.  They were unwilling to do the deed, not on my word.  I knew I had to give them something.

“The readings are the record of a weapon.  In Andalite stories, it’s known as the Ultimate Weapon.  And it is.  It’s dangerous beyond imagine.  If someone uses it, whether or not they _think_ they know how, they will put millions of lives in danger.

“I know you don’t trust me, probably don’t even like me.  But … this weapon, it can’t be allowed to be used, ever.”

I admit it, I used my Andalite abilities and poured every bit of honesty, integrity, pleading, and need mentally.  The Chee are not completely immune to it.

I waited, hopeful.

“We believe you, Prince Elfangor,” Erek said finally.  I sighed gratefully.

“And we do like you,” Mr. King added.

“You just don’t trust me,” I smiled, not insulted.  “I do understand.  But please, do it quickly.  When they notice the Yeerk missing, they might try and see what he was doing previously.  The last thing we need is Visser Three getting his hands on it again.”

“Again?” Erek caught, and I winced at the slip.

“Please, don’t ask me to give details.”

Erek nodded.  “Very well, Elfangor.  I will take care of it and let you know when it is finished.”

“Thank you.”  I stood.  “I don’t need to ask you this, but take care of him.  I gave my word that in a year I’d give him the ability to be a _nothlit_.”

The Chee were surprised at my admission.  I subconsciously winced.  If the Chee thought so ill of me, I wondered how I did appear.

“If I forget, do remind me.  The world will most likely be in danger again. May I use your bathroom to demorph?”  This was going to be a long night.  I still had to go to the construction site.

They nodded and I changed over, stripping and putting the weapons on the counter.  They looked odd next to the hair and tooth brushes.

After a few minutes to relax, plan, I morphed back to the female.  Then I sighed.  The construction site was not near.  Perhaps I could borrow a bike.

Wait.  I didn’t know how to ride one.  (I’m sure I could figure it out!  It doesn’t look hard!)

I left the bathroom.  The King family hadn’t moved, though they seemed to have conversed in my absence.  At my appearance, they sat quietly, staring at me.

“I thank you for listening to me on such short notice.  And for taking care of the Yeerk.  I should have sought your approval on that first, but there was no time.”

“We are glad you thought of us as a solution at all,” Mrs. King stated.

I smiled thinly.  “I’ll take my leave of you.  I have a walk ahead of me, cleaning up the Yeerk’s tracks.”

Mr. King stood.  “Please, allow me to give you a ride.”

I stared at him, then decided to accept.  “Thank you.  A ride to the mall would help.”

 ****

I stared at the hole.  Or, more apt, where the hole should have been.

“What the _bettop_?” I swore, walking around the area.  It looked like the ground hadn’t even been bothered today.

Great, knowing _my_ luck, someone probably found it, then filled the hole up!

Chuckling filled the air, and I whirled, Dracon beam drawn.

“Always a pessimist, Elfangor.”  And then he appeared.

“ _You_ ,” I spat.  I was tempted to fire the beam, but what was the point?  It wouldn’t kill the meddler.  “It was you the whole time.”

The Ellimist, looking the same he had those on all our previous meetings, made no motion except to smile serenely.

“You brought me here, with that wind,” I continued.  “Covered the hole.  Why did you need me?”

“We don’t interfere.”

“What do you call this?” I snapped, indicating the absent hole.

He smiled.  “Assisting.”

“Why don’t you just _assist_ and move it where no one can get it?”

“You would have filled the hole.  We helped you there.  We cannot place the _Time Matrix_ somewhere you cannot go.”

“Bull.  You can, you just _won’t_.  There’s a difference.”

The Ellimist continued to smile in that insufferable way. 

I sneered and waved my hand.  “I’m going home.”

“And where is that, Prince Elfangor?”

My head snapped over my shoulder, but he was gone.  Smarmy bastard.  He could have at least _assisted_ me on the way home.

I deliberately did not answer his question, even to myself.

 ****

“ – on, Loren!” I heard Marco protest as I stepped inside the house with my brother.  “Elfangor won’t even care about that when I tell him –”

“Care about what?” I asked.

“Marco skipped school this morning,” Matilda answered, arms crossed, before the boy could spin his tale.

I frowned at him.  “Marco –”

He interrupted me.  “Elfangor!  I saw my mo—I mean, Visser One!  She’s back here, on Earth!”

Without missing a beat, though the information was important, I said, “And that is no excuse for cutting class.”

Marco blinked at me and very nearly protested my statement, but Jake said, “Man, just give it up.  You knew you were going to get it.”

“You were lucky Mr. Chapman didn’t call your father!” Matilda scolded.

The boy slumped into the couch.  “I liked it better when it was just Elfangor that did all the yelling.”

“At least we know she’s here on Earth again,” Tobias pointed out, changing the source of attention off of Marco. 

“Yeah.  We could take her down.”  Once the words were out of her mouth, Rachel winced and gave a quick look at Marco.

But Marco didn’t appear hurt, hiding the emotion well with a sudden fervor.  “Exactly.  Maybe we could even take out both of them, Visser One and Three.”

“Marco,” Cassie said softly.

“Come on, you thought it too.  I know you did,” he accused me, ignoring her.  “Vissers hate each other, you said that.  They’ll go at each other.  You know it.  We just have to push them.”

I rubbed my forehead.  He made it sound so easy, when it really wasn’t.  “Marco, it doesn’t work like that.  Unless there is some mark on her, Visser Three will not attack her directly.”

“Then why was she in disguise?  There has to be something!”

“Visser Three saw us when we were at Royan Island, saw us let her live,” Aximili pointed out.  “Perhaps he thinks we are allies, that she is a traitor.”

“Yeah, or maybe she’s checking out Visser Three.  I mean, we’re a serious blot on his record,” Jake said, trying to help his friend.  “She could be trying to make him look bad.”

“There are too many maybes,” I said.  “We have to learn why she is here.  Then, and _only_ then, can we make a plan, if we can.”

“I know where she is!  I followed her, she’s staying in the Sutherland Tower, on the twenty-second floor.  We go in, spy, learn everything, and get this big plan to fr—destroy her.  Easy.”

We all knew it wouldn’t be so.  I looked at Marco and spoke privately, ‹Marco, _can_ you do this?›

“I didn’t give us away last time,” he spat.  “You _know_ I can do this.”

I had no such evidence.  His last meeting with Visser One – while I had seen he would not easily divulge our identities – had shown me he could not continue in the ultimate way.  When push came to shove, he faltered.  I kept my eyes focused on him, letting him know my opinion.  Marco may be ruthless, may be able to see the most direct path, but he was not a cold-blooded killer, not yet.  Visser One’s host … she made him falter, made him human.  “Aximili and I will go tonight.”

“You don’t even know which room she’s in!  And how are you even going to get in!  You can’t do bugs!  How are you going to sneak in and do _anything_?”

My eyes narrowed at his presumption.  Just because I could not use such a small form did not mean I was useless.  “If she is hiding in that office, do you _think_ Visser One would make it easy for an insect to enter?  She who would have to fear us _and_ Visser Three?  He knows she’s on Earth, whatever her purpose, make no mistake on that.  He knows.”

“Marco,” Matilda said interrupted, stepping forward and setting her hand on his shoulder.  “I’ve listened to what they said about Visser One.  She’s smart, and the way you are, I’m sure your mom is too.  The last time you faced her, there were only two Andalites.  Visser Three refuses to think we could be human, because he’s _in_ an Andalite, with all the Andalite arrogance and vanity and pigheadedness.  Visser One, she’s in a human.  Do you think she won’t maybe wonder if we’re all in morph, why there aren’t more Andalites around? Why Andalites would constantly demean themselves by fighting in inferior forms?”  She gave a lopsided smile towards my brother and me, to take the sting out of her words.

I wished I had thought of that argument.  It might have saved some trouble.

“But –”

Or not.

“Go to Erek and ask the Chee what they know.  There should be some news about Visser One, be it good or bad,” I ordered.  “And we will tell you everything.  Tomorrow morning.”

Marco’s fists were clenched.  He didn’t like it, but it was all I was going to offer him and he knew it.  And he knew, if the moment presented itself, I would show no hesitation in removing Visser One’s – and hence his mother’s – head from her shoulders.  Perhaps he envied me the ability, or maybe he hated me for it.  I knew I did.

 ****

Aximili and I arrived late, or on time, as the case may be.  Visser One was under attack from Hork-Bajir.

‹It appears she is here,› I said, watching the skirmish from the broken window.  Visser One was hopelessly out-matched.  There were helicopters on the roof, from when the Hork-Bajir came, and the doorway from the roof was decimated.

‹What should we do, Elfangor?› Aximili asked me nervously.

‹Should we do something?› I countered, more rhetorical than not.  ‹If they destroy Visser One, it will be to our benefit.  Though,› I continued, catching the updraft and curving with the building, ‹I could never forgive myself if I gave Visser Three the opportunity for advancement.›

‹So we will help save her?›  His tone was uncertain, like he was unsure in his approval.

‹Our actions will at least make Visser Three believe her to be a traitor.  We don’t have much time to help her, though.  Be careful,› I reminded as I dove to the door, down to the twenty-second landing as my brother followed.  ‹She will still have a Dracon beam and even though we are coming to her aid, I doubt she will hesitate to use it on us.› 

‹She is a Yeerk,› Aximili agreed, sniffing as he landed and started to demorph.  The battle was still going on down the hall.

I grinned when we were whole and tapped his blade.  ‹Let’s do this.›

Aximili shook his head.  ‹You spend so much time with the humans, Elfangor, and cannot even get it right.›

The Hork-Bajir in the rear weren’t expecting us, and our appearance startled everyone.  Then it became an almost three-way fight, for, as I warned Aximili, Visser One did turn her attentions to us.  There was a moment when I feared Aximili would be hit by the ingrate, but my brother had sense enough to disarm her.  With the two of us present, both fighting very well – my brother, under my tutelage, I am proud to say will be one of the greatest tail fighters in Andalite history – it was not long before the Hork-Bajir cut their loses and fled back to their helicopters.  Over half of them would not be returning to report on this assassination attempt.

I looked down at Visser One, gasping on the floor.  Though she had fought well prior to our arrival, she was not unharmed.  From her arms and face blood trickled, and she was curled to her side, favoring it.  Perhaps she had been grazed by a Dracon beam.  But even with all her injuries, gasping for breath, she sneered up at me.  “What are you waiting for?  Kill me, you arrogant Andalite filth.”

‹What honor is there in killing an enemy already defeated, Visser One?  Then again, what do Yeerks know of honor?›

Her laugh was high and cruel.  “Andalite honor!  There is no such thing,” she scoffed. 

Aximili glared at her.  ‹Without us, you would be dead,› he snapped.

“I am dead either way!  Thanks to your interference, Visser Three will have proof he’s been making up and claim me a traitor.  The Council has already a _gashad_ , a warrant to kill me on sight.”  She attempted to stand but was still too weak.

‹Do you expect us to pity you?› I asked. 

“Andalites can’t feel pity for anyone else but themselves.”

Ignoring the barb and watching the blood flow from her wounds, gauging to see if they were truly life-threatening, I asked, ‹If there is a warrant on your head, why would you risk coming to Earth, to where Visser Three would waste hundreds of troops into finding you?›

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

‹It is why I asked.›

Her eyes were narrowed, examining me.  “Why do you care?”

‹Your presence distracts Visser Three’s from us, annoys him.  We both know he is stupid and careless, but being so reckless to send Hork-Bajir by helicopter to kill you?  He’s worried and is trying to stop you.›  I shrugged.  ‹Or he really hates you.›

Again she laughed.  “You’re right.  He is a fool and was only elevated because he managed to get that carcass as a host.”

My expression turned cold.  ‹Indeed.›

‹If you are here to discredit Visser Three, to get the Council to put a _gashad_ on his head, yours would be more secure,› my brother pointed out.  And he looked at me.  ‹We cannot stay here much longer, Elfangor.  Visser Three will send reinforcements to finish the job.›

“Elfangor?” Visser One demanded, eyes glistening with the knowledge and focused on me.  “Not the _great_ Beast Elfangor?”  Her voice was mocking.  “A great coward is all I see.”

I smiled and gave a chuckle, amused, which made her expression turn to one of surprise.  Going to the curtains, I cut a strip and tossed it to her.  ‹Bandage yourself.  And I suggest you hurry with your mission to discredit Visser Three.›  Very casually, I picked up a Dracon beam from one of the Hork-Bajir corpses, and then shot out a large suitcase, a portable Kandrona.  ‹Because even though I wish you all the luck in that, it is not enough to wish you to live.›

“You could help me!  You hate him as much as I do.”  Her gaze was on the Dracon beam in my hand. 

‹And what could we do?› Aximili asked.

“The free Hork-Bajir.  You know where they are.”

‹Yes,› I said simply, throwing the beam and cutting it in half with a flick of my blade.  ‹We grow them in a little garden.  They just appear under a cabbage leaf, is that how the humans say it?›

She ignored me.  “They’re one of his greatest failures.  Give me the Hork-Bajir, and I’ll give you Visser Three.”

It took me but a moment to reply.  ‹No.›

My answer surprised her. 

‹I give you the Hork-Bajir, you are improved in the eyes of the Council.  You may return to Earth to clean up Visser Three’s mess.›

“You fear me.”  There was surprise and, dare I say, pride in her voice.

‹I fear no Yeerk.  But Visser Three is stupid.  You, unfortunately, are not.›  I peered at her.  ‹Most inconvenient, as you learned about the free Hork-Bajir.  Or is it common knowledge outside of Earth?›

“Any Yeerk with any shred of intelligence knows.  The Council only needs the proof.  When I find the Hork-Bajir, my sensors will give me everything I need.”

‹And then you will clean up after Visser Three.›

“As usual.”  Her dark eyes were still following me.  She was probably thrown off-balance, having expected me to betray the Hork-Bajir if it meant being rid of Visser Three.  Perhaps another might, but I could see no benefit to allying with her at the expense of a momentary betrayal.  “Give me the Hork-Bajir.  They’re worthless to you.”

‹Worthless?  Surely if the Great Visser One cannot find the existence of them and it leads to her demise, there is some worth there.  And you won’t find them. Or at least not all of them.  There are pockets of them extending past this state, some hidden in caves, others under Andalite holograms.  They breed, as you know, like Earth rodents.›

Her expression hardened, but there was a question on her face.  She was probably trying to determine if the alleged Andalite arrogance and superiority would have made me relate sensitive information like that.  That was the point.  If she thought we were using holograms, even advanced Andalite technology would give off some sort of energy signature for her to search for.  If she thought there were several locations, it was more likely she might split her resources to try and find at least one. 

‹I suggest you keep an eye on the skies, Visser One.  We’ll be watching.  As will Visser Three.›  With a signal, Aximili and I dashed back to our rooftop escape.  ‹To owls.  And let’s see what’s next.›

‹She will be watching for us.›  Even with his protest, he followed my commands.

‹Yes, she will.  And we will be watching her.  Just watching. ›  I wanted to see if she’d leave by wounded foot or if a ship would come to her aid.  Vissers, even ones with death warrants on their heads, did not travel without ships.  It was only a question of whether or not it was a Blade ship or some smaller type.  I wondered how Visser Three’s ships could _not_ be in conflict with hers.  Surely a Blade ship could sense the cloaking of another.

Then again, that would imply there was a level of trust between Vissers.

We flew to the next building and perched.  ‹Marco will demand we tell him everything.›

‹I know.›

Aximili was quiet for long moment, and my eyes were intent on the entrance.  She would have to leave soon.  Visser Three would be sending more troops.

‹We should not have let her live,› he said quietly.

‹We should not kill her without good reason, either.  With her death, there will be a vacuum in the hierarchy in Yeerk leadership.›

‹She is trying to find the Hork-Bajir Valley.  It is a dangerous risk we are taking to allow her to continue.›

‹I will warn Toby Hamee and discuss it with her.  If she feels added security is necessary, we can ask a Chee to temporarily extend a hologram over the valley.›  I dared to take my eyes away.  ‹You are thinking like one who knows the answer, Aximili.  You can only focus on where they are.  She doesn’t have that advantage.   She doesn’t _know_ where the Valley is, she has no idea where to start looking.  All she knows is there is _miles_ of woods, of caves and canyons, possibly leaving this state.  Added to that, she is pressed for time and must avoid Visser Three.

‹Yes, leaving her alive is a risk to the Hork-Bajir.  But it is no more risk than Visser Three.  I do not doubt he continues his own search even as he vehemently denies the existence of them.›

‹That is true,› Aximili agreed, but his tone was still hesitant. 

I would have spoke again, but in the sky in front of me the air shimmered, and there, next to the broken window Visser One stood, stepped, and disappeared.  The shimmering disappeared in a flash of wind.

‹It appears she has her own ship.›

‹And her own loyal followers.›  That was more interesting, because if it was a large number, that would pose a problem, should problems arise.  I opened my wings.  ‹Fly low and into trees.›  There was no promise we were beyond surveillance of them.  ‹You go may return back to the house.  I sure Marco will be there, despite my words.  I’ll fly to the Valley and converse with Toby Hamee.›

‹Elfangor,› my brother said as we dove and let the wind lift us.  ‹If Visser One cannot prove the existence of the free Hork-Bajir, she will still have the _gashad_ on her head.  Eventually she will be executed and Visser Three will have his chance at advancement.›

‹Possibly.  But Visser One, if I can read anything about her, will figure out another way to save her skin.›

‹Unless she does find the Hork-Bajir.›

I would have given Aximili a look had I been able to spare an eye.  ‹Yes, unless that.›

 ****

“You could have rescued her,” Matilda said, folding a dish cloth.  “Then.”

I looked over to her from my own folding.  “Perhaps.”

“No, you _could have_.  You had her and you let her go.  That’s Marco’s mom.”

“I know that.  And it is also Visser One. 

“Fold it so you can see what’s on the shirt.”

“It’s a plain shirt.  There’s nothing on it.”

She gave me that look before continuing to talk.  “You could have killed her or taken her hostage.  You let her go and put the Hork-Bajir in danger.”

“The Hork-Bajir have _always_ been in danger.  And how do you suggest you would have saved her, since you certainly wouldn’t let us kill her?”

Matilda answered fast, showing she had thought about it.  “You could have knocked her out and dragged her away.  Stolen a car or something.  But you didn’t!”

I sighed.  “No.  No, I didn’t.  Because it isn’t that easy.  A captive Visser is a captive Visser, even one with a death sentence.  Do you realize the danger we would have been in?  The Yeerks would have thought we’d have tortured her for information.  Even once free Marco’s mother would not have been safe, because she would also know Visser One’s secrets.  Do you _want_ Controllers sent from the Council hunting for us, ones that Visser Three will have no permission to kill, who will not _stop_ until either we do or we make them?”

“Oh.”  She looked away, fiddled with the clothing.   “I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t expect you to.  I don’t even expect my brother to, because he is unfamiliar with Yeerk policies.   To save ourselves, I would have had to kill her then.  The risks … it made it unacceptable.”

“And you didn’t want to face Marco and tell him you killed him mom.”

One of the shirts definitely needed to be ironed and I tossed it to the side.  “I would have, if I had to.  But it didn’t turn out that way.  Thankfully.”

“Yes.  For more reasons than one.  But I still think … she should have been rescued.”

“You’re feeling sorry for her, and for Marco, and it’s clouding your judgment.”  I did not say it meanly, but just matter-of-fact.

Matilda said, “Maybe.”  She set her hands on the top of her stack of clothes, smoothing the wrinkles.  “What are we going to do about her?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“The only reason for us to be involved is if she actually discovers the Hork-Bajir valley.  With the Chee staying there until her departure, there is only a small chance.  Perhaps only ten-percent.”

“But it could be possible.  By waiting, we might be too late.”

I had to admit the truth.  “Yes.  And Toby Hamee is aware of that.  She will keep guards on the look-out.”

“Gafinilan?”

“And Mertil,” I added.  “They will give a warning and keep watch.”

“They’ll like that,” Matilda smiled, amused.  She gathered the piles of folded clothes and started to leave.

Gathering my own bundle, I followed.  “What does that mean?”

“Andalites.  You know how they are.”

“No.  No, I don’t.  How are they?”

She stuck her tongue out and we had to part company, as I had Tobias’s and Aximili’s clothing and she had her own.

 ****


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 33

Perhaps my Andalite heritage was showing too strongly, but once Jake returned home from his great-grandfather’s funeral, I made a point to invite him for a dinner.  It was not exactly Andalite culture, as we did not have dinners like humans, but it was the best I could think of.  The other children migrated as well.  I should have involved the rest of Jake’s family, under proper respect, but it would not have been the best plan considering the usual turn of conversation.  I could only hope the floral arrangement I sent was enough to send my condolences to the loss of the elder.  Was it enough for the memory of a human warrior?  I had received a thank-you card from Jake’s mother, but she may have only been being polite.  Sometimes, these aspects of human culture left me floundering.  I had not attended any funerals for the family of my friends.

In any case, the meal was ready and being set out on the table.  Matilda had been polite and asked Jake how Tom fared, as the Controller had been the tragic victim of a hit-and-run from a stolen vehicle, suffering a broken leg and a concussion. Before one could dare suggest, _I_ was not the guilty party here, though I did think of the idea.  Only Matilda knew the truth, as it was better if the others could react naturally.  Besides, Gafinilan still wished his privacy.  I could have perhaps done the deed, but it was better that he did it.  Gafinilan did not have to worry about facing Jake the next day and giving himself away.  

It had been necessary, though.  Jake having a brother who was a Controller was an acceptable risk; having a parent, it was not.

As everyone settled around the table, Jake telling about what he had learned about his Grandpa G., the medals and honors, Matilda and I handed the dishes to them, and they set them where the food fit.  We were just finished when Cassie stood up and asked something to Matilda.  Being on the opposite side of the table, I did not hear.  My brother, nearer, remedied that.

“A pad of what?” Aximili asked both blithely and loudly

The silence was instantaneous and, I’ll admit, even I froze holding the bowl of mash potatoes.  Cassie looked beyond mortified, her eyes wide.  The boys looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Ow!  Rachel, you kicked me!” Aximili exclaimed, sounding affronted.

“Did I?” she said with an angry sweetness.  “All I did was –”

Aximili gave another yelp of pain. 

“That’s enough,” I said, setting the potatoes down right between the two of them before taking my seat. 

“Come on, Cassie, I’ll show you,” Matilda said consolingly, guiding the likely traumatized girl away.

“Ax, I can’t believe you asked that!” Marco hissed, humor mixing with his horror. 

Aximili sat looking utterly confused.  “Asked what?”

“That!” Jake exclaimed.  He seemed almost as red as Cassie had been.

“But what –”

“Ax, it’s a girl thing,” Tobias said quietly to him.  “You really embarrassed Cassie.”

Aximili looked contrite.  “That was not my intention.  I am merely curious as to what this pad is.  Why is it a girl thing?”

Again, the boys all looked away and Rachel gave a laugh, rolling her eyes.  “Geez, it’s a good thing Cassie didn’t ask for a tampon.”

All of the boys winced.

“And what is that?”

Even Rachel looked uncomfortable explaining what a tampon was, at least with a large male audience and to Aximili’s eager face.  I wondered if there was enough time to escape before they turned for me for assistance, or if Matilda and Cassie would return.

“So what is a period?  I assumed that it is a female process, from the These Messages, but you haven’t said what it is.”

I rubbed my temple when the children all looked at me, begging for help or to at least stop this conversation.  Probably preferring the latter.  “It is actually called the menstruation cycle, which is where the uterus sheds the blood lining and unfertilized egg.”

Aximili’s eyes looked at Jake and his mouth opened, and with horror I realized where his mind was going, making a natural assumption.  I had made it those years ago as well, and Jake did not need to feel even more uncomfortable.

“It is a completely natural process.  Human females have no control over it, and the male plays _no_ part,” I said quickly.  “The cycle is approximately one month long and will happen unless the egg is fertilized.”

My brother took this in and made a very logical leap.  “That is very inefficient.  It may take many cycles before fertilization would happen, and if these menstruation cycles happens when there is no mating –”

“Okay, can we please talk about something else?” Jake demanded.

Aximili stared at the others.  “Why does this make you uncomfortable?”

“It just does, Ax,” Tobias said feebly.

“Very,” Jake added.

“Some more than others,” Rachel said.

“But is seems as if it is your natural biology.”

“Not mine,” Marco corrected under his breath.

“And it’s easy not to be embarrassed when it isn’t your species we’re talking about over dinner,” Rachel said.

“I would not be embarrassed, and neither would Elfangor.”  While it was true, I did not care for my little brother to add me to his claim.  Instead of agreeing, I focused on helping myself to some of the roast.  “Then again, Andalite females do not have these menstruation cycles.  It would be very inefficient.”

“Lucky them,” Rachel said. 

It was then that Cassie, still red in the face, and Matilda returned.  Aximili did his best to apologize, and Cassie mumbled that it was okay, focusing solely on her plate.

“Well, what about Andalites, then?” Rachel asked and I almost scowled at her.  Could we not move away from these conversations?  I dealt with nervous teenagers in battles; couldn’t I have a time when they wouldn’t be ready to spring away from a hint of danger?  “How does it all … you know, work, you know?”

“It works the same way as for humans.  Male and female mate,” I said.  “The egg is fertilized.”

There was a bit of staring at the plates from the children as Matilda said, slowly, “Did we miss some important precursor conversation?” She appeared slightly embarrassed, but not nearly as much as the children, perhaps aware that this wasn’t exactly proper dinner conversation but mature enough to realize it was natural and nothing to be ashamed about.

Aximili was more than willing to bring her up to speed.  “I merely said that human menstruation cycles appear very inefficient and –”

“Why are we still discussing this?” Marco whined, interrupting.

“You complain that you know nothing about Andalites, and yet, when we try to inform you, you don’t wish to learn,” Aximili snipped.  I wondered about this _we_ he mentioned.  I certainly wasn’t trying to inform them of anything.

“I think this isn’t quite what we had in mind,” Jake said diplomatically.

Aximili shook his head, then looked at Matilda, eating as he spoke.  “Anyway, Andalite females do not go through such cycles.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  It would be too much of a strain on the body.  Andalites get our nutrients from gazing, as you know, but such a method is not especially effective during certain times of the year, when the grasses have less nutrients.  Historically-speaking anyway, because now it is not a very big issue.  A female is able to control her time until she is prepared and when the external factors are not too troubling, because otherwise she might have carried during a season when it would be impossible to support back then.”

Matilda nodded politely and seemed to be trying to not smile.  I wondered at what she found humorous, then realized having a biology lesson from someone who had gravy dripping off his chin was not the standard fare.  “They actually control it?   That’s pretty cool.”

I couldn’t understand the coolness, as it was _natural_ and _right_ , but Aximili nodded.  “It is very complex, of course.  There is a sort of call-and-response of pheromones between the male and female during the process.”

“Pheromones?” Cassie repeated, having grown interested.  I sighed quietly.  I preferred it when she had been mortified into silence, given this conversation.  All it did was make the rest of the children upset and twitchy in their seats.  I was afraid someone was going to knock the peas to the floor.

“Yes.  Andalites are greatly influenced by scents and pheromones for the mating process.”

“God, can you please stop now?  I’m trying to eat!” Marco complained.  “And I can’t do that if you’re talking about Andalites getting it on.”

“‘Getting it on?’”

“Erm … doing it,” Tobias explained in a whisper, cheeks red, thought it explained nothing as far as Aximili was concerned.

“Sex,” Matilda offered.  By the children’s responses and her grin, she had chosen that word for a reason.

“And what would be so nauseating about Andalites having sex, Marco?” I asked with a slight frown as I scooped up my peas.

Marco choked at my question.  “I didn’t mean … oh, come on.”

“It’s no more disgusting than imaging humans mating,” Aximili snapped back, ruffled. 

There were a variety of responses to that, ranging from amusement to disagreement.  I sighed.  “I’m sure Aximili merely meant that the thought of mating by either species is equally disgusting, which is to say, not at all.”  When Aximili made to open his mouth, I said firmly, “Isn’t that right.”

He nodded.

“What did you mean by the call-and-response thing?” Cassie asked, trying to both leave the point of contention as well as being genuinely interested.

For a moment Aximili continued to glare at Marco, but then answered Cassie.  “Oh, it is as it sounds.  The female releases a pheromone to let the male know she is preparing to release.  The male then can generate the sperm.”

“The guys aren’t ready all the time?” Rachel asked, surprised and almost crude.

The male children blanched.  Jake withdrew like he had been physically hit, Tobias turned red, and Marco sputtered.  As for the females, Cassie gave her a disapproving look and Matilda nearly choked on her mash potatoes from her laughter.

Aximili blinked, not quite understanding Rachel’s question.  “Well, there is usually a small amount of sperm generated, but it is rarely enough to fertilize the egg.  But it would be a waste of the sugar energy for males to produce copious amounts of sperm when there was no need.  So until the female wishes to carry, there is little risk of the couple producing a child no matter how often they copulate.”

“So you shoot blanks?” Jake said without thinking, then paled when he realized what he had said.  Marco snickered at his friend’s embarrassment.

The meaning was lost on Aximili, and he looked at me helplessly.  “Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “Andalites shoot ‘blanks’ until procreation is actually desired.”  Really, didn’t human parents speak to their children about this?  How could this be so annoyingly uncomfortable for the humans?  After all, one’s parents had to mate for one to exist.

“Of course, it can still take many years.  It may take a couple some time to get into sync, as it still is a very unconscious response and many things can upset it.  The actual mating encounter is supposed to lead to a very calming experience, though.”

Silence, and I looked up to everyone looking at me, though Aximili was probably only looking for a general confirmation of his statement, not one of personal experience.  “Why are you all looking at me like that?” I demanded, feeling rather insulted.  “I’m not joined with any one.  I’ve been on Dome ships half my life.”

“So no girl in every port?” Matilda quipped, meeting my gaze.  Like a challenge.

I scoffed and met her challenge.  “All three of them.  Andalites are not like humans.  Males are not overcome with intense desires for copulations for no apparent reasons.  Without the trigger of the female’s pheromones, males will be not be aroused.”  Normally, anyway.  There are, of course, some unusual circumstances.

“Really?” Her tone colored disbelief and a hint of mockery.

“Really.”  I cut my meat and chewed it, considering this train of conversation ended.  It insulted my honor.

“So no morning wood for Andalites.  Okay, great, let’s start talking about Yeerks, decent dinner conversation,” Marco said.

“What is –”

“Ax, please,” Tobias said.  “I’m sure Elfangor will answer anything you want. When you two will be _alone_.”

Aximili shook his head.  “Of course he would.  But why does it matter –”  Suddenly he stopped, because I cut it with a private thought-spoken point as to a topic Andalites wouldn’t like brought up in public, swearing by my tail that if he did not drop this conversation, I would make him explain that topic to the humans.  “Ah, very well then.”  His cheeks were red as he went back to his food. 

The children and Matilda all stared at him, and then they looked at me.  “Could someone pass the carrots?” I asked innocently.

 ****

‹An anti-morphing ray?› I repeated, looking at Erek with disbelief.  I knew I should have been worried when Matilda led the posse out to find me.  ‹Let me understand this correctly.  The Yeerks have invented an Anti-Morphing ray?›

“It appears so,” the Chee said with as much fanfare as he had previously, which was to say none at all.  “They are placing the final simulations on it and hope to begin testing it by capturing one of you.”

“Well, that blows,” Marco said unequivocally. 

“Ya think?” Rachel snapped.

Cassie broke up the fight.  “Is it even possible, to make us un-morph?”

‹Any technology can be undone,› Aximili said once it was clear I wasn’t going to respond.

“But don’t you have to know how the technology works to actually undo it?” Tobias said.

Aximili shook his head.  ‹No.  It does make it easier, but it is not necessary.›

“But how do the Yeerks even know enough about the technology to stop it?  I mean you have to have some idea of what to stop,” Matilda countered.  “Otherwise you’re basing everything on luck.”

‹Tis traitors, again, most likely,› I said quietly, thinking.  ‹Analysis of deceased warriors wouldn’t give any sort of viable information on the technology, as the globules pockets of DNA are destroyed with the loss of movement, warmth, and oxygen within a few minutes.›  I stared up at the sky, trying to remember those boring lessons on the morphing technology.

“Do you know anything about how it works, Erek?” Jake asked.

“No, I’m sorry.  I know they’re doing preliminary testing with computers soon, but as to how, no.”  He gave a rueful smile.  “They don’t have middle-schoolers on the project.”

“Computer simulations,” Rachel growled.  “That shows they have to have a reasonable idea of how it works, otherwise they’re a waste.”

“Well, I don’t think Visser Three is volunteering himself as a test subject,” Marco stated.

‹It makes no sense,› I said.  ‹There were extensive tests done on the technology when it was first made almost fifty years ago.  The scientists were very thorough, as per regulations.›  Because whatever may be said about Andalites, we do not allow untested technology to be used on our citizens, and especially not on our military.  Even before the technology was available to the public, it probably went through five to ten Andalite years, or fifteen to thirty Earth years, of vigorous trials.  ‹All sorts of radiation, all conditions.  The only thing we weren’t supposed to do was pass the time limit.›

“How does it work?” Cassie asked.

Matilda groaned quietly and I gave her a faint smile.  She had asked Aximili once and sat with a dazed look as he explained.  And once Aximili explained again, the children were sitting, incomprehensible.

“So you’re saying … when we morph, the DNA is replacing our own DNA?” Tobias hedged. “Because of … stuff, and since DNA makes us, we change as our DNA is replaced?”

“And the extra mass goes into Z-space,” Marco put in, to show he had been paying attention.  It was one aspect of the understanding of morphing he clung to, probably because it terrified him. 

I smiled.  ‹Yes.›  I thought about a human-friendly explanation.  ‹Think about it as if you are a piece of clay.  You are designed off of a model, your DNA.  The _Escafil_ device deposits small _trests_ into your systems, devices that are on the nanoscale.  The _trests_ form the _quallivans_ , the small orbs of the DNA from creatures we acquire, which float in our blood stream. _Quallivans_ would, for this analogy, be similar to the sculptor’s eyes, which see, take-up, and input the new picture, or DNA.  _Trests_ would be the tools used to sculpt your form into the new image.  There is one in each of your cells.  The sculptor can have any number of images in his mind, so there are numerous _quallivans_ , but the tools, the _trests_ , are the same in all cases.  When you morph, the _trests_ isolate the appropriate _quallivan_ and go to that form. To demorph, the _trests_ merely correctly find your true DNA, which is a _quallivan_ as well, and work in the reverse. 

‹However, if one is in morph too long, the clay is no longer sticky, as it were, and the model cannot return to normal as easily.  The _trests_ and _quallivans_ were also designed to survive in a certain cellular environment, so they lose their functionality as time increases in the new form.  It is why we cannot go from one morph to another.  The _quallivans_ and _trests_ must be restored in their original environment.  Once they are defunct, they cannot be revived, which is why no one can receive the morphing ability once they become a _nothlit_.  The _Escafil device_ only deposits a handful of the devices, which rapidly manufacture themselves the first day or so and situate themselves in all of the cells.  Since there is only one _trest_ per cell, even as a _nothlit_ , the incoming do not spread and become secured in the body, and eventually are expelled.›

They stared at me.  “You know,” Cassie said slowly.  “I actually understood that.”

Aximili looked insulted.  ‹Elfangor has merely bared it to the simplest nature.  There is more to morphing than that.  It is not even completely correct.›  He gave me a disapproving look.

Yes.  From thirty thousand yottabytes of information to that.  Of course it wasn’t perfect.  ‹The question is, what could the Yeerks have found that can interfere with _trests_ and _quallivans_?› I said.

“Don’t look at me,” Erek said, for the children seemed to focus their attention onto him.  “I may be an android, but I don’t know everything about machines.  And especially not Andalite technology.”

“Maybe it won’t work,” Rachel shrugged.  “If what you say is true, this is all make-believe, like with their obedience drug.  They don’t want to say no to the Visser’s idea, so they go along with it.”

Possible, I supposed, but I wasn’t going to risk it.  ‹Until we know otherwise, we have to treat this as if it is a real threat.›

“Pretty stupid of the Visser to make, when you think about it,” Matilda said.  “He morphs as well.  He relies on it to get out of sticky situations almost as much as we do.  The ray would work both ways.  If we get it, he’s comparatively helpless.  After all, it’d be two against one.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Whoa, you’re right,” Marco breathed.  “We get him cornered and bam, we could get him.”

“The Hork-Bajir could help Ax and Elfangor, because you know we’d never get him alone,” Rachel added, though sounding slightly disappointed that she couldn’t join in the fight.

‹We are getting ahead of ourselves!› I said loudly, disapprovingly. Because, while it was a nice plan, it was too soon.  And I could not allow myself the hope of being the one to free Prince Alloran.  ‹We will not make such grand plans using a weapon that we cannot even be sure works.  And the fact of the matter is that such a weapon would greatly benefit the Yeerks in the fight against other Andalites.›  I looked at Erek.  ‹Please keep us informed if you do learn anything else.›

“Of course.”

Soon everyone left, except for Aximili, Matilda, Tobias, and myself. 

“Not to put another point into the discussion,” Tobias said slowly, “but what do you think the range this ray would have?”

Aximili shrugged.  ‹It would depend.  It might need to be at close-range.›

I caught the hidden point.  ‹Or it could be long-range.  They could activate it in orbit.  Any time.  We could be walking in public and find ourselves demorphing.  For all to see.›

‹Oh, yes.›

I rubbed my temples and closed my main eyes.  ‹The Yeerks are causing trouble.  It must be a day that ends in ‘Y’.›

Aximili gave me a confused look while the humans smiled.  ‹They all end in ‘Y,’ Elfangor.›  Then he understood.  ‹Ah, yes.  It must be.›

 ****

It was raining.  I had been upstairs, sleeping, when a loud thunderclap startled me awake.  Seeing the rain coming down hard, by Earth standards, I went down downstairs and sat on the steps of the porch, just watching.  It was cool, but I wouldn’t be chilled for some time, and overhead the wind chime made a musical calliope in the blowing wind.

There was something pleasant about the rain.  Andalites do not discourage it like humans are wont, understanding that it is needed for the plants.  It’s just part of life, and there were stories and ancient dances Andalites of the past used to do during the storms.  Now, they are mostly movements little ones do in play, when the old meanings are never as important as being able to splash and frolic around and rush away before one’s parents could scold them for the mischief.

I wondered what my brother would be up to.  I doubted he would sleep through the rain, but one never knew.  I never did, when I was little, until I was too tired to stay awake anymore.  I was always the child following his parents everywhere in the storm until he finally collapsed into a sleeping heap, and his parents, indulgent and caring, would continue to stand over him for some small bit of shelter.  Perhaps Aximili had had more common sense than me.

Those memories were probably the fondest I have of my parents, the memories that stood out the most from my earlier childhood.  There was no particular reason, but it will forever be something I can remember with a startling clarity – running back and forth between them, splashing puddles with Father when we pretended Mother wasn’t watching (but, of course, as an Andalite, she always was), ducking under them and feeling the closeness and warmth, the smell of wet fur and dirt.  Other details are hazy, and the memories have combined to form only one instance, but I remember.  Remember how my parents had seemed so tall and strong and sure and fast and safe.

Even though I’m older, no longer so weak or slow or short, part of me still did see them as such.

One time, in a storm similar to this, it had been the first time I actually spoke of my parents to Loren.

_There was a brief flash of lightning, bright and sharp, followed only moments by the loud roll of thunder, still loud.  It had woken me, and looking to the window and hearing the pattering-pattering, the storm raged.  I had escaped the bedroom with all the silence I could muster, slipping out and down the hall, then to the backdoor, to look at the yard.  Not the front, because I did not want to see street._

_In the darkness, if I pretended, if I closed my eyes, I could almost be home.  Or what had been my home.  Shaking slightly from the cold, I went to the edge, to just where the roof stopped offering protection, where there was a small waterfall, and sat.  The splashing water hit my bare feet in a freezing moment, drenched my pajama pants, but I didn’t care. Eyes still closed, I crossed my arms atop my knees and leaned forward so that the spray could hit my face._

_It had been a difficult few days.  Loren’s grandmother – her maternal – had passed due to a stroke.  It had not been Nana’s first – I was given leave to call her such, and it gave her pleasure, I believe.  She’d had one a few years prior, which had, among other things, left her with slightly slurred speech, an inability to walk without assistance, and a loss in her dexterity with her hands._

_But she had still had her senses, knew who people were around her.  She was as active as one in her condition could be, and she had her hobbies.  Even with her handicap, she still tried to knit.  The first holiday we spent with her, she had made me a sweater, but it was uneven and both too large and too small for me.  Part of me thought she had been testing me, to see how I would respond, as I accepted the gift and thanked her, said that it was just fine and would certainly be able to wear it somewhere.  For some reason, Loren had fled, finding mirth in my situation, and the others were just as amused.  I wondered if I had made a mistake and could only hold the mess of yarn uncertainly.  It was one thing to be polite and lie; it was another to be caught so readily in it and have everyone laugh at you.  Thankfully, Nana did not point out my fault._

_(I had been terribly nervous upon meeting her.  An Andalite would not have allowed himself to live with such a crippling problem, would not have allowed himself to be seen and cared for.  But humans … humans were different.  They did not tolerate the idea that such persons should be left to their solitude, did not allow them honorable suicides.  Added to all that, Nana had been an elder, someone who deserved respect.  How was I to know how to properly convey everything?  Loren simply said to be myself, but being myself would not have been worthy.)_

_Loren had been hurt at the loss – not shocked or heart-broken, having accepted that Nana would not live forever after her first stroke, in which many thought she would not recover from.  But even though she did not fall into inconsolable tears like on the television, she was feeling the loss and desired more physical contact, as if to make sure I was still alive.  I tried to give as best I could. I was not, as the humans say, a hugger, but I found it helped both her Loren and her mother if I tried, though I did fear that my mother-in-law might never let me go when we first arrived at her home.  We had gone to help her mother with the arrangements, and, imitating Loren, I offered the sympathy.  And then she had grabbed me and hung on for longer than I knew what to do, made little sniffing sounds, and, desperate for something to do with my arms, I patted her back.  I did not understand why my hug lasted so long while the one with Loren, her own daughter, was the briefest of intertwining arms._

_However, I did not think it was proper to question such a thing or human burial rites at that time.  It was just so odd that they place the deceased in a box, pumped it full of chemicals.  How was it to return to the world in such a way?  What did this ceremony mean?  Why did we have to wear black?  Why do humans always use cut flowers to memorialize these kinds of events? Was it because the cut flowers represented the deceased, as they, once cut, would wilt and decay to symbolize the loss of life, the beauty offered to the world?_

_At the wake and funeral, there had been much reminiscencing about Nana’s life, and Loren was happy to tell me all the little stories grandchildren have of their grandparents.  Some of them had been very amusing.  Whether it had been the timing or her own kindness, she did not ask me of my own elders.  If she had, there wouldn’t have been much for me to report.  Father’s parents had been dead before I was born, passing during the first years of my parents’ joining.  I do not know all of the details, as neither of my parents cared to speak of it, but I did know there had been an accident with a transit ship that injured my grandfather.  Though it may not have led to his death, it did lead to his death, if one would understand my meaning.  My grandmother had died soon afterwards due to the loss, for, as Father used to say, she had been of delicate health._

_My mother’s parents resided on the  moon_ Ala _and we did not see them often. While I did have stories, they were neither as humorous nor as numerous as the ones Loren provided.  My maternal grandparents had been a serious pair and not ones to play too many games with a young one, even if he was their blood.  They were not cold, I must stress, but they were not much fun to be around either.   They had used to chide my parents for giving me so much attention, of the belief that it would only spoil me and teach me wild ways, but Father did not follow the advice ever, and Mother was always herself soon after her parents left our company.  (They would die from a Yeerk attack after I returned to duty, having taken a transfer to an Andalite outpost to assist in the war.)_

_The rain was still coming down hard, and I watched the drops beat on the grass.  By now, my pants were wet to my knees, the bottom damp and cold, and my hair was cementing down.  Focused on the water and cold, I jumped when warm hands touched my shoulders._

_“You’re going to get pneumonia again,” Loren scolded, sitting down behind me on a step higher, so her knees were on either side of me._

_“I will be fine,” I protested quietly, feeling the contrast in heat with her arms looped casually around me._

_She didn’t say anything, and we sat watching the rain.  When the thunder sounded, Loren said, “Gutter ball.”_

_“What?”_

_“It’s what my dad used to say when I was little, that the thunder was from God bowling.  That’s the game with the black ball and ten pins.”_

_“I know what bowling is,” I said. I even knew what strikes and gutter balls were.  Especially gutter balls._

_“I know.”  She pressed her lips against my hair.  “Anyway, whenever there was thunder, he’d say, ‘God got a gutter ball,’ or, ‘That one was a strike.’”_

_“Oh.”  Loren did not often talk about her father.  I knew it had been a desire for her to somehow find him, to have him at our wedding.  There was some importance about the father walking the bride down the aisle._

_“Yeah.”  She set her chin on my shoulder and was quiet for a few minutes.  “Did it wake you?  The rain?”_

_I nodded, because there was no reason to lie._

_“Why did you come out here?”_

_“I like the rain.”_

_She gave a small fond laugh.  “I know.”  Her hand rubbed my skin.  “You’re freezing, you know that, don’t you.”_

_“I’m fine.”_

_There was another small laugh, and she said, “It’s been a rough week, hasn’t it?”_

_“Your grandmother died.  Of course it has been.”_

_“I didn’t mean for me.”_

_I wasn’t sure what she meant.  “I’ve been fine.”_

_“You’ve been shoved with all of my relatives and forced to hug my mom whenever she was going to start crying.  And thank you for that,” she said, giving me a kiss.  “She needed that.”_

_“You hugged her, too.” Not as often, but I didn’t say that._

_Loren was quiet, as if trying to think of something to say.  “It wasn’t the same.  I don’t mean to say it meant more, but it did coming from you, or something, to her.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“I think it’s just because of Dad,” she said quietly.  I didn’t have anything to say to that, and Loren didn’t elaborate.  “But thank you.  I know it was hard for you.”_

_“It was my obligation as part of your family.”_

_Her hand continued to rub my skin, and I felt the momentary spread of warmth.  “Nana did like you.”_

_I lowered my eyes, though the statement did give me the pleasure it should.  “I am glad.  I was fond of her as well.”_

_“She was hard not to like.”_

_“Yes.”_

_We listened to the rain and thunder._

_“What are you thinking about?”_

_“Nothing.”  Perhaps I lied._

_“Why did you come out here?”_

_I shrugged.  “I like the rain.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I just do.  I have fond memories of rain.”_

_“Oh?”_

_I didn’t elaborate, because saying it out loud, to her, suddenly expanded the distance between memory and reality, between my parents and myself.  I found I couldn’t speak, so I nodded._

_“Me too.  I used to run around in these huge green rain boots and red rain coat in our backyard.  And I’d stand right under the roof and get hit by the water, like it was a waterwall.  My mom always made me take a hot bath so I didn’t get sick.”_

_I couldn’t form words for a minute or so.  “I used to … my father and I would make water baskets to catch_ Hifpen _.  We never caught any.   Because they were imaginary, but I didn’t learn that until I was much older.  Father used to make such a big expedition out of it, how we had to be quiet and sneaky and how they used to always be by Mother, did I just see it, it was right there, it just flew away.  It was always behind my eyes or under my belly or somewhere I would never see and I would get frustrated when the rain stopped and I didn’t even get one, because_ Hifpen _were only around when it rained.”  I had been such a child._

_Loren’s arms had tightened around me.  “What did your mom do?”_

_“Laughed, probably.”  Loren giggled.  “She didn’t join us, said she would be someone who didn’t move around so much so that the_ Hifpen _could land on her, weren’t scared away.  She used to say it was a better way to catch them, while Father said it was better to make the baskets, and it was always a competition to see who would catch more.  I tried a few times to do it her way, but Father always found a nest just in the displays and would be saying he was going to catch them all and I would rush over.  Of course there wouldn’t be any, because I just scared them all away.  And it would start all over again, until I was so exhausted from running everywhere I would fall asleep.  And then Father would gloat that he caught some while I slept and so many had landed right on me and I was so tired I didn’t even notice and Mother would point out that her way was obviously best and I couldn’t wait for it to rain again, next time I wouldn’t fall asleep.”  I dimly realized I had started to babble._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered._

_“Why?  It was just a silly game, nothing real.”_

_“Elfangor, it’s okay to miss them.”_

_“What?  I’m fine.  Fine,” I denied even as my throat tightened._

_“You’re crying.”_

_“No, I’m not.  It’s just the rain, that’s all.  Just the rain.”_

_She hugged me tighter and wiped my face, and all I could repeat for several minutes was that I wasn’t crying, it was just the rain.  Just the rain._

It had been childish to break down like that, especially after so long being stranded on Earth, but I could forgive myself.  I _had_ been a child, even if I would never have admitted it then.  And I still miss my parents, constantly.  How could I not?  They were my parents.  But I do not lose myself as I did then, because now I was used to the distance and the feelings.  And I had grown up, become independent. 

For the rest of my time on Earth, whenever it rained, Loren would go to the window, look out, and ask if I saw any _Hifpen_.  She’d tease me and say she thought she just saw the flash of one.

Watching the rain now, I could meditate, focus back on our problem.  An anti-morphing ray.  Our efforts to find it before it became functional were a failure.  The Yeerks were keeping this as secure as they could, with decoys and secret channels.  And it did not help our cause that we had our own problems with two Rachels.

It was reasons like that – though, honestly, that _particular_ reason would never have occurred to me – which made I frown on the children using morphing for their own gain.  For the sake of an earring!  If she would have explained it to me, I would have gotten her a replacement pair so her father wouldn’t be hurt.  Instead, we had had to deal with the extremes of her personality.  And they had been some extremes.

The problem we now faced was trying to find where they would house the device.  Even if we focused on the locations that would meet the requirements for the thing, there were too many, and that was when I limited my search to the surrounding counties.  It would be impossible to search them all.  I had to base the search on any information the Chee could gleam, no matter how petty.  I doubted and feared we would be able to find it before it was too late, and it made me ask the Chee if they could find the plans for the machine as well. I hoped they would be easier to located, and with them, perhaps we could determine if the Yeerks were likely to succeed.

This machine had to focus our attention though, above all else.  While the children and Aximili could only see the short-range use, my vision was broader and more horrific.  If this machine worked, it would be a boon to Visser Three.  He could be promoted to Visser One with such an accomplishment.  And then this device would be available to all Yeerks, could be used on our Andalite forces, used to find our spies.  Our small edge would be taken from us, from the Andalites, with no warning.  Who knew what that could cost in this war? 

So this needed our primary attention.  It didn’t matter how long it took, how many other issues we ignored.  Until we either knew the truth and, if necessary, destroyed the weapon, we focused on this.  And hoped, prayed that Visser Three was still so suspicious and power-hungry that he did not share any of the plans with another.

The door made a quiet squeak and I turned to see Matilda opening it, tight in her robe.  Champ whined and I could hear him scratching; when she allowed him out, he rushed to me, licked my face.

“You couldn’t have taken him out for me, could you?” she demanded, but there wasn’t any true anger in her voice.

“I did not mean to wake him,” I apologized, and it occurred to me that perhaps he did not like thunderstorms.  But in a second the notion vanished, because he ran out into the yard.

“Now I’m going to have wet-dog smell all over the place.”

“Yes, you will.”

She sat next to me, hugging her robe.  “What are you doing up?”

“Watching the rain and thinking.”

“About what?”

“The anti-morphing device.”

She nodded.  “We’ll figure it out.  Somehow.  I thought maybe you were still mad at Rachel.”

“The trouble she caused wasn’t really her fault,” I said.  “I am angry at the circumstances, but not at her.  Though it is possibly another thing our scientists did not learn about when they tested the morphing ability.  We do not have creatures that can self-generate.”

“Guess Andalites aren’t as smart as they think.  Though, considering how smart they _think_ they are, it would be pretty impossible.”

I gave her a look but didn’t say anything.  The chimes rang over our heads.  When Champ returned, he gave himself a fierce shake, earning a scold from Matilda as we were peppered with the water, but he collapsed to lie next to her.

“It’s kind of weird that it would happen like that, isn’t it?  You get cut in half and your personality splits,” Matilda commented.  “How does that even happen?”

“Don’t ask me,” I shrugged.  “It honestly does not make sense, to my mind.  If I must guess, personality is perhaps more of a mental presentation than a biological, though DNA does pay its part.  If the first Rachel –”

“The mean one, and I’m glad your cheek still isn’t bruised.”

“ – if the first one could only draw back the mental configuration of the part she actually contained, or perhaps her own emotions influenced what would come, the latter Rachel would be forced to get the remainder.”

“But why couldn’t they just have been the same?  Like twins?”

“Because,” I paused, trying to think and remember.  “Because both had to draw from the same source, from Rachel’s true mass in Z-space.  The technology can only draw back the original mass that the particular _trest_ was responsible for, the bio-signaling that keeps it so the right cells go in the right area.  Lacking that, the needed absent mass was taken from Z-space to complete the form.  Each half of Rachel only has access to half of her form. The technology tried to mend what it could.  But, then again, this is only theory.”

“Something you’re pulling out of your tail, yeah, I noticed.  But I guess it makes a little sense.  At least I can pretend there was a reason.”  She gave a strange smile.  “At least it isn’t common.  Can you imagine having two of all of them?”

I laughed at the horror.  “One of them is quite enough, especially if they would all be as pronounced as Rachel.”

“Think about it.  Funny Marco and Ruthless Marco.  Animal-loving Cassie and … um …”

“Manipulative Cassie.”  It was one of the nicer character traits I could have named.

She gave me a smile, shaking her head.  “It’s a good thing it didn’t happen to you.  If two of any of them would have been trouble, you would have been impossible.”

“Possibly.”  I didn’t like thinking how I would have separated, because I knew how I was.  I was a ruthless warrior, far more than Rachel.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, though I do not think I would have been as scared as her half had been, I would have been … been civilian.  Domestic.  But not in the way humans view it, but as an Andalite.  The caring, over-bearing adult, intent on the herd and the family and the honor therein.  I shuddered at how I could have been, at what I very well might have done to repair honor and family. 

I do not think I could have been conjoined if half of me became a _nothlit_ again.

Clearing my throat, I decided to counter.  “At least there was not two of you.”

Her teeth flashed in the light.  “Yeah.  You don’t even know what to do with one of me.”

“I beg to differ.  It is only that there are so many things I cannot decide on one.”

“So maybe two of me would be a good thing.  For some things.”  She gave me a wink.

Uncertain to her meaning, I looked back at the rain.  “We have to start being careful.”

“What?” 

“The Anti-Morphing Device,” I reminded. Her voice had been confused, as if we were on two different conversations.

“Oh, that.  Not that we’ve been not careful already.”

I shook my head.  Obviously, she had completely forgotten about exactly _how_ we had ended up with two Rachels.  “This is too important not to take seriously, not until we know the truth about the device.  No more morphing, except of course for Aximili and me.  It’ll be too much of a risk.”

“But what about if something happens, something we have to stop?  Like, I don’t know, something big.”

“If the benefits outweigh the risks, we will have to chance it, but until then ….”  I sighed.  “We can’t risk any of us getting caught and subjugated to that thing, nor to what the Yeerks would do if it doesn’t work.  And it is not just our safety in the balance, but that of the Hork-Bajir in the Valley, the Chee, the Yeerks who prefer a more symbiotic relationship.  Other secrets of our concern.”

Matilda bit her lip, worried, but she finally nodded.  “I guess it would be the safest way.  But for how long?  It could take us weeks, months even, to find this thing.  Who knows what they could do in that amount of time?”

“And would you rather imagine the opposite?  I do not like it,” I admitted.  “Not at all.  But it is the best course of action.”

“I don’t know if the kids will see it that way.”

“They’ll listen and obey,” I said without much concern.  “Once they see the true risk, they will.”

Matilda shook her head.  “I hope you’re right.”  She stood up.  “I’m going back to bed.  Don’t stay out here too long.  You’ll get pneumonia or something, and we don’t need you to be sick right now.  Come on, Champ.”

Once they had gone inside, I shook the smile off my face and looked back out on the yard.  Hopefully, we would solve this before the Yeerks did too much damage, so much that we couldn’t recover from it.  Covering my face with my hands, I prayed for the clarity I desperately needed.  Something to keep all of us safe, some clever realization, but nothing came.

I hoped the Chee found plans.  I hoped I could make sense of what would no doubt be Yeerk jumbles and poor science.  I hoped we all got out of this alive.

Dropping my hands, I hoped there was still chocolate cake in the back of the freezer.  Aximili did not often check there.

 ****

‹What were you thinking?!› I screamed, all of the panic and rage and fear finally seeping through. ‹Were you even thinking?  Three years at the Academy and you didn’t learn how to think!›

‹I had to do it!› Aximili said back, not a scream, but quiet.  He was still shaking, slightly.

It made no sense to me.  ‹You had to, that’s your defense?›  I hissed.  ‹You had to allow yourself to be captured by the Yeerks, to be subjected to the ray, to allow yourself to tortured, to almost become a _nothlit_! You had to!?›

‹I was the only one who could.›

‹No, you were not!›

‹Yes, I was!› Aximili cried.  ‹None of the humans could do it and I was the logical choice, but you would never make it!  You think you have to protect me, you would have done it yourself!›

‹Because it would have been my responsibility!  I am the Prince!  It’s my –›

‹No!  No, it’s your job to lead us!  And that means you cannot be captured, cannot become a _nothlit_!  I could!  I’m just an _aristh_.›

If I had been human, I would have been grinding my teeth.  As it was, my fists were clenched, my muscles strained.  ‹Just an _aristh_?  Can you count, _aristh_?  There are eight of us!  Did you think of how your loss would affect us?›  In battle and in life, but I didn’t say that, because it was too close to personal, too close to me revealing myself. 

‹We had to know!›

‹I already knew!› I screamed.

‹Not for certain!  Elfangor, all you’re doing is trying to protect all of us.  You’ve let three Yeerk operations go by without stopping them!  And when there are operations, you stop them yourself! All to keep it so the humans won’t be captured.  We all could tell.  We had to know.›

I shook my head at him, realizing the unspoken truth.  ‹You … you fools,› I breathed, horrified.  ‹You contemptuous little fools.  It was all planned.  The others knew, didn’t they?›

Aximili looked at me firmly, with all of his eyes.  ‹Yes. I made them not tell.  They agreed with me.›

It was why they knew where Aximili was being held, how long, when it was only supposed to have been poor luck at his being captured.

My warriors had gone behind my back.  It was almost mutiny.  All of them.  Because they didn’t trust me, my judgment.  Thought I was risking the battles. 

I had always known they were loose cannons, but to have the evidence shoved in my face so brutally.  And so needlessly.

I stepped back.  ‹I cannot trust any of you.›

‹Elfangor, we had to know!›

‹No, Aximili, I already knew,› I repeated quietly.  Aximili’s stalks straightened in surprise.  ‹What did you think I was doing all this time?  Hiding?  Protecting the humans?›  I allowed my venom to seep, remembering the panic I had felt, how I almost killed myself trying to rescue my foolish little brother.  How I knew the ray wouldn’t work, how he was going to become a _nothlit_ rather than demorph.  What the Yeerks could – no, what they did to him. 

The Yeerk who did that to him would not ever get the chance to do it again.  I made sure of _that._

This time Aximili stepped back.  ‹What?›  His thoughts cracked slightly, as realization that his capture, his torture had been pointless.

‹It’ll never work, not as they are currently thinking,› I said dispassionately, as if giving a debriefing to a superior or maybe commenting on the weather.  ‹The scientists, Yeerk and human, are using theories that say the technology using electrical impulses to activate the _trests_ and _quallivans_.  But that’s wrong, or at least not entirely correct.  They’re run not just by potential differences, but by the mental stimulations of excretions of hormones and other bodily byproducts, determined by the thoughts when the morph was acquired.  It is why each _quallivan_ is seen as different, why you don’t accidentally morph one thing when you mean another.›  Unless, of course, there are extenuating circumstances.

I looked at my little brother, delivering my blows with no softness.  Terrible, yes, but I wanted him to hurt.  ‹I’ve spent the last week breaking into the labs the Chee supplied, spending hours going over their notes, going over the schematics, the calculations with the Chees' help.›  As well as Gafinilan's and, through him, Mertil's.  Gafinilan and I had poured over the pages in areas where we could meet undetected, tried to make sense of everything.  We relied on the coffee pot quite a bit during those sessions.  ‹You want proof?  Check my computer, my room. It’s all there.

‹Unlike you or any of the humans, I can count.  There are eight of us.  Not eight hundred, like on a Dome ship.  The loss of even one is a drastic setback.  Excuse me for considering checking this more important than a few Yeerk issues.›

‹Why … why didn’t you tell us?› Aximili whispered.

‹I was going to.  Tonight.  I just finished going over the files, the calculations, everything last night enough that I was willing to risk it.  However, I foolishly decided to sleep before saying anything.  After all, I had ordered all of you to stand-down while this issue was around, again foolishly thinking you’d listen to me.›

Maybe he meant, why didn’t I tell them I was doing something.  I turned away, suddenly unable to watch myself shatter my little brother more than he already was.  I hadn’t told them my intentions because the majority of them were humans.  They would have been helpless in this search.  They didn’t know anything about this technology, couldn’t do the calculations, didn’t know what to look for when we were in the labs.  Aximili would have been little better.  While he would have been able to help with some of the calculations and finding the information, he would have been worthless in the actual application.  He never had to read the treatise on the technology for an assignment, just went through the class.  The morphing lessons had been more vigorous in my day, the theoretical, I mean, desperately trying to round us into artistic warriors.  The practice ended quickly, of course.  Officials soon decided having every warrior know how the technology worked wasn’t very wise, and really, the students weren’t reading it anyway, so why not just remove it?  But I had always been a good little student, wanting to be great, wanting to be the one that got to intern on a Dome ship. 

 … And then, when I returned to my Andalite form, I desperately sought even more information, went deep into the files to learn if I had, by allowing Prince Alloran to be taken, made it possible for the Yeerks to retrograde the morphing technology.

I _knew_ what to look for.  So I deemed it better I do this alone.  It would be quicker.  And yes, safer.

‹Perhaps I do protect you all more than I should,› I admitted.  ‹But I can only do so much.  And I can’t protect you from yourselves.

‹Would you like me to tell the others, or shall you?›

To Aximili’s credit, he said he would, and he trudged wearily back to the house.  I watched him go before running into the forest.

Fools. They were all fools.  They should have listened to me.  But then again, perhaps I should have said something.  They are not trained warriors, who would have listened to me.  But no, ultimately the blame was with them.

I shivered.  If the ray had worked, I knew what Aximili would have done.  The honorable Andalite way to avoid becoming a prisoner of war.  And he would have, I know that.  My brother is the good Andalite citizen.

And now … my brother had gone through torture for no reason.  That would be with him for the rest of his life.  How would it affect him in battle?  I had to wonder, forcing myself to be clinically detached, for the good of the rest.

The rest … their betrayal hurt.  Of course they thought they were doing right, but how can I lead them if I have to wonder if they will somehow disobey or ignore me?  I knew already their little quirks, who would be willing to do what.  But with this, how could I ever be certain?  Cassie was willing to let Aximili be captured, to be subjected to Yeerk methods?  Tobias as well, a closer friend?  And Matilda, who thought I was too hard on all of them, who wanted to keep everyone safe?  (Knowing this plan would hurt me so?)  The others, perhaps I could see and understand, but those three, at the very least?

War changes warriors.  I wish it hadn’t changed them so much that they would be willing to sacrifice a friend.

And I, running faster, wished I hadn’t made them have to go through these changes.

 ****

Returning late that night, I found Aximili in my room, human, sitting on the bed surrounded by papers, and holding some files I had made on the Yeerk ray.  The lamp was on, but I could easily see he wasn’t reading.  The papers were limp in his hands, eyes unfocused.

“Aximili,” I said gently, for he hadn’t heard my arrival.

Aximili never learned to manage the human morph, be it with food or walking or extreme emotions.  Tears were on his cheeks.

I dropped my military persona, sat next to him, gently put my arms around him, and pulled him close.  The motion made him freeze in my embrace, a cross being trying to be brave and being Andalite, unused to touch, but the emotions soon over-flowed and he started crying into my chest, his thoughts full of terror and despair and humiliation and shame.

“It’s all right, Little One,” I murmured, rocking him gently and rubbing his back, letting myself project the caring and concern.  “It’s all right.  I’ve got you now.  Sshh.” His sobs did not quiet, and nor did his thoughts, but I didn’t expect that they would.

They must have woken Matilda, or she was still up because of her conscience, because when I looked up I saw her at the door.  She had obviously been crying, but I didn’t care.  I glared at her hostilely, especially at her concern now, so very, very late.  For a moment she seemed to speak, to defend herself, but under my glare she wilted and finally left the doorframe to go back to her own room.

Eventually Aximili calmed, mumbled that he had to demorph.   I nodded and watched him, then told him to lie on the floor and get some sleep.  He was relieved, I could tell, at my unspoken promise to watch over him tonight, to be near.  It struck me how very young my brother was.  Of course, he was no younger than me when I was an _aristh_ , but, removed by time and experience, I felt as if I had been older.

He dropped off in quick order, and I dimmed the lamp so that only a faint glow survived.  Let there be some light, some hope, tonight, I thought as I wiped off the snot Aximili had deposited on me.  On the bed I demorphed and settled for the night, as there was no room on the floor.  It would not be a night of sleep for me, anyway.

 ****

“What are you doing?” Matilda asked, somewhat timidly.  My temper still had not cooled from Aximili’s torture, a week passed.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re off to meet the Skipper, Gillian.”

She was mocking my hat, I could tell.  I set it down harder on my head and tossed the ice cream buckets in the car.  “I am waiting for my brother.”

“Oh.  How is he?” Her voice was concerned.  Aximili, aside from the first night, stayed away from the house, preferring solitude to get his bearings back.  I did not force my presence on him, understanding that sometimes space is needed more than over-bearing comfort.  That said, I did run for my meals at times closer to his own.  I did not speak or bring up any topic he did not wish, but I hoped he felt comfortable with me and was not too timid to demand my absence.

“He is fine.”

“You Andalites always are.”  Her eyes went back at the car.  “Where are you going?”

“What do you care?”

“I _care_.  Just because –”  She stopped and took a deep breath, trying to regain her temper.  “Look, he wanted to do it.  He _would_ have done it no matter what I said, what any of us said.”

“Then you should have _told_ me what he was planning.”

Matilda rubbed her forehead.  “I didn’t know that was going to happen to him, okay?  I didn’t know he was going to be tortured.”

“He was going to be captured by _Yeerks_ ,” I hissed.  “You all should have been smart enough to realize they weren’t going to give him a … a vacation or whatever!”

“Well, we didn’t!  And we’re sorry.  Damn it, he was trying to look out for you.  We all were.”

How could I explain that it wasn’t their concern without drawing this into another screaming match?  “I can take care of myself.”

“No.  No, you can’t.  Because you can’t let yourself, can you?” she continued ruthlessly before I could protest.  “You won’t hide like Gafinilan and Mertil, won’t just wait for the Fleet.  No, you go out there and fight.  Because you’re a stupid brave idiot.”

I pressed my lips together, but before I could object, point out that neither Gafinilan nor Mertil could fight, that it wouldn’t be right for me to sit alongside the sidelines, my brother came through the house door.  Even though they should not, my eyes imagined the signs of trauma that carried over from his true form.  Perhaps he wasn’t really as pale as it seemed, maybe his shoulders weren’t slumped, or his step slower, but familial concern made them visible to me.

“Brother,” he greeted.

Nodding and smiling, I asked, “Ready to leave?”

He nodded and his eyes went to Matilda.

Understanding that he would feel as if he had to invite her, I removed the burden quickly.  “I planned it to be just us.  It will be enjoyable.”

“Oh.”  My brother looked uncomfortable for a moment.  “I thought we were to go with the others.  Tobias is just coming down.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say.  “I see.  If you wish it, it is of no concern.”

“I do not mind if they join us.”

It took me a moment to realize he included Matilda.  There was a flash of the worry that Aximili did not wish to be alone with _me_ , but I did not favor it for long.  So instead I nodded and got into the car.  Aximili entered as well, sitting directly behind me.  “Are you coming as well, Loren?”

She shifted her eyes between us.  “Are you sure you want me?”

I do not know how my brother looked when he responded, but he welcomed her presence.  And then she looked at me.  “You sure you want me?” she repeated.

“If my brother has no objection, neither do I.”

Matilda spent a few minutes giving me an eye, but when Tobias came out of the house and got to the car, she followed suit, sitting primly in her seat.  Pulling the car out, we were on the road and away from the city, to the country.

“Where are we going?” Tobias asked after we had traveled some miles.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Then why do we need buckets?”

I smiled.  “It’s a surprise.”

“Can we have a hint?”

“We need the buckets.”

“I hope the wind blows your hat away,” Matilda said, scolding.  “It’s really, really ugly.”

“Thank you.”

In the back seat, both of them were smiling.  Perhaps this was what my brother needed, this normalcy that was our life, when our illusion of safety was more secure.  Was that what Aximili desired, to separate himself from his experience in this manner?  Perhaps he just didn’t want to be alone anymore. 

It took about thirty more miles before we got to the fields and I pulled into the dirt parking lot.  Shutting off the car, the others were looking around.

“Where are we?” Tobias asked while Aximili still looked around at the humans in fields.

“Strawberry fields.”

Matilda gave a little laugh.  “Only you would think of this, Elfangor.”

“What is it?” Aximili asked as we all got out, buckets in hand.

“You go out and pick strawberries by hand.  Eat as you go.”

Aximili’s eyes widened at the explanation and he approved.

“Though I don’t think they actually _want_ you to do that,” Matilda said.  “And now I know why you chose that ugly hat.”

I didn’t respond.  At the entrance I paid for our entrance as well as two more buckets, and we split up for our picking.  Every other strawberry was ingested, and Matilda had stolen my “ugly” hat within ten minutes.  It took some time, but the buckets were gradually filled, though we had to use the bathrooms available for customers to remorph.

The strawberries were still being eaten as we drove home.  “What are you going to do with all of them, now?” Matilda demanded, holding my hat down on her head to prevent the wind from taking it.

“Eat them, of course.”

“Even you two Andalites will get sick of non-stop strawberries.”

“Want to bet?” Tobias countered, smirking at my brother, who was still eating the berries.

Matilda turned to look at him, then said, “Fine, then I’ll get sick of them.  I’ll probably hate strawberries.  I think I already do.”  She groaned and held her stomach.

“Then you should have exercised some self-control,” I said.

“Self-control around food, coming from you?  Just don’t play that card.  You’re not allowed, you don’t have the qualifications.”

“I have self-control.”

“Except at the times you decide to, you know, _not_.”

After a glare, I suggested, “There is always strawberry shortcake.  Or ice cream.”

“Can you make a pie from them, maybe?” Tobias asked.

“Elfangor can make anything into a pie,” Matilda scoffed.

“Pies are very tasty,” Aximili defended.  “Would these taste good with chocolate?”

I laughed.  “Yes.  And some cheeses, or with cheesecake.  Wine, like Merlot, I think.”   Was that right?  I couldn’t remember.  It had been a while since it was necessary for me to remember.  “There is plenty to make with excess strawberries for those who cannot stand them plain.”

“I didn’t say that.  Maybe we could make jam?”

“If you like.”

We made it home.  Once saw all of the strawberries stored in the refrigerator, part of me did acknowledge there were too much of the fruit and cooking was going to be a necessity if I didn’t want any to risk spoiling.  Making preserves sounded like a good idea now.

“Do you think we need another refrigerator, maybe?  One for the aliens, one for the humans?” Matilda said, peeking in.  “We could get you guys one of those big industrial frigs, or just make the basement into a big cooler.”

I shut the door and made my tone the combination of innocent and sarcastic.  “Do you really think it will help?”

“It might.”  She set my hat back on my head, and then pulled the brim down so my eyes were covered.  Pushing the hat back, I saw she was already leaving the kitchen.  My brother was standing at the edge of the kitchen, still holding his small bucket of strawberries and munching on them.  Matilda brushed his hair fondly as she left.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” I commented, taking the hat off.

“Yes.  Thank you.”  He chewed thoughtfully.  “How did you know about such a location?”

“It was in the paper.”  And today was not the first time I’ve gone strawberry picking.  Sometimes, all those years ago, I would go with my friends, merely some activity to do as a group.  We would pilfer the largest, reddest berries from each others’ buckets, and sometimes Loren had handfed me one of the juicier ones, and then would kiss the juices away.

Those kinds of  memories were not helpful and I left them quickly.  “If you wish, we can go there again.  Once we deplete our current supply,” I added.

“That would be wise.”

I looked at him, for the hints of his state of mind as he continued to eat.  There was nothing my eyes could detect, but that did not mean anything.  “Are you well, Aximili?” I asked, quiet.  It was the first time I had asked, vocalized my concern. 

Aximili looked up quickly, startled by the question.  “I … I am well, brother.”

“Are you?”

For a second, he looked away from me, to the floor, and chewed on a strawberry to further remove the responsibility of speech.  Perhaps if he really was a human, not an Andalite capable of thought-speak, it would have been enough, but I did not point it out to him.  It wouldn’t be good to rush him for any answer.

“I will be,” he finally said, looking back up.

I met his gaze.  “Yes.  Yes, you will be.”  Coming to him, I took away the bucket.  “And be careful, otherwise you will just make yourself sick.”

He gave me a glance and a smile before snatching it back with rare impertinence, like little brothers tend to be.  “I’m not a human, Elfangor.  And if you want some, there is a refrigerator full.”  And holding the bucket like it was a prize, he left quickly.

Laughing, I realized the humans were an influence on him.  It was only a question as if they were a good one or a bad.  Perhaps it was both.

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ax


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Familial obligations, old and new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 35

There is a saying, there is no rest for the wicked.  It is true.  My life, this war, proves it. 

‹An Arn?› I sighed, having listened to Gafinilan give his report.  Toby Hamme had asked him to deliver it.  Mertil and Gafinilan did not reside in the Valley, as far as the Hork-Bajir besides Toby Hamee knew.  They remained hidden in an outskirt.   It was their choice.  To my knowledge, they did not have any interactions with the slower residents.  Toby Hamee had approached them alone.

‹The Hork-Bajir wishes your input.›  There was definite bitterness in Gafinilan’s voice.  It was my advice they wanted, not his.  But that was what Toby Hamee has set as a condition.  She led, not him.  Otherwise they could not live in the Valley, she would not let them remain in anonymity.  ‹But for my word, I do not trust the Arn.›  He ruffled feathers.

‹And why not?›

He clucked his beak to show disapproval.  ‹Must you always require evidence?  I have a _feeling_ , Elfangor.›  His tone was sarcastic but no doubt honest.  A warrior learns develops a few unusual senses that cannot be explained.

I smiled slightly.  ‹I will keep it in mind.  And how are you and Mertil doing?›

‹Do not change the topic.›

I had considered the topic well and closed, but agreed to not ask.  ‹There must be something in the core of this planet.  It draws every one and thing in.  Even species I thought have been wiped out.›

Gafinilan preened.  ‹He claimed to the last.  From what I have heard, he wishes to reclaim the planet.  For the Hork-Bajir, of course,› he added.

‹It would be their blood spilt,› I said diplomatically.

‹Because the Arn have never fought.›

Warriors always deride those who never fight.  Gafinilan and myself, sometimes, were no exception. I tried to remember what I could about the Arn.  I didn’t pay much attention in Xenobiology to species that were soon to be extinct.

Short, very short.  Six limbs and wings.  Come in a variety of colors, like M&Ms.  Creators of the Hork-Bajir.  Masters of genetic engineering.  I paused at that as I took in Gafinilan’s form.  Should I suggest the possibility?  Was it worth the false hope it could amount to?

He probably didn’t even have the technology.  No, I would say nothing, not to Gafinilan.

‹We’ll look into it.  Tell Toby Hamee we will arrive in tomorrow, before noon.›

Gafinilan nodded and flew into the sky.

 ****

The Arn, Quafijinivon, told us of his desires, of his plans, while we all listened.  In the distance, I spotted another bird of prey also listening and kept my smile private.  Some things would never change.

‹What if Aldrea does not wish to leave the receptacle after she helps us find the weapons?  Is there some way to force her to do so?› Aximili asked quietly.  It was a valid question, and I would have asked it myself.  So far, I had refused to agree to anything aside from listening.

Quafijinivon was purposely vague and Toby Hamee was defensive, claiming that we did not trust Aldrea because she chose to become a Hork-Bajir. 

‹No,› I interrupted firmly, because I felt the comparison to me even if Toby Hamee did not know my truth.  ‹We do not judge Aldrea, not by her actions nor her family.  My brother asks because this is a risk.  There is no saying how this technology may react to the persona, may have warped them.›

The Arn bristled.  “Our technology is perfectly safe!”

“You may not judge, Prince Elfangor,” Toby Hamee said, “but your brother does.  Choosing to be a Hork-Bajir is abhorrent to him.”

I shook my head, finding fault in her beliefs. ‹We are drifting from the topic, but I will say many do not choose to be _nothlit_ s.  Mayhap your great-grandmother did, but it may as well have been accident.  I have known one who could not leave his morph, lest it would have alerted the Yeerks to our presence.›  I still remembered the despair of Arbron.  ‹The problem with history and the dead, is that we cannot question them.›

Toby Hamee did not look convinced.  Perhaps I had insulted her by saying that Aldrea hadn’t wished to become a Hork-Bajir. 

‹Now, is it a risk?› I asked the Arn, forcefully and towering. 

“Everything has risks.  Aldrea cannot be forcefully removed.”

‹I see.›  Everyone was still, waiting for my decision.  The children and Matilda had been careful since Aximili’s torture, deferential towards me.  Toby Hamee knew better than to press me, knew the trials a leader faced.  ‹Very well.  If Toby Hamee wishes our assistance, I will allow the others to volunteer.›

“I’ll do it,” Rachel said before Toby Hamee could give her answer.

“Now who was surprised there?” Marco asked.

“We appreciate it, Prince Elfangor,” Toby Hamee said.

The Arn looked annoyed.  “Good.  Is there a confined space nearby?”

The Hork-Bajir led us to a cave and Quafijinivon started the ceremony.  The process, the ritual of something that was essentially pure science, was interesting – not to mention, pointless, to my mind – and I watched and wondered what the Arn was doing.  Why would such a scientific species fall to this … voodoo?  In the end, I could only account it for the Arn “giving us a show,” as a method to hide his real actions.  We would remember the strange eeriness and would have missed the subtle hand movement.  (Or he thought we were fools like the Hork-Bajir, who needed this sort of show to understand.)

Actively uninterested in learning the Arn secrets, I kept my eyes on the young Hork-Bajir, because I believed Aldrea would choose her own flesh and blood.

I should have been watching the humans.  My hearts stopped when she fell to the ground, and it wasn’t just my voice that yelled, ‹No!›, when the Arn asked the question.

Damn females, though.  They never listen.

 ****

It was to be a long ship-ride.  With the humans, two Andalites, an Arn, a Hork-Bajir, and a ghost from the past, that was all it could be.  Long and annoying.

I had already broken up a fight between Aximili and Aldrea.  I do not honestly think Aximili dislikes Aldrea, but he is a child, and children tend to bicker when they are confused or threatened.  And Aximili was afraid, if only because Aldrea has chosen Matilda as the receptacle.

I can still remember how all of them had stared at me, as if it mattered or were afraid of my response.  Of course I had stood frozen; Toby Hamee was supposed to have been chosen, not one of my humans.  And certainly not Matilda.  For what reason to pick _her_?  I would have picked my own species, or at least my descendents.  It wasn’t _done_ to do such a thing so wholly unconnected to you, it was _poor taste_ and _rude_ , and it made my blood pressure rise.

But what was there nothing to do but accept this, go through this foolish mission of revenge, because that is what it really was.  Gafinilan was right on that course.  I told the children to go with Aldrea, help her get accustomed to a human body while I prepared to leave. 

But before that, I drew the Arn aside.

“I have told you, I cannot –”

‹That is not what I wish to discuss,› I said dispassionately.  ‹The Arn are masters of genetic engineering.›

Now he was curious, suspicious.  “We are.”

‹Tell me, then, do you have the capabilities to cure a genetic disease?›

“Why do you ask?”

‹Can you?› I repeated.

“It depends on the disease, the problem, the malady.  Are you needing treatment, oh great Andalite warrior?”

I glared down at him, at his tone and his mocking hope.  ‹I am perfectly healthy, so keep your happiness contained.›  I stepped away and had barely moved thirty feet when Gafinilan spoke.

‹How _dare_ you?›

‹I leave nothing not ventured, Commander.  Speak to him soon, for I doubt he will return to Earth.›

I didn’t know if Gafinilan did speak to the Arn before we took off.  Quafijinivon avoided me.  The children were quiet, Aximili by the controls, and Matilda/Aldrea were off by themselves, communicating in some fashion. Their eyes went from each of us, and I didn’t flinch or act like I noticed when they stayed on me for a length of time.  Just focused my attention out in the white of Z-space.

I couldn’t help but remember the last time I was on a ship with humans traveling through Z-space.  Funny how things travel full circle.

Aldrea suffered from nightmares.  I wasn’t surprised and I assisted in waking the pair when it seemed to being getting terrible.  I never spoke, even when their voice thanked me.  Just trotted back to my own corner and watched over the others.

The children were at least satisfied that I had packed food, edible food to them.  (I remembered how the humans hadn’t liked liquefied grasses, even if Loren had pretended, but even an alien could recognize that particular face wasn’t one of pleasure.)  And then there were the books and games and other things I thought would help, that I could get in the time allowed.

Next time, I would not bring Jenga.  The children were upset that Aximili kept winning, while Aximili said it wasn’t his fault they didn’t understand basic architecture

 ****

“You have been avoiding me.”

I raised my main eyes from the novel I was reading, turning a stalk down to continue.  It was obviously Aldrea speaking, and what she would have to say to me would not tax my attention too much.  ‹Have I?›

She didn’t respond, staring at me with Matilda’s face.  “They tell me you were once a _nothlit_.  I do not believe them.”

‹You have the right.  There is no proof, just my word.  And what with the worth of the word of an Andalite who gives technology to inferior species?›  I hoped if I angered her enough she would leave me be, but it was not so.  Either she had a reasonable hold on her temper or I would have to be crueler in my comments.  ‹Do you wish to say something to me, Aldrea?›

“Why did you?”

I didn’t understand what she wished me to say or admit.  ‹Why did your father give the Yeerks technology?  Because at the time, it was the right thing to do?  Because we are both fools and felt sorry for them?  The answers are there.  Pick one.› 

Matilda’s face frowned at me.  “No.  Why did you become a _nothlit_?”

‹Why did you?› I countered.  ‹It wasn’t a conscious choice, was it?›

It was admission by silence.

‹I see.  I shall not speak the dirty truth.  And my reasons for being a _nothlit_ are none of your concern.›

“Then forgive me.”  She was angry at my silence, that I could see even as I turned my main eyes back to the written word. I wondered if she honestly thought that because we both had become _nothlit_ s, we would be in some sort of bond and spill secrets like silly pre-teenage humans.  Utterly ridiculous and childish, but I recalled that Aldrea was, essentially, a child.  True, a child old before her time, a mother to her Hork-Bajir offspring, but, by Andalite standards, still a child.  

She still remained close, studying me for a long moment.  “They speak nothing but good of you, you know.”

‹They are speaking to you.  You do no speak negative of your leaders to strangers.›

She didn’t let the dance continue, returning to her original topic.  “Why have you been avoiding me?”

‹Don’t be foolish,› I said, waving a hand, looking back up.  ‹I haven’t.  I merely have no reason to speak with you.›

“Is it because Loren’s body is my receptacle?”

I frowned because this was becoming ridiculous.  Sometimes I am marveled that others think my actions are dictated so intently by … by ridiculous things.  ‹Believe me, if you were in Toby Hamee’s body, I would still have nothing to speak with you about.  You being in her body concerns me only if you have no intention of leaving it.›

“The children have hinted that you are fond of this human.”  Her eyes were studied me intently, and I wondered if she was judging me because of an alleged infatuation with a human when she had been mated to a Hork-Bajir. It would be very Andalite of her.

I barked a laugh that may have sounded bitter.  ‹We are in a war.  My fondness extends only to being sure none of them kill themselves doing something foolish.›

She sneered.  “Spoken like a true Andalite.”

I cocked my head.  ‹We are what we are.  Andalites.  The ability to morph, to stay in morph, does not negate that.›

Her eyes narrowed.  “I am Hork-Bajir.”

 I inwardly smirked, having hit a nerve.  ‹Funny.  You look human to me.›

“And you look Andalite.  But you don’t sound like one.”

‹You said I spoke like one.›  There was a hint of mockery in my voice that others, who knew me well, might have heard, but I doubted Aldrea did.

Aldrea shook Matilda’s head.  “You parrot their words, but you are no more Andalite than I am.  Being a _nothlit_ cha–”

My tail was at her throat before her insult could be completed.  ‹I am and have always been an Andalite,› I whispered lowly, not paying attention to the surprised cries around us.  ‹My form matters not, and I will not tolerate you hinting less.›

“You will not kill me.”  Brave words, but her voice quavered.

‹Why not?  Because of the mission?  Perhaps it will give pause, but not long.  You are nothing but a Yeerk in this form.› Because that is what she was, what she would be if she did not leave.  ‹Or do you think my _fondness_ for the human will protect you?  I have learned enough lessons from using fondness as an excuse not to kill the enemy.  Make no mistake, if you do not leave this human, I will kill you both.›  My tail pressed harder, and her eyes widened.

‹You hide with pride at your _nothlit_ stance, throw off the dishonor you see in being Andalite.  Do not dare presume others do the same, not in my presence.  My friend was trapped as a Taxxon, and every day I consider him a true Andalite.  He is an Andalite.  Unlike you.  You are nothing but a bitter child, a victim of a war that shattered your world of ideals of your true people, that stole whatever peace you had.  I respect what you did, Aldrea, but I have no respect for you and your pretty words.  Insult my friend again by saying he is not an Andalite when trapped in his form, insult _me_ by hinting I am not Andalite,› I finished, withdrawing my tail away with a snap, and her hand went to stem the slight bleeding, ‹and you will meet my tail.›

“I didn’t mean to cause offense, Prince Elfangor,” she said slowly.  “I only wished to have a conversation.  We have much in common.”

My nostrils flared and I narrowed my eyes. How dare she insult me so?  ‹No.  We have little in common.  You think because I chose to be a _nothlit_ to your accident, because we lived years not on our home world by choice and by force, because we fought Yeerks by twisting the innocent humans and Hork-Bajir, all respectively, that we have things in common?›

“Maybe not, but we both l—”  Her voice stopped, words became garbled, because obviously Matilda seized control. 

I stared dispassionately before stepping away.  The conversation had bored me and it had only given me a reason to stay away from the ghost, because I very well might snap my tail at her if she continued trying to talk to me.

 ****

After three days we finally left Z-space.  Quafijinivon spoke more about the mission, that it would be a little longer until we reached the planet.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone Z-space the whole way,” Marco whined, and both Aximili and Aldrea laughed.  And then they stopped, as if embarrassed that they could find humor in the same things.  Children.

I smiled at him kindly.  ‹It is because of two reasons, Marco.  The first, when you are going over one-hundred miles an hour in a car, would you stop right at the doorway of your home?›

“How good are my brakes?” he countered, understanding my analogy.

‹They better be good, otherwise you will stop halfway through your home.  The other reason is because of the time difference between objects moving at sub-light speeds and at light speeds.  The closer we get to the planet, the faster it would go for them.›

“Einstein theory, right?” Tobias asked and I nodded.

“I like the car reason better,” Marco said.

“Easier on your little brain?” Rachel asked sweetly.

The friendly conversation was interrupted by Shredder fire.  My eyes all snapped to the screen and I was already moving to push the Arn out of the way.  He went willingly.  ‹An Andalite fighter!› I called, going into classic evasive maneuvers.

This is what I lived for.  I was a fighter pilot for a reason, and not because I was damn good one (and I am, make no mistake).  Even in this second-rate Yeerk ship, I was good and I unconsciously started smiling.  ‹You want a chase, Fighter? Catch me.  If you can.›

He fired at me, of course, but I didn’t return, at least not at him.  Old firing codes, to see how old or new our adversary was.  New, because he didn’t know them.  I rolled my eyes and gave commentary at how these new fighters obviously didn’t know anything, while in the background the others periodically screamed because of my maneuvers, even Aximili.

Perhaps I was showing off.  Whatever it was, I felt free and in control, something I sorely lacked.  Once I had tricked the Andalite fighter into moving a good distance away from the planet, I mused, ‹I do wonder how good these brakes are,› and punched Z-space.  The Arn, Aldrea, and Aximili all screamed at my foolishness, the humans at the sheer unknown of what I was doing. 

I counted for three seconds, then “braked.”  Even if I had made the time pass quicker on the planet, what did it matter to us?  After all, we were not dead and the people of the world were not so very important to us.  And it had only been three seconds.  At most, it had equated to a few hours.  Therefore, I said smugly, ‹I have lost him.  We are at the planet.› 

There was a silence.

“Elfangor, you are never allowed to drive again,” Jake said shakily.

Cassie reintegrated, “Ever.”

“Dude, could you teach me?” Marco asked.  The question amused me, because many of my commanders have sworn they would never let me teach at the Academy.  They would personally speak with any official that approached me.  They claimed that they didn’t need more pilots that flew like me.  I disagreed.

“Not that Marco needs help driving like an idiot!” Rachel countered.

“You could have killed us all!” Quafijinivon finally sputtered.

“You’re smiling,” Tobias said, shaking his head, though he was struggling not to smile as well.

I laughed.  ‹Lead us to where we need to be, Arn.  Unless you wish for me to fly us there?›  I smiled wider at his quick shuffling back to the bridge.  ‹No, then.›

Rachel spoke, “Elfangor, when you’re insanely happy, it’s terrifying.  Just so you know.”

“And when Rachel, Xena-warrior, says that, you know you’ve past the terrifying and moved into heart-stopping, bowel-moving insanity,” Marco said.

“Isn’t that our life?” Tobias asked rhetorically.

 ****

I was beyond angry with Aldrea, but I was, if possible, angrier with myself.  I should have expected her to not know where the weapons were. 

But of course, she had a theory.  Well, I had a theory of my own, that theories don’t amount to lost fur in real life.

So now we followed her as Hork-Bajir through the trees, and to the Valley she led to us.  And I understood the posture she adopted, knew why, and some of my anger left me.  Some, not all.  ‹I am sorry you must see your home like this,› I said softly.  ‹But do you see where you may have hidden the ship?›

She was silent, eyes moving, then directed Tobias, who had opted to fly to keep watch, to describe a spot.  Even I smiled at the thought that the weapons would be hidden under a love letter carved in a tree.  The smile quickly fell when Aldrea said the opening was on the other side of the tree, in the Yeerk pool.

‹Well, it keeps with our track record,› Marco said glibly. 

I almost voiced my agreement.  ‹Let’s think of a plan.›

And think of one, we did.  A clever, insane little plan that Cassie was certain she could do.  Aldrea screamed at the insanity until Matilda obviously grew tired of letting a dead person control her mouth.  It didn’t last long.  ‹Elfangor, she is a child.›

The argument did nothing for me.  ‹And how old were you when you started the fight?  I trust Cassie.  However, if you are so desperate to be the one to be in harm’s way, and are so very sure of your identity,› I said sarcastically, ‹perhaps we could kidnap a Yeerk for you to acquire and then you could ride along with the child.  Point out everything she does wrong.›

Aldrea glared at me but did not continue the conversation.

‹Let’s go and try not to get killed, shall we?›

‹Amen to that.›  And that, I felt, was from Matilda.

 ****

Waiting for the departure, I looked around the planet.  Once, I am sure, it was beautiful, but the Yeerks had long ruined it.  Toby Hamee stood a distance away from me, anger emanating off of her.  We had had words, and I hadn’t held my thoughts when she said she wished to stay here, to lead the cloned Hork-Bajir and reclaim their ancestral home.

_‹You selfish child!› I snapped, overhearing the conversation.  ‹How dare you contemplate such an action?›_

_Everyone looked at me, surprised.  Toby Hamee stood tall, though she was still young and did not pass me in height.  “This is my world.  It must be reclaimed.”_

_‹Yes, it must, and it may, but it does not require your presence.  You have those to lead on Earth.  You would dare leave them to fend for themselves?›  In my comment, I clearly stated my stance on the other Hork-Bajir’s ability to protect themselves._

_Toby Hamee, for a moment, looked uncertain, but this foolish desire had obviously stolen her senses.  “Someone must lead these Hork-Bajir, be sure the Arn does not take advantage of them.”  She cast a glare at the being, and Quafijinivon’s feathers bristled._

_‹Quafijinivon will be dead soon, and you will already be leading them.  Have you forgotten you gave your DNA to be cloned as well?  Why do you_ think _he had to come to Earth, when all he needed was Hork-Bajir DNA.  He needed yours.  Whatever the Arn believes, he wouldn’t be able to make your clone a normal Hork-Bajir.  They have never been able to remove the anomaly, and he has little expertise, despite what he says.›_

_His feathers bristled.  “How dare –”_

_‹And he won’t dare not make a clone of you, because the Hork-Bajir will need someone to lead them,› I interrupted, glaring at him.  Because I knew that had to be a plan of his, to just see if he_ could, _to do something none of his brethren had been able to do before he died, and it would have wasted a leader.  ‹Because if he does that, then this is a waste.›_

_The Hork-Bajir seer was furious as me, because I pointing about evident things she was ignoring._

_“Could you not lead them?” Aldrea asked, and I snapped my stalks at her.  So it was her that fed this foolish notion into Toby Hamee’s head._

_‹I can barely lead humans,› I retorted.  ‹You would trust an Andalite to lead Hork-Bajir, to not use them as cannon fodder?›_

_The children gasped and made protests, denied I would do such things.  Honestly, I cannot be sure what I would do, but I do know I am not what the Hork-Bajir need as a leader.  And nor are Gafinilan or Mertil.  I looked at the Seer and spoke softly._

_‹You will not be needed here, Toby Hamee, but you are needed on Earth.  You have a responsibility to them first, to care for them, lead them.  You are a leader; you know your desires must come second.›_

Toby Hamee was still angry with me, but she understood.  That didn’t stop her from being bitter about me being right.

“Thank you,” Aldrea said quietly.

I looked at her warily.  It was a very strange change in her manner to me.  ‹For what?›

She looked nervous.  “For speaking as you did to Toby Hamee.”

‹I would not have had to if you hadn’t filled her head with such nonsense.›

Aldrea looked at me angrily.  “This is her home.  It is her right to want to defend it.”

‹Don’t be ridiculous, you foolish child.›  Her cheeks turned red.  ‹She is a Seer, a leader.  They have no rights, only responsibilities.  Were you not mated to one?  You should understand that much.›

“Is it not her responsibility then to save her world?”

‹Whether or not Toby Hamee likes it, she is part of two worlds, Earth and here.  However, she has responsibilities for her people on Earth.  What does she have here?  Ideals.›  I paused.  ‹And your battle.›

Aldrea pressed her lips together.  “It is not wrong for me to wish my descendent to have her home returned to her.”

‹No, it is not.›  And it wasn’t.  Parents may wish a great many things for their children.  I, however, drew the line at vicariously living through them.

Tactfully, the argument ended.  “You have chosen a good people,” Aldrea said to me.

 ‹As have you.›

She studied my face.  “I do not understand something.  Loren has told some of your past.”

‹It would explain why you do not understand,› I said.  The mood did not lighten and I sighed in defeat.  Females are annoying. ‹What do you wish to understand?›

For a moment, Aldrea paused, and when she spoke in was in _Galard_.  What she wished to speak about she wanted Matilda to not understand.  “You are obviously fond of this human, care for her a great deal.  Why do you not be with her?”

I was not entirely surprised at her question.  Again, it was the childish romantic notions.  I only wondered at her choice of the word obviously, because I did not see anything in my actions that said so.  ‹Because I do not care to be.›

“But why?”

‹This is war.  For some, that way would benefit.  I have learned that it is not the case for me.›

She fell into English, almost excited, desperate.   “Then you don’t deny –”

‹Rest in peace, Aldrea.›

 ****

I looked up at the sky at the edge of the forest by my home, charting the course we had just been on.  Now, Gafinilan and Mertil made their trip, in secrecy.  I had seen them off.  I knew, when we had stepped off the ship and my eyes fell on the bird of prey, what they would choose.

Gafinilan was, and still is, a warrior.  He would do anything to be able to fight.  Mertil would go with him.  The Arn most likely could not repair his tail, but he would be with his friend.  So they had waited for our return.

For the first time since his disability, I had faced Mertil.  I won’t deny it; it was awkward, for both of us.  I still have my instilled prejudices and he still has his shame and honor.  But we tried, and it was not _that_ difficult to speak of nothing.  I spent a lot of it distinctly _not_ looking at his tail, or what was left of it.  Even after I left his presence, I had to suppress the shudder.  To be without my tail, the thought would be forever unbearable.  It’s even more so when I remembered it could be my future, my punishment by High Command orders.

‹Will you return to Earth, if it is successful?› I had asked Gafinilan .  ‹Or will you assist the Hork-Bajir?›  The two would not seek out Andalites, that I was confident about.

‹Either battle is doomed for failure,› Gafinilan said with a lightness.  Perhaps he believed the only battle worth fighting was one that could be lost.  There was no honor is a certain victory, after all.

I smiled.  ‹Yes, but I need to know if you are to keep your human residence.  I have no issues holding it for you, if you are, but if not, I will have to get rid of your modifications.  As such, I would rather you return, as it is more work for me.  Though if you should, you shall have the luxury of the space flight instead of this land drudgery.›  All of us, as fighter pilots, laughed.  ‹Remember, Earth has chocolate and doughnuts.›

While Gafinilan  gave another laugh, Mertil said in his wistful, quiet voice, ‹I wish I had been able to receive the gift, if only to experience something that makes Gafinilan act like a cadet during a driftball game.›

And, I’d thought to myself, you could have saved your tail.  Of course, if he received the gift now, when he returned to his Andalite form, Mertil would still be tailless, like any Andalite who lost a stalk is still stalkless.  The process deposits the morpher’s mass in Z-space.  Without the mass of his tail, he wouldn’t have it.  But, if he managed directly after the amputation, it was very likely that even a small attachment would have allowed the tail to be drawn into Z-space as well.  Instead, though, I said, ‹You would seek the momentary insanity that is a human taste bud?  I suppose you’ll do.›

‹Do for what?› Mertil asked, somewhat wary.

Smiling, I said, ‹You choose that insanity, not the insanity of war.  It is by far a better choice.›

‹I do not understand, Prince Elfangor.›

‹Never mind.  I’m speaking nonsense brought on by human teenagers.›  Suddenly, I wondered and spoke aloud, ‹Why could you not get the morphing ability?›

Mertil blinked.  ‹I have over-active receptors and lysozymes, or so they say.  The machines are destroyed faster than they can multiple and secure themselves.  Like 0.002% of the population.›  There was a touch of bitterness in his voice at that point.

‹So it _is_ genetic?›

With my statement, the other two quickly understood. 

‹Another thing to plead the Arn to do,› Gafinilan  said with a touch of disgust, not at the choice, but of the Arn himself.  I was glad I did not seek anything from the vile creature.  Even if he currently “owed” me for this whole Aldrea and Hork-Bajir issue, that Arn would have demanded I demean myself. 

‹It is just a theory,› I said.  ‹You had best depart, before the day breaks.  Travel fast and smooth over the grass.›

‹Let the battles go well so the suns may shine over you.›

And I had watched as they flew into the sky and then disappeared into space.  Once out of sight, I ran until I reached home, avoiding the Hork-Bajir, being quiet around Aximili’s scoop, only stopping to where I was now to look back up in the sky.  ‹Good luck, you two.›

I morphed human and hobbled to the back door, wincing over the stones and sticks.  There were times when hooves would be very beneficial.  I was just about to come up the steps when the door opened and Champ rushed out, happily bouncing around me.  I bent to pet his head before looking up to see Matilda standing there wrapped in a blanket.

“You are up early,” I commented.

She shrugged.  “Late, early, same thing.  And so are you.  Did they leave?”

“So you knew?”

“Aldrea said the Arn were genetic engines.  Gafinilan  has cancer or something.  I’m not stupid,” she said, slightly reproachful.

“I did not say you were.”  I took a ball and threw it out to the yard, where Champ ran after it.  He did not care if my throw was sloppy or poorly aimed, so long as he could run after it.  Ah, the simple pleasures of a dog.  Perhaps the Pemalites were onto something.  “So why are you up?”

“Getting used to the novelty of having my head to myself again.”

I nodded as I tried to retrieve the ball from Champ’s mouth, for he coyly played keep-away.  “It must have been trying, having an Andalite in your head.”

Matilda gave a small laugh.  “Yeah, I guess so.  I don’t know how you do it.”  I gave her a look before I threw the ball again, and she added, “She didn’t mean to insult you, you know.”

“People never _mean_ to insult anyone.  At least most of the time,” I said, looking at her.  “I forgive her enough, if it matters.  She was a child.”

“Hardly.  She seemed –”

“War makes warriors old before their time.  Look at the children, even if they do continue to act immature far too often.  She was young, for an Andalite.  Comparable to only a freshman in college, if I am generous.”

“And what are you, the professor?”

“I am younger than you, speaking as an Andalite,” I said, tossing the ball again.  “I am perhaps the human equivalent of 27.  You are almost –”

“I _know_ how old I am,” she interrupted sharply.  “Thank you very much.”  She was quiet.  “How long do Andalites live?”

“Some have lived to be 250 Earth years.  Of course, that is only about 67 Andalite years.”

“You’re kidding!”

“About which part?”

“Two-hundred fifty _years_?”

I gave a smile.  “Our genetics are better than humans, as is our medicine.  Hundreds of years ago, Andalites would have only made it to maybe 75 Earth years.  Before that, only 40 or 45.   And all Andalites do not live to 250 Earth years, of course, but there are enough that live over 200 years for it to not be too uncommon.  On average, most live to 150.”  No, that is not true, I realized after I spoke.  The average, since this war started, have lowered dramatically, to only seventy-five years.  Terribly young, and those that had died to bring about such an average were even younger.  So many warriors and _arisths_ struck down before their prime.  But it was not necessary to tell her that, to reveal how much we Andalites had suffered.

“Yeah, but still …”  She trailed off.  “So one year on your world takes … three?”

“Closer to four, but roughly yes.  Our year lengths may also alter every few cycles because we circle two suns.  If it makes you feel better, our days are longer as well, about thirty hours.”

“Oh.” 

For a moment we stood in silence, until Champ nudged my leg and whined for me to play some more.  I complied, because I spoil the creature.

“Would you have done it?”

“Done what?”

There was a pause before Matilda said, “Killed me.”

I didn’t hesitate.  “Yes.”

“Really?”  I thought I heard surprise, but I thought there was also confirmation. 

“Yes,” I repeated, as if I had to bring myself to believe it, although I already did so.  I truly did.  Truly.  I focused on watching Champ relieve himself.  “If she would have proven a threat, I would have.  I wouldn’t have killed her then, when I threatened her, I was merely angry.  But if she hadn’t left or had put us in danger, I would have.”

“Even without my permission?”

Part of me faltered slightly.  “I do not seek permission from hosts when I kill Controllers.  It perhaps is a cruel comparison, but, if Aldrea had not left, she would have been a Yeerk to me.”

“Yeah, she didn’t like you calling her that,” Matilda agreed.  “So aren’t you going to apologize to me? You did threaten _me_.”

“I won’t apologize when I would have wanted the same thing.  If I am ever taken, never hesitate to strike me down.” My voice was firm and cold.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” I snapped.  “I will never let myself be subjected to such degradation.  And to risk lives on the secrets I know?  My life is not so important as to theirs.”

“You could still apologize,” she said after a longer moment.  “Just because you did threaten me.  My neck was _bleeding_.”

“Will it make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Then I apologize.  Even if I don’t mean it.”

Matilda laughed quietly to herself.  “Even if you don’t believe me, Aldrea did … respect you, in her way.  With choice Hork-Bajir words.”

“I am not surprised.  No, no more, tonight, Champ,” I said, taking the ball from him and putting it on the shelf.  It was late, or early, and I was getting tired.  Champ gave me his pitiful hopeful face, but he did not whine and quickly darted into the house.

“We did have a lot of very interesting and long talks,” Matilda continued. 

“Again, I am unsurprised,” I said as I followed the dog, and the woman followed me.

“Do you want to know what we talked about?”

“Female things, I suppose.”

She laughed again, a bit more gaily.  “Yeah, I suppose you could phrase it that way.  There were some things Aldrea was very helpful on.”

Now I was curious.  “Such as what?”

But Matilda would not give me a straight answer.  “She told me things you would probably say I would never know or understand.”  Her grin grew larger at my confused face, and before I could ask what she meant by such a statement, she kissed my cheek and disappeared down the hall.  “Good morning, Elfangor.  Sleep tight.”

 ****

I gave Marco a cup of cocoa.  “Do you know, I could write a thesis about everything you children are doing that goes against or is very rare in standard morphing technology theory – being pulled into Z-space, allergic reactions, the ability to carry non-DNA components outside of the body into the process, what happened if you are accidentally cut in half while in morph, the influence of stress.  Perhaps all Andalite scientists should give their new technologies to humans as a pre-test and see how all of the theories and protocols are thoroughly smashed and broken.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I really didn’t think –”

“You children never think.”

He scowled at me.  “Sometimes we just want to avoid your scolding, you know.”

I took a sip of my own drink. “And yet, in the end, you still have to sit through them.  So why do you think you practically got yourself killed at Mr. Tennant’s home?”

Marco flushed.  “Look, it’s no big deal –”

“Marco, you were nearly killed.  You nearly got _me_ killed.  I consider both of those big deals. So … I do not think you have an allergy.”

“No croc-DNA for me.”

I didn’t bother correcting his statement, because he was obviously trying to be quip.  I just stared.

“Look, I’m _fine_.  There’s nothing.  You don’t have to go all Dr. Freud-Get-Marco-On-The-Couch, all right?  Everything’s fine.”

He wanted to talk, I could see that.  More than that, he needed to, because this was influencing him in a dangerous way.  So I sat and continued to drink my cocoa.

Marco never reacted well to quiet.  “I mean, so what if my Dad’s dating Ms. Rottenette?”

“Isn’t it Ms. Robbinette?” I asked, merely to draw him out.

“Yeah, so what? It’s not _my_ problem, it’s his.  It’s boring.  I mean, it’s rotten enough that she’s my teacher, my _math_ teacher, but that doesn’t even touch Euclid.”

“The father of Geometry?” I asked.

“No, the poodle!  Wait, yeah, him too, I guess.  Both of them are Satan.  Pure fact, you know.  Both of them only live to torture me.”

Ah, the dramatics of youth.  “I suppose your father must thank you.”

“What for?”

“It was obviously you who made it possible for them to meet.”

He groaned and banged his head.  “Another reason to ban parent-teacher conferences.  I wouldn’t have failed if I knew this was going to happen!”

“Marco, no offense, but I think you still would have failed.”

“No, because I would have paid Ax in cookies to do my homework.  Perfect 100%.  The tests, I could have gotten a 70%, 65% on the outside.  Average that out, and I’d get an 80%.  Everyone would have been happy.”

“They still would have spoken because of your discrepancies in homework and test scores.  And I would not have let Aximili do your homework, in any case.”

“But you wouldn’t have _known_.”  He met my gaze and faltered.  “All right, you probably would have.  Not that it matters now.”

“Don’t you want your father to be happy?”

“We were happy!  We were perfectly happy already.  Everyone knows just adding one more would make a third wheel.”

“You’re not going to become a third-wheel, Marco,” I said, surprised.  “Your father cares very deeply for you.”

“I know that.”

“Don’t you like Ms. Robbinette?”

“No, she’s a teacher.”

I shook my head.  “Marco, I know this is hard for you.”

“God, please don’t do this.  Don’t act all caring and sensitive and crap like Cassie,” he moaned, sinking in the seat.  “I can’t take it from you.  Can’t you just yell?”

“This is not a time for yelling.”  There was also the fact that I felt vaguely guilty about Marco’s current home circumstance.  If I had not tricked his father, he might not have ever fallen in love with Marco’s teacher.  True, it would mean Marco would still be a home situation I did not approve of, and it was very possible that Marco’s math grades would have promised their meeting, but I had told the human to work past his grief, get over his wife.  It opened this pathway.  “I know you want to save your mother, Marco.”

His face closed up.  “You’re going to tell me it’s stupid to think we are, aren’t you?”

I blinked.  “No, no I would not think that, nor would I say it.”

Marco’s face showed his surprise.  “Then you think we can save her?” 

There was a painful hope and yearning in his voice.  Marco believed in his heart that his mother could be rescued, but he also understood that she was, in essence, our enemy.  Someone that maybe we couldn’t rescue, someone we could have to kill.  From what I have seen of Marco, he knew that.  But sometimes … sometimes when we are young … or even when we are not so young … we want someone to say what we dreamed was possible, that everything would be okay.  But I couldn’t promise Marco that.  “I think there is always the chance.”  I looked down and away.  “Perhaps I misspoke.  I know you want your family as it was.  But you have to understand something.  You are old enough.”

“What?”

I looked at him, eyes firm, but I tried to speak in a kind voice.  “Your family will _never_ be as it was.  It has been over two years, and one thing I know, is that a lot can change in that amount of a time.  People change; circumstances change.”

Marco narrowed his eyes.  “What are you saying, Elfangor?”  But it was a rhetorical question, because Marco was always quick.

Sighing, I drank the last of my cocoa.  “If and when your mother is free, then what?  She has been a slave over four years.  She has seen terrible things, done terrible things.”

“That wasn’t her!”

“If she is as good as you, she will still feel like she did do them.  Both of your parents are different than what they were.”

“So, what?  You think that just because of that, they’re what, going to divorce?” he spat.  “They _love_ each other.”

“No,” I said, standing to make myself another cup of cocoa. 

“They _do_!”

I sighed as I scooped the cocoa power, added the water.  “No, Marco.  They love the _memory_ of each other.  But memory and reality are cruel cousins, sometimes baring little resemblance to each other.  I do not doubt that once they meet again, free and without this war, that they will be happy, will be as in love as they were before.”

For a while, there was only the sound of my spoon hitting the ceramic glass.  “But then, time will go on.  They will notice the little things.  Perhaps they will work past them.  I would hope they do.  But they might not.  Not everything always ends happily ever after.”  Fully stirred, I dropped in five small marshmallows and took a sip.

“Just because that happened to y—to some people doesn’t mean it’ll happen to my parents!” Marco countered in a hard voice, but I could tell he was accepting the warning just as much as he was rebelling against it.

I turned and looked at him, leaning against the counter.  “Families change, Marco.  It could be that had your mother never been taken, they could already be divorced.  But you should not punish yourself.  And you should not refuse your father the opportunity to be happy.”

“He was already happy.”

“Was he?  Back in your old home, was he happy?  Were you happy?  Would you rather go back to then?”

Marco looked down.

“It may be years before your mother is rescued.  Does your father deserve to live as he has been?  He is moving on to the best of his ability with what he knows, and what he knows is that his wife is dead.”

“If he knew the truth –”

“It would not make him any happier.  It would make him feel worse, to constantly worry and imagine your mother’s fate.  To wonder if he could have saved her, if only he had noticed that one little thing.  Perhaps it is cruel, but do you want your father to suffer as you do?”

“ _He’s_ the one marrying the math teacher,” Marco muttered.

“So, I suppose that means, all in all, both of you shall suffer evenly.”

He looked at me, then smiled his cocky smile, but it didn’t really reach his eyes.  “Yeah.  So I guess it probably isn’t fair if I told him.  Then we wouldn’t be even.

“But, Elfangor, if I have to choose between Nora and Mom, I’m choosing my mom.”

“I know.”  I didn’t dare ask if his father would make the same choice, because clearly Marco was already thinking it.  “I know it is against all human teenager-parent relationships, but talk with your father.  I cannot keep saving strange mutant morphs.  My hearts can’t take it.”

“Talk to my dad.  Right.”

“Would it be better if I made it an order?”

“It’d give me a reason _not_ to.  Disobeying you is always so much fun,” Marco charmed.  “Dad just sends me to my room without PlayStation.  You make me go fight Yeerks and play decoy.”

“Ah, yes, speaking of which …”  I smiled as Marco groaned.  “This Tennant still needs to be dealt with.  Given how unbalanced this Yeerk is, I think we should play with our strengths.  How are you at being obnoxious?”

He didn’t understand where I was going with this, but Marco always played to his strengths.  “Elfangor, I’m the King of Obnoxious.  You want obnoxious; just say the word.”

I smiled.  “Find a very annoying morph, one that is a decent size and rather self-autonomous and most humans find cute, but able to torment and hold its own even when someone wants to kill it.  As the King of Obnoxious, I’m sure you can think of a few creatures.”

For a moment, Marco smiled.  “Well, I can think of _one_ in particular.  What are you thinking about?”

“He’s unbalanced.  I plan on pushing him over the edge, with witnesses.  Now, you, go home.  Talk with your father.  Get a stress ball.  I do not want any more morphing problems.”

“Yeah, right.  You know, I can’t wait until _you_ have the morphing problems and we can all give you disapproving looks.”

“Go home, Marco.”  Even still, I smiled at him and took care of his dirty mug once I heard the door open and close.

“That was nice.  Oh, God, I’m sorry!  Are you all right?”

Sucking on the cut to stem the blood, I waved a hand and then took the paper toweling Matilda quickly gave me.  “You humans should wear bells,” I scowled.

She rolled her eyes at me.  “Let me see.  It’s probably not even that bad.”

I held my hand away from her.  “I’m _fine_.  I can handle a little bleeding without help.”

“Men.  Same in any species,” she teased.  “Is Marco okay now?”

“No, but I think he will be.”

Matilda nodded and started picking the broken glass from the sink while I sat down.  “At least you broke the one that doesn’t match anything,” she commented.  “It was nice of you to talk with him.”

“Nice has nothing to do with it.  It’s my job.”  A suspicion formed in my head and I glared at her.  “How long were you eavesdropping?”

She didn’t answer, which meant she _had_ been eavesdropping.  Why she couldn’t have just come in the kitchen and taken part like a normal being was beyond me.  What infatuation did humans have with spying?  “It still was nice of you.  You could have yelled at him.”

I sighed.  “Yelling rarely accomplishes anything in circumstances like this.  If he had some something truly stupid, maybe I would have.  But all Marco did was react poorly to a stressful situation.  Me yelling at him would have only made it worse, which would only work against what I was trying to accomplish.  Though I do wish they wouldn’t try to keep secrets from me.”

With a laugh, Matilda said, “What did you expect?  They’re teenagers.  Don’t tell me you never kept secrets from your parents.”

“I didn’t!” I said, then paused.  “Well, nothing that could have gotten us killed.”  Telling my parents I thought Peneloi – who was several years older than me, and I had been even younger than Aximili was now – was pretty would have only made my life _miserable_. 

She laughed again.  “Well, I think most of the time the kids think that you already know all of their secrets.  You certainly catch them enough.”

“It is only a ploy,” I admitted, removing the paper towel to see if the bleeding had stopped.  “And what I do know I learn usually by accident.  I do not actively snoop into their lives.”

“No.  You wouldn’t.  How’s your boo-boo?”

“Fine.” I held out my hand so she could see.  “Didn’t even need a kiss to make it better.”  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I winced and quickly busied myself with throwing away the paper towel.

After a pause that probably was only long to me, Matilda said, “Do you really think we’ll ever be able save her?  This is me, not Marco.”

“No.  No, I don’t think so.”  I didn’t even mention if Visser One was still alive.  We worked under the assumption that she still was, that she had somehow redeemed herself, gotten herself a stay of execution.  “Not unless Visser One does something foolish or we have to save her from Visser Three from a very certain death.  She’s rarely on Earth.  There is very little chance.”

“Poor woman.  Poor Marco.”

“Yes.”

She looked at me.  “Even if it’s stupid, I’m still going to wish for a happily ever after.”

I smiled back, but it didn’t reach my eyes.  “If I could, I would as well.”

“Why can’t you?”

“There are no happily ever afters.  There are only … only the afters.”

“They could still be happy.”

“Maybe.  But I think we all need when this is over is an after.  That’s all I want.  An after.”

“Not a happily ever?” she asked lightly.

“Those are only for heroes.”

Matilda blinked.  “Elfangor, you are a hero.”

My smile became a bit sharper.  “Aren’t I?”

 ****

Marco sat complaining at the table.  Why he had to come here to complain is beyond me, but I did what I found best when Marco started complaining: ignore him, make the odd sound, and let the others deal with him. 

“And then Nora thought it would be nice if all the suits and stuff matched the girl’s dresses, and I’m going to have to wear pink, which just isn’t my color at all and –”

“Uh huh,” I muttered, reading about the latest on the political waves. 

“Well, I think you’ll look very cute,” Cassie said consolingly.

“Are you hitting on me?  In front of Jake?”

“She’s having pity on you.”

“Mmmm.”

Matilda said, “I’m sure the wedding will be nice.”

“Considering my mom is still alive and all, so this really is illegal.  In this state.”

“Ah, so having more than one mate is illegal on this planet,” Aximili said.  They all must have looked at him.  “I have been reading many of the magazines Loren buys and was confused on this.”

“It was _People_ and _Life_ ,” she said before they could comment.

“And the _National Enquirer_ and the _Star_ and the –” Tobias added under his breath and she swatted the back of his head.

“It isn’t illegal everywhere on Earth, Ax.  More like … frowned upon.  In some societies,” Cassie said.

“And in this society?”

Rachel snorted, “Well, it’s wrong, but people still do it.”

“What about for Andalites?” Jake asked. 

“We only take one mate at a time.”

“Do you have weddings?” Cassie asked.

“And wear dresses and tuxes?” Marco added.

Aximili snorted.  “We do not wear clothes like humans.  And we have _Geinash_ ceremonies, to celebrate the joining.  They are very solemn and long, approximately four of your hours.”

“That long?” Tobias asked, whistling.

“Well, when done correctly.  Many ceremonies have been shortened, but our parents had the full ceremony, didn’t they, Elfangor?  Elfangor?”

I jolted and looked up.  “What?”

“Our parents had the full _Geinash_ ceremony, didn’t they?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I agreed, going back to the paper.  “It was very large, very ceremonial.  Must have lasted seven hours.  The landscape arrangements were very well-done, according to Mother.”

“Landscape arrangements?” Rachel repeated.  “You guys fix the landscape for weddings?”

“Of course,” Aximili sniffed.  “It is a special occasion.  Our parents had a _Quint_ tree as a center, and the _cah-hah_ on the riverbed, so the grass bent to the high sun.  And they had joined in the floral season, so they had chosen very rare blooming plants.  Mother still has one.”

She had more, except, as a child, I … tried to help care for them.  Mother could only save that lone one.

“If I am lucky, she will let me have it at my _Geinash_ ceremony,” Aximili continued.  “That is considered great luck and a high honor, shows that the parents approve of the match.”

“Wouldn’t Elfangor get it as well?” Matilda asked.

Aximili must have blinked.  “No, of course not.  He would get Father’s.  Of course, Father lost his years ago,” – because of helpful little me, again – “so a substitute would be found.  But not Mother’s.  That is mine.  If I should take a mate.”  He said it in the way children do, with disinterest and acceptance of a future and a hint of disgust.

“Why does it matter who gets which flower?  Is it a first-born, second-born thing?” Tobias asked.

“No.  It is because Elfangor is named for Father; I, for Mother.  Normally, Andalites of our region haven’t had such large families as ours,” Aximili continued, not understanding the human’s surprise at our family being considered large, “but the High Command has approved that more children can be born to a family.  Because of the war with Yeerks.  Mother still has Elfangor’s wish flower.”

I almost blushed.  Even that hardy little plant, chosen for the ritual because children are children, suffered under my care. 

“Wish flower?” Marco asked, smirking at me.

“It is a ritual a sibling will do in preparation for a new sibling.  So they may be involved.”  Aximili shrugged.  “It had been shipped with the rest of Elfangor’s belongings one time due to a mistake in orders, and Mother said, since I had already been born, Elfangor didn’t need it cluttering up his quarters on the ship.  She let me take care of it and used to say I took much better care of it than Elfangor ever did.”  He rolled his eyes, not realizing our mother spoke in truth.

Odd that I didn’t kill many – okay, all – Earth plants, but Andalite ones …

“Do Andalites have rituals for everything?” Marco asked.

“Humans have just as many,” Aximili snapped.  “You just don’t do any of them.”

“Easy, boys,” Matilda said.

“So you don’t plan to be a swinging bachelor, Ax-man?” Tobias teased.

“I am too young to be bonded,” Aximili said dismissively.  “Perhaps in ten or twenty years I will be.”

“That long?” Rachel asked, surprised.

“Aximili has not nearly finished growing,” I said, turning a page.  “Despite what you may think, Aximili is at least four years older than you children.  Human, he would be considered an adult.  Andalite, he is considered slightly younger than you five.  Of course, Andalites mature much faster –” There was some complaining, but I continued on.  “And we learn faster, but that does not mean we age fast.  Andalites are not considered adults until a human would be about twenty-five, and even then, they are new adults, still finishing the shift to their adult bodies.   Of course, in the old days, children were bonded at his age, but they weren’t expected or able to produce offspring until later.”

“Huh,” Jake said.  “There’s a lot we don’t know about you Andalites, I guess.”

“Of course not,” Aximili agreed.  “We are a very complicated people.”

“Yeah, that must be it.  Nothing with you guys telling us nothing,” Marco said sarcastically but grinning.

“It isn’t like we ask,” Cassie countered.

I rolled my eyes and folded the paper.  “Human curiosity.  I’m off to demorph and go eat.  Try not to confuse them too much, Aximili.”

 ****

When I returned, they were all still there, still speaking. I sighed my disappointment and debated merely hiding.  It won and I started to quietly ascend the steps.  I froze when Champ appeared, wagging his tail.

“Shh, boy,” I pleaded softly.  He cocked his head to the side and I slowly started to move, keeping my eyes on his.  “Yes, that’s a good boy.  No barking.  Yes, that’s right.  There’s a good  … dog …”  I trailed off when feet were by Champ, and he looked up, dropping out his tongue. 

“What are you doing?” Matilda asked, amused.

I cringed in the embarrassment at being found out, but there was nothing to do for it.  “I was trying to sneak upstairs unnoticed so didn’t have to listen to the children.”  Then I looked at her.  “And what are you doing?”

“Laundry.”  And she gave a crooked smile.  “And not listening to their discussions, the word used liberally.”

I smiled back slightly, climbing the stairs to the landing.  “Well, I’ll let you get back to your laundry.”

“Oh, I finished that nearly an hour ago.  And you missed a wonderful debate on what makes an attractive female Andalite.”

I winced, walking away.  Aximili was at that age, of course, but I shuddered at what he had said, the associate embarrassment.  No doubt he was accurate in the traits, but, well, it was crude to speak them.  At least I thought so.

“And then of course that spread into what made an attractive human female, and Rachel and Cassie were appropriately insulted.  They’re waiting for your input.”

“As if I’m fool enough to walk into that.  Or disrespectful,” I said over my shoulder as I stepped into my room.  Champ followed and jumped onto my bed, messing up my neatly made covers.  Apparently my bed was one of the few pieces of furniture he allowed himself to crawl upon.  He didn’t even sleep next to his owner.  I wasn’t sure what to make of it or even if there was something to be made of.

“True.”  She sat next to her dog and I sat at the computer and logged on.  “Still, what do you think?”

“Think?  About what?” 

“What makes an attractive female Andalite?”

I shook my head in annoyance.  “Finding something physically attractive is just a biological response.”

“You’re avoiding.”

“Neck, eyes, tail, flanks, and back arch,” I said clinically as I opened my programs.  “Slender neck connecting to the shoulders and head at the right location and having the small hollow.  The main eyes are large and bright; the stalk eyes, higher than twice their hands and nimble.  The tail is long and swift and ending with a small blade with a more circular curve than males. The flanks are slender, with ideally no budge, and even with the lower ribs to the back pelvis, which of course is wider than in males.  The back has more arch than in males, which is more slope than curve.”  I looked over my shoulder at her.  “Those are the basics.  Some could go on for a lot longer.”

“Of course,” she said uncertainly.  “And what about human females?”

I chuckled.  “Humans are still too humorous in their appearance to be attractive.  There are, of course, the humans that are visibly pleasing when in a human morph, but one would be hard-pressed to determine what about them makes them so without actually having the human psyche.  As I said, it is down to biology.  It’s not like you could tell me exactly what makes a physically attractive Andalite male if you were in an Andalite form.”

She made no response except maybe a brief smile, and eventually both Champ and she left, closing the door behind them.

 ****

I nearly tripped when I came through the front door.  As it was, the bags of frozen food were not so lucky.  “What, what are these?” I demanded, less than gracefully, of the cardboard boxes.  (How else could I have asked as I gathered up frozen bags of vegetables?)

“These are my things,” Matilda said simply, holding a box in her arms.

For a moment, I simply stared, bag of food numbing my hand.  “You’re leaving?” I said in shock.  And then my thoughts raced.  “Ah, well then.  You probably found a nice apartment, then.  Yes, of course.”

Matilda frowned at me.  “Elfangor, I’m not moving out.”

“You’re not?” For a horrified moment, I thought I sounded relieved and happy.

She laughed.  “No.”

I balanced the grocery bag in my arms, confused.  “But you said these were your things.”

“Oh, they are.  From my old home, from … before.”  She looked wary for a moment and I wondered why.  I had asked if she still wanted the home when she had seen the bills, after all, and she’d said no.  “They’re selling it and all this would have just gone to the curb.  I … I couldn’t let that happen.  This is all I have from before my accident, some of what is in these boxes.”

“So you just went there and took stuff, and no one stopped you?”  I was shocked at her audacity.

“Do I look like a robber?”  No, she didn’t, not today in a business suit.  “And I did it in broad daylight.  No one is going to care, anyway.”

I thought about that neighborhood. “I suppose not.  And where are you going to put everything?”

“Basement.  So my completely real history can be next to your completely made-up one.”

“Right.  Just … clean all of this up.  Someone’s going to kill themselves,” I said lamely and went to put away the groceries.

“Would you help me move some of the stuff?” she called.

There wasn’t a way to politely whine that I didn’t want to.  “Very well.  Once I put away the groceries.”  Which I would do very slowly.  And then start supper.  And do the dishes.

All one needs is a plan.

It worked because, of course, I am a genius.  Matilda scowled when she finally sat in the kitchen, and even more so when I handed her a glass of ice water.  “Thanks ever so much for your help, Elfangor.”

“I just wanted to get supper started,” I said smoothly.  “I was just about to come out and help.”

“Right, do I look like I just got off the boat?  If you think I’ll buy that like the others would, you’re nuts.”

I merely smiled and focused on the stew.  “In any case, you’ve got everything put away.  That’s all that matters.”

“Just remember, paybacks are a bitch.” 

Didn’t I know it?  “Oh, yes, you got some mail.”  I barely monitored her mail.  (Honestly, I barely monitored mine.)  She received many catalogues and magazines, packages.  Shopped without ever leaving home.  “They’re on the shelf.”

Matilda made a sound and I heard the chair move.  “Yeah, this is really all my mail. Resident.  Consumer.  Mr. A Fangor.  Oh, look, here’s some for Ms. M Rusch.  I was getting an identity crisis for a second there.  Wait, I _still_ am.  Rusch,” she muttered to herself.

I shrugged.  “What’s the one for me about?”

“Bill.  Phone.  You pay it?”

I leaned back and took it, glancing at the dates and numbers.  “Yeah, I just authorized payment yesterday.  This was probably already in the mail.”  I ripped it up and threw the shreds into the garbage while she opened her own mail.

When I looked back, letting the pot simmer, she was still reading, and I was amused to see her lips slightly moving.  Humans and their quirks, endearing.  “Interesting?”

She looked up and appeared surprised that I was still present, that I was even in the room.  Almost guilty.  “Nothing, really.  It’s just something I sent out several weeks ago.  Really, I practically forgot all about it.”  She slid the papers back into the manila envelope. 

I clucked my tongue at the sloppiness of human systems.  “Well, I hope what you were waiting for was nothing very important.”

Matilda gave me a wan smile.  “Some things are worth the wait.”

“Perhaps,” I shrugged, turning on the sink to clean the dishes from lunch and breakfast.  I put on the rubber gloves and added the soap, going about it.  It was such a blessedly mind-numbing task.  I didn’t have to think at all.

“You know, when I was getting everything,” Matilda said after clearing her throat.  When she didn’t continue, I turned to look at her curiously.  She seemed nervous.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“I … I got your messages.”

It took me a moment to understand what she was talking about, and when I realized I turned back to the dishes, mentally cursing answering machines.  “Well, feel free to not call me back.”  I scrubbed vigorously at a particularly tough stain.

“Don’t you think we should talk about then?”

“No,” I said curtly.

“I think we should.”

I almost laughed at the petulance in her voice.  As it was, I sneered.  “Speak what you wish, but don’t think I am interested in any such conversation.”

“Just tell me, was it all a lie, just pretend?”

“Yes.”  Because, really, it was.

“You’re lying.”

“What’s the point of a conversation if you’re going to deny everything I say?”

Matilda stood up.  “You’re lying.  I can _remember_ that time, Elfangor.  It didn’t magically go away when Visser Three took me.”

“What you remember and what actually happened are two separate things.  After all, you don’t actually have a stellar record for remembering things, do you?”  It was a comment designed to hurt.  And it did.  I decided to do more damage, because I _did not_ want this conversation.  “The Visser was going to remember you eventually.  A few words, time spent, it was enough to integrate myself.”

“And the sex?”

“Just an unpleasant task I had to go through.  It never meant anything.” No, it didn’t.

Matilda was quiet for a long time.  “You can be a right bastard, Elfangor,” she said softly.

“So you’ve said before.”

“I’ve never—”

“You did,” I said flatly.  “And you _slapped_ me.”  I was surprised that I had to control the vitriol in my voice, and grew even more angered when she denied she had ever done so.  “Let’s just simply agree that neither of us were who the other thought we were and move on.  Because, really, I cannot be bothered or distracted with your interest in digging up the past.”

“At least I don’t hide,” she hissed.

I laughed.  “Please.  What exactly are you doing now, _Matilda_?” I asked, placing a mocking emphasis on her name.  “Everyone hides; it’s only a matter of how much.”

“Fine.  Then I don’t deny.  There was something, there is something, even now.  You just can’t accept it.”

“Accept what?” I demanded, turning away from the dishes as my temper got the better of me.  “There is nothing.  That I’ve accepted, because it’s true.  Or am I supposed to pretend it’s twenty years ago, turn a blind eye to everything that’s different while I slowly go mad?”  I threw the sponge into the soapy water.  “The fact is, this isn’t twenty years ago.  It’s now, and whatever you think or believe, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve got a job to do, and it doesn’t involve wooing a stupid little Earth female who–”

I had to stop because she kissed me, and for one moment – one moment, just one, just one – I lost myself and kissed back.  But my senses returned full-forced and I pushed her away.

“Who do you think you are?” I hissed, wiping my mouth and getting soap in it for my troubles.  “How dare you?”

Matilda stared at me, red-faced and breathing so deeply her chest was heaving with each gulp. “You wanted it.”

“No, I didn’t!” I yelled, stepping further away from her, putting the table between us.  “Do you think you matter to me?  You’re just some pathetic little human.  You aren’t my mate or wife or whatever word in whatever language you want to call it, you never were and you never will be.  So do everyone a favor and focus on what’s important before you get someone killed in battle.”

“That’s what matters to you?  This war?”

I hit the table with my fist.  “It is all that matters!  If you can’t deal with that, stay out of this fight!  I won’t have to compromise us!”

“And what about you?  You’re not compromising us with your repressing and anger and leading all of this against over-whelming odds?”

“Repressing?” I spat.  “I don’t love you, damn it!  You are nothing!  You’re not my Loren and you never will be!”

“Because you won’t let me!”

“No, because you can’t be,” I said, angry beyond words.  “You will never be her!  How can you?  You don’t remember anything that made her her or made her care for me, be with me!”

Her face contorted with anger.  “And what about me knowing me, and me caring for you now?  Doesn’t that matter?”

I straightened.  “No.  Because you don’t know me, and you don’t care for me.  All you know is this,” I said coldly, indicating my morph.  “Alan Samuel Fangor.  You know nothing about me, nothing about Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul.”  I threw off yellow washing gloves.  “And, quite frankly, I just don’t care for you to find out.”

“Because you’re scared.”

“I’m in a war,” I said as I walked away.  “Of course I’m scared.  But not of you.”  And I went through the front door, into my Mustang, and went on a long, long drive.  I wished it had been a ship.  I wanted to fly away, to go at speeds faster than sound.

I made do with getting a speeding ticket.

Three, actually.

 ****

There were no glares from the children, at least.  The female could at least hold her own counsel on such private matters.  Admittedly, I had been surprised, because when I got home, my brother and Tobias had been there and it was obvious Matilda had gone through a small crisis.  But absolutely no glares, no silent reprimands. Such those little smiles for hello or whatever they were supposed to mean.

Not that I was relieved or anything.  It was just a nice change of pace to not be a bad guy.

Not that I was the bad guy, of course.

A few days later, I walked in to a strange scene, where, in my unusually bare living room Marco and Matilda seemed to be dancing while Aximili and Tobias watched.  Tobias seemed to be trying not to laugh at Marco’s expression, while Aximili merely looked confused.

“Keep laughing, and I won’t let my dad invite you guys.  No, strike that, you won’t be invited,” Marco said with a scowl.

“I am not laughing,” Aximili said seriously, though Tobias chuckled for a moment.

“Sorry man, I just had a vision of you in the monkey suit.”

“Hey, you always see me in that,” Marco snapped.

“Do you want to learn or not?  Then you have to be serious, Marco,” Matilda said.

“What is going on?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Mom’s teaching Marco how to dance,” Tobias said after greeting me.

“It is a human tradition,” Aximili said.  “There is to be dancing at the ceremony, but not good dancing, Marco says.”

“My dad said I had to learn how to waltz,” Marco said.  “Or to not show up.  I might not.  My dad even offered to teach me.  Said he’d be the girl.”  Marco made a face, then winced when he stumbled on his feet.  Even I smiled.

“At least it’s not the tango,” I said consolingly, patting his shoulder as I went past towards the kitchen to get something to drink.  I didn’t know how to tango, but it looked complicated.  Well, not complicated, like explaining space phenomenon, which really isn’t that complicated in most cases, but complicated as in I could really embarrass myself if I tried that.

“Tell me about it.  The thorns would probably cut my mouth all up.  Oh, sorry, Loren!”

Her voice sounded pained.  “It’s all right, Marco.  Just … try counting.”

“I am counting!”

I let the fiasco go on for several minutes, enjoying the show, before I took pity on Marco.  “Maybe you should try it with music.  Get the beat.”

“Well, you don’t actually have Waltz of the Flowers lying around. That is a waltz, isn’t it?  Not, like, false advertisement?”

“Marco, please pay attention.”

I rolled my eyes as I went to the closet and pulled down a box.  I ordered everything bulk.  “I’m bound to have some Tchaikovsky, if you like.  I also have some Strauss.  One of them should have a good waltz for you to listen to.”  I set the box on the edge of the couch and tossed out a few CDs, and the children looked at them while Matilda took the chance to get off her feet.

“These are still in the plastic,” Tobias exclaimed.   “Whoa, the White Album.”

“What is the White Album?  Is it the Beatles, as the label says?” Aximili said.

“You have the White Album?” Marco demanded, reaching for it.  Tobias leaned back.

“I found it first!”

I rolled my eyes at their shenanigans.  “Take it.  Take whatever you like, both of you,” I said, my fingers ghosting over the titles.  “Ah ha, here we go.  Stupid humans and their plastic,” I muttered as I tried to peel it off.  I went to the CD player and put in the disc.  The first song came on in a few moments.

“Hey, I know this,” Tobias said, and Marco took the chance to claim the CD.

“Duh.  It was on The Simpsons!” Marco said, moving away to presumably hide the prize.  “You know, when Homer was in space and eating chips.”

“Chips?” Aximili said hopefully.

I shook my head.  Children.  “Now, can you hear the beat?”

Clueless faces.  “Umm … no?”

“Well, you’re never going to dance if you can’t get the beat.”  I snapped my fingers in time.  “And if you can fight, you can dance.”

“Wasn’t that a quote in a karate movie or something?” Marco asked.

“I think it’s just something people say,” Tobias argued.

“Well, it should.  Because if you can punch someone in the nose, it ultimately leads to coordinated feet,” Marco said.

Tobias pointed out, “Unless, of course, it was your feet that caused you to trip and punch the guy.”

“Waltzes are set to threes, emphasis on the one,” I said over their nonsense.  If I could teach _aristh_ s complicated tail maneuvers, I could do this.  Marco wasn’t much worse than _aristh_ s.  And a waltz was a simple square, not complicated geometric patterns a tail was expected to go through.  “Now,” I said setting my hands on his shoulders firmly, “show me what you know how to do it.”

“By myself?” he squeaked indignantly.

“One. Forward with your left,” I said with a push.  “Two. Now, right foot up and over like an upside-down ‘L.’ Three. Center of balance on right foot, slide left foot over.  One, step back with right foot.  Two, left foot back and over like an ‘L’ again.  Three, right foot over.  Repeat.”

Marco looked at his feet.  “Are you supposed to end up exactly where you started?”

“Yes. And don’t look down.  You’re acting like every fresh-furred _aristh_ s I’ve ever trained, keeping an eye on his tail as if it needs watching.  Eyes forward, on your partner or on something more interesting, I don’t care which, just not down.  And your hands are here.  Keep the frame,” I scolded as I corrected the placement in the air.

“I should have just had my dad teach me,” he mumbled as I counted steadily to the melody. 

“Why did you not?” Aximili asked.  “I would think that it would be his duty.  Not that I mind, of course.  This is very educational.”

“Not to mention hilarious,” Tobias added under his breath.

“All right, let’s see you do this, Tobias!” Marco snapped, hands coming down into fists, and I gripped his shoulders to keep him put.

“No, keep going through the motions until you got them down.  It does not matter if Tobias can waltz, since no one will be watching him,” I said.

“I will.  And I bet Rachel would too.  She’d probably break your foot if you ruined her shoes because you didn’t know the steps.”

“Probably,” Tobias said, shrugging.  “And then I won’t have to dance anymore.”

“I think you both are making a bigger deal than this needs to be,” Matilda said, shaking her head.  “It’s not the end of the world if you can’t dance a waltz.”

“I do not see why you can’t,” my brother said.  “It appears to be very simple.”

“It is,” I said.  “And that’s what makes it hard for some.”

“Can I stop moving in squares?” Marco whined.  “I think I’ve got it.  And my arms are getting tired.”

I doubted he did but allowed him to stop.  “Dancing by yourself is the easy part, in any case.  You’re allowed to lose confidence and step.  With a partner, you have to remain assured, lest you do step on her toes.”

“Who are you dancing with, anyway?” Matilda asked.

“The flower girl,” Marco said with a face.  “She’s six or whatever.  One of Nora’s nieces or something.”

I stared at him.  “You’re dancing with a six year old?”  I shook my head.  What an utter waste of time this was then.  All six-year-olds knew how to do was rock back and forth.

Marco took my tone as mutual condolences.  “Say, how do you do those turns and stuff?  I can’t just dance in a square, square-dancing.”

“Just set your foot that makes the L so it doesn’t make a right angle.  So it doesn’t make a square edge,” I substituted at Marco’s face.

“Right.  And I do know what a right angle is.”

Aximili looked relieved.  I was, too.

“I have to, now.  My stepmom’s a math teacher,” Marco groused, picking up his bag.  “Why couldn’t she have been English, that’s all I ask?  I can bull that.”

“And that’s why,” Matilda laughed.

Marco made a face.  “Well, I’m going to tell my dad mission accomplished on the dance thing, more or less.  Thanks, Elfangor, by the way.  You were a lot better than Loren.”

“I did say that,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.  “You were just so gosh-darn-it cute that I couldn’t not do it.”

He laughed while Tobias groaned at Matilda for inflating Marco’s already large ego.  “Yes, I am, aren’t I?”

“Modest, too,” I said.  “Good day, Marco.”  Once he disappeared, I turned to the others, “Put this room back to normal, please.  And shut off that CD.”

“You don’t like it?” Matilda asked.

“Of course not,” Aximili said.  “It isn’t even very good music, by Andalite standards.”

“I’m not much for the classicals,” I said. 

Before I could leave, Tobias, who had already moved to push a chair over, asked, “Where did you learn to dance, anyway?”

I tried to remember and then smiled.  “Fred and his wife, I can’t even remember why I had to learn.”  Probably because I had thought knowing how to dance would make me a better human, though no doubt there was some function I had to go to at the time.  My old job always had sort of social, formal gatherings.  “Jody had been in dance since she was a kid, if I remember right.  Yes.  I know I gave them both a good laugh at the time.”

“Worse than Marco?” he asked.

“I had barely been human a year.  Of course I had been worse than Marco. I could hardly master standing upright when twisting.”  Well, not that bad, but I had been still been very uncoordinated when compared to other approximately twenty-year-olds.  I remembered those lessons and even gave a small wince.  “I had been utterly hopeless for the first two weeks.  And I had to buy Fred a new cabinet.”  In my defense, it shouldn’t have been placed where I was going to dance.  I had had to go to the hospital for that fall.

“And now look at you,” Matilda said, and there was a strange tone in her voice.  Distant, but not cold, exactly.  Merely distant.  “A regular Don Juan.”

“If I must, I suppose.” I couldn’t determine why the words she spoke bothered me, made me nervous, like maybe I had forgotten to make sure all the hatches on my ship were secured before going into space, and I hastily made an escape. 

****

I entered the reception hall for the marriage of Marco’s father, Peter, and his new stepmother, Nora.  I had no real interest to attend, did not even want to, but it had been subtly hinted by more than one person under my command – Andalite and human – that I had to support Marco in this transition.  And that if I didn’t attend, they were going to give me a lot of disapproving glares.

In the name of peace, compromise, and a definite wish to keep myself from being incredibly annoyed with them, I agreed to attend the reception, only.  I refused to attend the wedding, citing the time limit.  Aximili desired to attend, saying it was an important Earth custom that he should witness.  The other children promised to keep an eye on him.

The hall was festooned with streamers and festive decorations, in light pastels of blues, green, purple, and pink.  The tables were covered in white tablecloths with silvery confetti of flowers and cakes and other wedding themes.  There was a DJ in the corner, with colored roving lights and a strobe light.  There was also a small buffet type counter, and I was not surprised to see my brother there with the others.

“Look, there’s Ax,” Matilda said, almost needlessly, as she came up behind me, holding the gift that was customary for these sorts of events.

“Where else would he be?”

She gave me a look, took my arm, and dragged me over to them, as if I wouldn’t go over there on my own.  “Hey, kids,” she greeted.  “How was the wedding?”

“Long,” Marco said with a face.

“I found it very educational,” Aximili said.  “The ceremony was very appropriate for such an important affair.”

“It was nice,” Cassie agreed.  “You should have come.”

“Marco was the best.  You could see him fidgeting the whole time,” Rachel said sweetly.

“It was hot up there!”

They kept speaking.  I had no interest to hear a complete recap of the ceremony, so I politely excused myself – after taking a small plate of food – and went to a table.

The hall was already filled up with people, guests from the wedding.  I had purposely been a little late.  After all, I didn’t want to appear like I was only there for the food and entertainment.  Fashionably late, that’s what they called it.

I subconsciously compared it to my own wedding, even though I tried to stop myself.  For one, my hall had been a lot nicer, with large windows and opening up onto a patio.  (All of my friends had forecasted that it was going to downpour and it would all be ruined, but, thankfully, they had been wrong.)  Peter and Nora’s reception was in a closed in hall with few windows, no plants except for the fake ones that came with the location.  (There had been fresh flowers at my wedding, fresh _live_ flowers that were potted so the guests could take them home.  It was an Andalite tradition that Loren and her mother had liked, when they deemed my opinion worthy.)

“Stop it, Elfangor,” I muttered to myself.  I refused to get buried in the memories. 

“Stop what?” Matilda asked, sitting down across from me.

I looked up, feeling guilty.  “Stop … um, stop eating.”

“Now there’s a challenge for you,” she grinned.  Then she looked around.  “This is nice.”

I shrugged, eating some chips.  “I suppose.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It is very … very confined.  Little light.  I would prefer something more open, is all.”

“Really?”

I shrugged again. 

“I’m glad you came.”

“I was forced.”

“Even still.  By the way, what did you get them?”

“Hmm?”

“The wedding gift, genius.”

I gave a small smile.  “You’ll just have to ask Marco when they open them.”

“Oh, come on, tell me.  I thought for sure I’d have to go buy some last-minute gift, and I come downstairs to see a wrapped present – a very good job, by the way, so you didn’t do it – on the table, and no idea what is was.  What is it?  Tell me.”

“Don’t be nosy.  It’s distasteful.”

“Don’t be so snide, it’s worse.  Tell me.”

“It’s just a wine glass set and two bottles of Merlot.  So thank you for not dropping it.”  Matilda covered her mouth, trying to hide her smile.  “What?”

“You can be so traditional and high-brow and cute, do you know?”

“I’ve heard.”

She gave me a small kick as she stole a carrot stick. 

“Get your own food.”

“I’m helping you not eat.”

I chuckled and pushed my plate so it was between us.  “Yeah, sure.”

 ****

The children and Matilda were trying to teach Aximili how to dance modern dances, and I shook my head and smiled at them as I got my drink from the bar.  They had tried to coerce me onto the floor as well, but I refused.  There was no point.  Instead, I made small conversation with other guests, gave my wishes to the bride and groom.

As I made my way back to our table, my ears picked up a strange sound under the music, and I stopped, cocked my head and looked around.  Was that – I took a step back and looked down, and I saw the source.

“Are you all right, little one?” I asked, bending to speak with the small girl in a pink dress who was sniffing under the table.

She looked up at me, slightly afraid, and wiped her nose on her arm.  I made a face and dug into my pocket.

“Here, use a napkin,” I said, holding it out to her.  Her eyes examined me with the sort of care children give to strange adults before she crawled forward and took it.  “What’s your name?”

“Lynn,” she whispered.

“Oh, you were the flower girl, weren’t you?  That would explain your lovely dress.”

She nodded, smiling shyly.  “Thank you.”

“My name is Alan Fangor, Lynn.  Would you mind if I had a seat?  I cannot bend like I used to, you see.”

After a moment, she nodded again, then her eyes grew wide when I moved over and sat on the floor to the side of the table.  As I had said, I did not wish to bend.

“There.  That is better.”

Lynn giggled.  “You’re silly.”

I nodded sagely.  “Now, Lynn, why are you crying under the table?  This is supposed to be a joyous time.”

“I don’t like it here.  There’s no one to play with.”

Looking around, I could see her dilemma.  There did not seem to be any children around her age, and weddings in generally always seem to involve throwing a lot of relatives and strangers into a confined space where no one really knew anyone else.

“Why don’t you go by your parents?”

“They’re just _talking_.”

“You could go dance with Marco and his friends.”

She shook her head widely.  “Nah-uh.  He’s too old.”

I smiled.  “So you plan to just sit under the table dirtying your dress the rest of the evening?”

Lynn started to nod, then thought better of it.

“I bet I could go get us some more cake,” I tempted.  She brightened considerably.  “Why don’t you sit in the chair properly, hmm?”

“Okay, Alan.”  She scurried out and climbed into the chair.  I followed much slower.

“I’ll be right back, Lynn.”

She smiled brightly in that gappy fashion human children her age are plagued with.

Within a few moments I was returning with the promised slices of cake, and I gave her the frosting-laden one.  Children that age tend to think the more frosting, the better – and they’re right – and she ate eagerly.  For a few minutes, we were quiet.

“Are you friends with my mommy’s cousin Nora?” she asked, mouth full.

“No, I’m not.  My brother, Ax, is a friend of Marco’s.”

“Marco’s mean.”

“What did he do to you?” I asked, consolingly, though smiling at the idea of the atrocities the child would no doubt account.  Andalite or human, all children are the same in the end.

“He makes fun of me and won’t hold my hand and he’s a poopy-head.”

“Grave charges, indeed.”

“I had to dance with him,” she added with distaste.

“I saw.  I thought you danced wonderfully.

“I did?”

“Yes.  Like one of the Disney princesses.”  Disney was always good with children, and human girls like princesses.

“Like Ariel?”

I didn’t know who Ariel was, but I nodded.  “Exactly.”

Lynn beamed happily and finished her cake.  Then she looked around.  “I’m in first grade, you know.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yes.  I was in kindergarten last year, but I’m in first grade now, and my teacher is Ms. Jelly, which is a funny name, and I get to take care of the hamster.  I have to make sure he has food.”

“That is very important.”

“Yes, and I got to skip school Thursday and Friday because I’m the flower girl.  None of my friends have ever been a flower girl.  I got this pretty hair thing, see?  And I got a bunch of pretty flowers and –”

I dimly wondered what I had gotten myself into, but there was no reason to try to escape.  Young children are harmless in their stories and tales, and I didn’t wish to leave the child so she would fall into despondency again.  Part of me was very upset with her parents for ignoring her so.  Andalite parents wouldn’t act so.

I was saved, however, when her mother arrived, looking at me with a strange expression.  Lynn stopped in her speech.  “Mommy!”

“Lynn, dear, come here.”

I internally winced at the tone as I stood. I belatedly remembered human parents were very distrustful of their children conversing with strangers. “Excuse me, ma’am.  Your daughter was just keeping me company.” 

Lynn did not register her mother’s stance, taking her hand and swinging it.  “Alan got me cake and we talk about school and Ariel and bunnies and –”

“Did you?”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my table.  Have a good evening, ma’am, Lynn.”

I quickly made my escape to my table and hid my face. 

It did not seem enough, because soon Lynn’s mother was at my table.  “What were you doing with my daughter?” she hissed.

I straightened.  “We were conversing.”

“Stay away from her.”

“Of course.  The only reason I spoke with Lynn because I found her crying under the table,” I snapped, letting my anger at Lynn’s and my treatment escape. 

The mother was startled.  “What?”

“I spoke quite plainly, I believe.”

“Why would she be crying?”

“You will have to ask her that.  I beg pardon if my desire to comfort a child in distress was against your principles, which seems to circle around ignoring said child!”

Her face whitened.  “How dare you?”

“You make it very easy, ma’am!”

Her lips tightened, but, instead of continuing and possibly making a scene, she stormed away.  I made a note to avoid being in company with her or her husband.

“What was that about?” Matilda asked, coming up.  Obviously she had been watching the scene from a safe distance.

“Nothing.”

“Right.  So I suppose it has nothing to do with you sitting on the floor next to the flower girl.”

“Nothing does get by you.”

“Ah, ignore the mom; she’s a bitch.  Anyone could see you were keeping the girl company.  Very funny, by the way.  We all had a good laugh.”

“Why would me amusing a girl be humorous?” I asked, surprised.  “It is completely natural.”

She tiled her head, then nodded sagely.  “So it’s an alien thing.  That would explain why Ax didn’t see what was so funny.”

“There was nothing funny!”

She gave me a look.  “You were sitting on the floor talking to the flower girl.”  Then she thought about it.  “All right, you’re right.  It wasn’t funny.”

“Thank you.”

“It was hilarious.”  She smirked unrepentant at my glare.  “And adorable.”

“I thought I was always adorable,” I said in a snappish fashion.

Matilda patted my arm and gave me a strange smile.  “You are.”  She paused, then cleared her throat.  “Are you going to dance?”

“No.”

She pouted.  “Why not?”

“I have no reason or wish to.  Why should I?”

For some reason, Matilda frowned at me.  “I have no idea.”  And then she got up sharply and left the table.  My eyes followed her, confused.

What had I done this time?

 ****

Despite a probably strongly-worded order from her mother, Lynn occasionally wandered over to my table on the pretense of showing something she had found or telling me what someone did or said.  At first she rushed away when one of the other children or Matilda approached, but quickly she grew brave enough to stick around.  And, slowly, she transferred her attention onto the children, going off to the dance floor with them.  Jake, Tobias, and, eventually, Marco were obliging to dance with her, and she helped in teaching Aximili the ever-embarrassing chicken dance, Macarena, and Hokey-Pokey. 

I was relieved to notice that, while at first Lynn’s mother was most disapproving, she seemed more tolerant of Lynn visiting.  No doubt she had gone to Marco’s father to demand a character reference.  There was no reason for Peter to slander me, so the mother most likely realized I was not going to kidnap, beat, murder, or otherwise harm her precious daughter.  (That I was, in fact, a babysitter she did not have to pay.)

Matilda was still amused by the girl’s attention to me.  “It must be your foreign charm,” she said when Lynn bounded back to the others, having tattled on something Marco had said to Rachel when Cassie said something to Jake after he cleared up something Tobias said to Aximili.  Or something like that.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look at her.  She’s doting on you.”  She batted her eyelashes at me.

I scoffed.  “Hardly.  Seeking companionship from someone who pays attention is not _doting_.”

“She’s got a crush on you,” Matilda teased.  “See, she’s waving at you.  How do you do it?”

“I’m not doing anything!  I hardly think being myself is doing something.”

She tilted her head.  “Are you really being yourself?”

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you act like that.  Or the kids.”

“My brother doesn’t think I’m acting different,” I pointed out.

“Ax wouldn’t say you were acting weird if you wore your underwear on top of your head,” Matilda dismissed. 

“Why would I –”

“It’s just a figure of speech!”

I smiled.  “I know.  Did it ever occur to you that maybe you humans don’t actually _know_ me as well as you think?  Just because you think I’m acting out of character doesn’t mean I am.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Think what you want, Nancy Drew.”

“Oh, I will.”

When the current dance ended, the DJ pronounced that it was time for some wedding games.  Tobias and Aximili joined the table, with Lynn skipping behind them.  Marco went to the wedding party table, and Jake, Rachel, and Cassie went to a table near ours. 

“What’s going on?” Lynn asked, crawling into her seat.  I wondered if I should tell her to go to her parents, then dismissed it.  If either parent wished her presence, they could come and claim her.

“I think it’s time to throw the bouquet and garter,” Matilda explained.

“What is that?” my brother asked.

“Yes, what?” Lynn parroted, looking instead to me.  Tobias and Matilda both made matching grins.

“It’s when the bride throws her bouquet of flowers, and the groom, the garter,” she said to Lynn and Aximili.

“Why?” Lynn asked.

“Because whoever catches it is supposed to be lucky,” Matilda continued.

“They’re supposed to be the next one to get married,” Tobias added.

Lynn darted her eyes to each of us, then covered her mouth and giggled.

When the DJ ordered all single women onto the floor, Lynn, after Matilda told her she could join in, squealed and rushed off.  I saw the other girls joining as well.

“Aren’t you going out?” Tobias asked his mother, smiling.

She laughed, but was then coaxed by Rachel and Cassie, who saw that she was sitting the game out. 

“What is the history of this event?” Aximili asked.  Tobias shrugged.

I tried to remember the entry from a book I had read so many years ago.  “I think … I think it was when a bride’s entire goal in life was to get married.  The bride was so lucky, they wished to pass the ‘luck’ to their friends.”

“That is illogical,” my brother laughed.

“Humans were never logical.  Of course, that is one of the more …” I waved my hand, trying to think of an appropriate term, “family-friendly explanation, I suppose.  There are other more vulgar historical anecdotes.  None of which are appropriate to discuss now,” I added to Aximili.

He nodded with understanding, though some disappointment.

The bouquet was tossed, and it bounced hands a bit before lying on the floor.  Even I had to laugh at the swiftness Lynn moved to claim the prize on the ground, and she beamed happily, showing Cassie and Rachel, then Matilda.  She then rushed over to show me.

“I got the flowers!  See.”

I laughed and pushed it so it was less close to my face, and gave it the appropriate appraisal a child would seek.  “So I did.  Very good.”

“It is a very pretty arrangement, for fake flowers,” Aximili added.

She grinned, pleased, and picked at the arrangement and ribbons.

“You are a quick little devil,” Matilda chuckled.  “May I see it?” 

For a moment, Lynn looked against the idea, but then reluctantly handed it over.  While Matilda examined the florals, there was a call for the single gentlemen to come to the floor.  Apparently we weren’t to witness the garter removed, a decision that Marco was probably increasingly thankful for. 

“Aren’t you going to join?” my brother asked me.

I shook my head.  “I have no desire.”

“Doesn’t taking part wish the pair well?”

“I’ve given my wishes verbally.  Go.”

I smiled as my brother left with Tobias and joined the other male children. 

“Why aren’t you going out there too?” Lynn asked.  “Don’t you want flowers too?”

Matilda snorted, then smirked when I glared at her.

“If they were throwing flowers, I might very well be out there,” I said to Lynn.  “But they’re throwing a garter.  I don’t need one.  Besides, the last thing my mother needs is encouragement for me to find a wife.”  It was true.  One of Mother’s goals is to find me a mate, and it was always less-than-subtle – it had started subtle, once upon a time, but I had grown apt to ignoring her – reminders when I communicated or visited.

Both of the females grinned.  “What’s a garter?”  Lynn asked.

“It’s a … an elastic band people wear to keep their stockings up, isn’t it?” I asked, looking to Matilda for conformation.

“Yeah.  See, Lynn, that’s a garter,” she pointed out to the girl.

“It looks my hair band!” Lynn said.

Matilda and I grinned at each other.  There was a rousing cheer when the garter was caught.  Unlike the bouquet, the garter had been caught straight from the air.  If I recalled, I think the gentleman who managed the feat was a co-worker of the groom’s. 

“I’m glad I got flowers, too,” Lynn said, nodding and taking the bouquet from Matilda without asking.  “Flowers are much better.”  She then looked up when the person who caught the bouquet was asked to come to the dance floor.  “Why do I have to do that?  I’m not in trouble.”

“You have to dance with the man who caught the garter,” Matilda explained, smiling.

She shook her head wildly.  “I don’t wanna to dance with him.”

“Lynn, he’s a nice man,” Matilda said.

While she tried to convince the girl to go out, looking around I could see most of the guests were grinning at Lynn’s antics, including the garter-catcher, bride, and groom.

“I could dance with you!” Lynn suggested, suddenly grabbing my arm and looking pathetically hopeful.

Matilda gave out a laugh, while I probably looked both horrified and amused. “Alan doesn’t dance, Lynn.  He’s very mean like that.”

I shot a look at her before saying kindly, “I’m sorry, Lynn, but I can’t.  It is tradition for the catchers to share the dance.”

“But … but,” her lips quivered.  Then she smiled.  “I got an idea.  You stay right here.”  Then she left the table, giving a wide berth to her future dance partner.

“No running away,” Matilda said, wagging a finger at me.

“Why would I run?”

Though, I admit, I was curious and nervous as to Lynn’s plan.  She appeared to be speaking with the bride and groom, and Marco – by his proximity – seemed to be trying to not break out into laughter at whatever Lynn was saying.

That was a bad sign for me, if Marco was laughing.

The bride and groom also seemed very amused, and Nora nodded.

Lynn rushed back over, a big grin on her face.  “Cousin Nora said I could dance with you!”

It is a good thing I wasn’t drinking anything.  Matilda started giggling.  “Wouldn’t you rather dance with your … your father?”

She shook her head and grabbed my hand, trying to urge me up.  “Please, please, please.”

I felt trapped.  I had no real desire to dance, but I didn’t want to create a scene.  “I really can’t dance, Lynn.”

“He’s just being shy.  He’s a wonderful dancer,” Matilda countered. 

“Please?”

I sighed and hid my face for a moment.  “Human females,” I muttered.  “Very well.”

“Yay!” She gripped my hand and dragged me to the floor, amidst some scattered applause.  The garter-catcher had already been informed of the change and had a partner as well, probably his date, and he grinned at me. 

“I guess I’m not good enough for the little lady,” he commented.

“I guess not.”

Lynn took my hands and grinned.  Well, at least the child was happy. 

“Oh, I know this song!  It’s from _Anastasia_!” Lynn said happily.  I wondered if they had changed the song for her, because it didn’t seem solemn enough for a dance between two “lucky” people, in my opinion. 

As I said to Marco, dancing with young children usually consists of rocking back and forth.  Marco, of course, had it easier.  Lynn and he were closer in height.  The girl barely came up to my waist. I, however, at least had the benefit of a bit more knowledge dancing than Marco and guided Lynn through a few twirls and other simple moves that would amuse her.  She giggled quite a bit, tripped more than once, but she appeared to have a pleasant time.

When the song finished, I gave her a smile and reserved bow, and Lynn covered her mouth and twisted back and forth before attempting to curtsey. 

“Thank you for the lovely dance,” I said solemnly, when my head was near her level.

“You’re welcome!”

“Why don’t you go thank the bride and groom for letting it happen, and ask your mother what she thought.  Okay?”

Lynn nodded happily and bounded off, and I made my way back to the table, feeling embarrassed as everyone seemed to be looking at me.  Matilda was smirking.

“I’m going to ask Marco to give us one of the prints their photographer took,” she said as I sat down.  “I’ll hang it right in the middle of the living room wall.”

“Why?” I asked, even though I knew why.  My embarrassment was too good of fodder to pass up.

“I thought you’d like to remember your little girlfriend.”

I gave a weak laugh.

“It was very nice of you, though.  I know you didn’t want to,” she said, smiling. 

I shrugged, feeling uncommonly pleased for the compliment.  “Well, I tend to fold when human children ask me to do silly things.  It is a weakness, I suppose.”

She perked up.  “Really? I have to remember to exploit it more often.”

“Ha ha.”

“You are aware of what you’ve done, aren’t you?”

“No.  What have I done?”

“You just flashed a huge neon sign over you to all the single ladies that says, _I’m cute, a terrific dancer, single, and great with kids_.”  Her hands were up to demonstrate her point.

“I did not!”

She patted my arm.  “Little Lynn is going to have competition if she wants to dance again.”  Her nose crinkled in amusement.

“I have no intention of going out on that dance floor again.  I only did it so there wouldn’t be a scene,” I explained rationally.

“Tell that to them.”  I turned to look at where she indicated.  “Bet you a dozen muffins one of them asks you to dance within the next three songs.”

I chose to not take the bet.

 ****

I soon decided it was nearing the time for us to depart.  I had already demorphed once and did not feel like braving detection again, and it was getting late.  Three hours, I thought, was long enough to appear like I wanted to come and short enough that I wouldn’t overstay a welcome.

It had nothing to do with wishing to avoid making conversation with numerous human females (and two human males), and politely declining their requests for a dance.

Matilda sat with me most of the time, too amused at the spectacle, but did oblige a few males when they asked for a dance.  (I made a mental note to make sure none of them were Controllers.)  (And I was _not_ jealous.)  She seemed to enjoy herself and so did her partners, but, of course, she always was fun to be around.

“Do we have to leave?” she asked.  “It’s hardly past nine.”

“You may stay later, if you wish, but I will be leaving.”

“But Ax seems to be enjoying himself.  This is a very valuable learning experience for him.”

“Ax is quite old enough to take care of himself, and if you are staying as well, he won’t be alone.  And the children are here as well.”

She frowned at my logic.  “I don’t see why you’re so against having fun sometimes.”

“I had fun,” I countered, perhaps lying a bit.  “Why should I remain here longer?  I know very few people, I’m not fond of any of the forms of entertainment, and it is getting late.”

“You sound so old when you say nine is late.”  She gave a sigh of defeat.  “ _Fine_ , we can leave.”

“ _You_ don’t _have_ to return.  I could come pick you up later or you could call a cab.  If you are having fun, stay.”

She smiled.  “It was only really fun watching you be uncomfortable.  Now I’ll have nothing to do.” 

I frowned.  “I do not understand the children’s and your amusement in seeing me in awkward situations.”

“It’s because it hardly ever happens, you know.  It actually makes you seem normal.”

I gave a huff.  “I am perfectly normal.”

“Yes, you are, but you’re even more normal in awkward situations,” she grinned.

“Right.”

She started playing with a napkin.  “You know what would be nice?”

“Seeing if we could take a plate of cake home?”  That was customary for this sort of thing, wasn’t it?  I hoped so.

Matilda gave me a look.  “Maybe that.  But you could dance at least once. With someone your own age,” she added when I was going to point out I had danced.

“Why would me dancing be nice?” I questioned, annoyed.  “It is a silly human tradition.”

With a shrug, she said, “So are wedding ceremonies, but still, here we are.”

I ignored her comment, because it was asinine. “Besides, you really expect me to go dance with one of those … those harpies, as the humans say?” I asked.  “The last time I was polite to a female, she ended up stalking me!”

“Lynn was adorable.”

“I was talking about Wetmore and you know it.”

“I suppose I did.”  She rested her chin on her hand.  “You’re going to be pig-headed, aren’t you?”

“Depends on what it is I’m supposed to be pig-headed about.”

“If I asked you for a dance, you’d refuse on principle, wouldn’t you?”

I frowned at her term _principle_ , as well as felt an unwanted worry in the pit of my stomach.  There were many things that could be called principle. “What principle?”

“The one of being a party-pooper, of course.”  She smirked at me.  “Well, you wouldn’t, would you?”

“I’m sorry; your poor grasp of your native language has confused me.  Wouldn’t refuse or wouldn’t dance?” I asked, perhaps stalling.

Matilda shrugged.  “Whichever you prefer.”

“Is this a hypothetical question?”

“Possibly.”

I sighed.  “I can’t say, I suppose.  Because whatever I answer, I will be trapping myself.”

“You think too much and are way too suspicious.”

“Notice I’m still alive.”

“Notice _I’m_ still alive, and I’m naïve and trusting.”

“And notice we have to continually save your life,” I countered with a smile, folding my hands in front of me. 

“I seem to recall coming to your rescue a few times.”

“Really?  I can’t seem to think of any.”

“You’re blocking, dear.  Your ego simply can’t acknowledge the truth,” Matilda sighed dramatically, patting my wrist.

I chuckled. “Isn’t it, _I can’t handle the truth_?”

“And you can’t!” she smirked as she leaned back.  “So, ask me for a dance.”

I blinked.  “I thought you were supposed to ask.”

“But if I ask, you seem to think whatever answer you give will _trap_ you.”  She made bunny ears in her quote.  “So, in order to keep your ego uncrushed, I will give you the power to control the conversation.”

I could feel my face twisting, either in horror or amusement, I don’t know which.  This is why humans make themselves so high on my list, because they are clever enough to be clever.  Of course, they usually fall short on actually _being_ clever when they try to be clever.  “There is a basic fallacy in your logic.”

“Really?”

“Yes, because actually the power and control would be in the hands – or would it be mouth – of the person who gets to answer.  So you’re actually taking power away from me, and you’re lying about it, which makes it worse.”

She laughed.  “You caught me, I guess.”

“I did.  Because I’m suspicious and think too much.”

“And you’re still going to ask me.”

“I am?  I thought we didn’t want to damage my ego?”

“It’s a pesky human tradition.  Guys ask girls, except for Sadie Hawkins, of course.  Besides, if I ask, you can say no, and I don’t want to give you that power.  So,” she straightened and waited expectantly.

I stared straight back and smiled.  I could play this game.

“You do owe me.  I danced with three men who only danced with me so girls could come ask you to.”

“You could have turned them down,” I pointed out.

“True,” she conceded.  Then she smiled.  “You also owe me because you ate my New York cheesecake I bought.”

“Could have been my brother,” I offered.  Never admit to something when there is no solid evidence.

“Funny, he said the same thing.  Where is your honesty?”

“Obviously where the cheesecake is.  If there ever was one.”

“There was.  Some four-eyes just ate it.”

“Evidence,” I replied sweetly.

She made a mocking smile.  “You’re procrastinating.”

“No.  I am merely keeping my hold on the power and control in this conversation.  My ego, remember?”

“Yes, and it would _kill_ you if I said no, wouldn’t it?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.  “Is this another trick question?” I asked, leaning forward.

“What do you think?”

“I think if I just got up and left, this would all be over.”

“Coward.”

“Strategic retreat,” I corrected.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  I give up.  I’ll go get a plate of cake for you.”

As she stood up, I was suddenly hit with an inexplicably urge to not see her leave.  I don’t know why or where it sprang from, but it was out of my mouth.  “Dance with me?”

Though obviously initially surprised, Matilda’s face split into a wide smile.  “Only if you want to.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t willing to accept the consequences.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You made a statement, not a question.”

She shot me a look.

“I don’t wish to dance,” I admitted.

“Then why—”

“You require that I have to want to.  You did not specify I have to want to _dance_.” I stood up and offered my hand. “May I merely want to see you happy?”

Matilda smiled slightly, blushed a bit.  “I suppose it would be acceptable.”  But, before she took my hand, she stopped and looked at me suspiciously.  “You didn’t get that cheesy line out a book somewhere, did you?”

“I am a bit more original.  I think I got it from a movie.”  I was lying, of course.  I think, anyway.  It is hard to determine how much popular entertainment influences someone.

“Oh, that’s okay, then.”  She took my hand and, I think, nearly dragged me to the floor.

It was in the middle of a song, a song which was probably titled _Livin’ On a Prayer_ , as that phrase was repeated several times. 

“You have to give me a whole song, you know,” Matilda said after, it time with the song, she took my hand and twirled over.  “So I’m actually happy.”

“Of course.”

She smiled at me and soon the song finished.   The next song came on, and I was slightly surprised that it was a slow song.  Matilda looked at me, slightly nervous, before putting her arms up.  After a pause, I joined and started going through the motions. 

As a slow song, it was required to talk about love and whatnot, though it seemed to start with rushing days having some sort of calm surrender or some other lyrical prose nonsense.  At first, I averted my eyes and tried to concentrate on anything else than the nearby warmth and scents.  But before long I chided myself.  I was being childish.  I could dance with the female and remain detached.  It wasn’t like it was anything important.  So I smiled and looked down to meet her gaze, to just simply dance and move, live in the moment.

It was probably not as energetic as my dance with Lynn, but it was about as pleasant, though in a different way.  Matilda was a far more accomplished dancer than the child was, and the height difference was far more acceptable. 

Her eyes were very blue …

And she was saying something.

“—nks for the dance.”

Oh, the music had ended.  I cleared my throat and stepped away, trying to smile.  “Of course.  May we depart now?”

“Yeah.”  She ran a hand through her hair.  “I’ll go get the cake.  You should tell Ax.”

“Yes.  Of course.  See you at the car.”

I watched her go before giving myself a mental shake.  As I went off to find my sibling, I wondered if I should take a shower when I got home.

****


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts of Life

I rubbed my human eyes, feeling the grittiness associated with too little sleep.  It had been a tiring yesterday, a long night, a longer morning, and a dragging afternoon.  The battles spread intermittently had given me a much-needed adrenaline boost, but I could feel myself crashing.  And forced to morph, already a tiring experience, made it worse.

But at least the Yeerk operation had been stopped at the airport, and the army base, and the massage center, and … and wherever else we had had to fight.  Hopefully they had learned their lesson that running us ragged in their plans would not deter us, because the next time they try the lesson, we might be forced to learn it.

“Are you going to be all right, Elfangor?” Matilda asked, concerned as we stopped at the park.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“You look exhausted.”

I couldn’t even muster energy to glare at her, turning off the van and stepping out.  The voices in the not-distance gave me a headache.

“Loren is right, Elfangor,” Aximili said, his head leaning out the window.  “You should return home.  This is unlikely to be anything more than good _Sharing_ publicity.  You said so yourself.”

“Where Visser Three might be present,” I snapped.  As if I was going to allow the children to face him alone if I could help it.  Just like I wasn’t going to let them go into battle without me.  “Stick your head in before I decapitate you.”

Aximili dropped his head inside and I slid the window shut a bit harder than necessary. 

“Well, you at least better relax tonight,” Matilda said as she opened the back and withdrew a blanket and bag.  “You made everyone else work in shifts so they’d be rested.”

I wanted to say that I wasn’t a child, but it just wasn’t worth it.  “Come on.”

The park was filled with families, resting just on the ocean side.  The brisk sea breeze woke me slightly, gave me a slight jolt, and it allowed me to guide us to a slightly secluded grassy area, away from the more jubilant families.

“Nice spot,” Matilda said approvingly, tossing out of the blanket and sitting on it.  I fairly collapsed down as well.  “Do you see any of the others?”

“No,” Aximili said, bothering with his kite.  He liked the hobby, and it made a good marker for where we would be.  “They will find us soon, though.  May I go fly a kite?”

I waved my hand, lying on my back with my eyes closed and forearm over them to block the remaining sunlight.  “Be careful.”

With my eyes still closed, I heard him move away and Matilda dig through the bag.  “Do you want some suntan lotion?”

“No.”

“You should put some on.”

I didn’t answer, because it didn’t matter.  I would morph out in less than an hour and start the whole process again.  I wasn’t going to move for something that was completely pointless.  Instead I just listened to the background noises, the ocean and birds, and, yes, I dozed.  But not for long, because eventually the children came up.  Everyone spoke and food had to be bought from the vendors.  I roused myself enough to eat, smile at the equivalents of, “Elfangor, you look like crap.”

Eventually Aximili and I had to demorph.  For a moment, I seriously contemplated using the nearby Porta-Potties, then good sense returned and we took to the distant stalls. 

“Elfangor, if you wish to sleep, I will make sure you do not rest too long,” Aximili said on the way back, and I smiled my thanks.  And, when I got back to our spot, I instantly rested on the blanket and was probably asleep within the minute.  It seemed hardly a minute later I was being shaken awake.  My skin was an angry red.

The second time I regained consciousness because the smell of sulfur drew me out.  Not completely, but enough that I was aware that it was getting dark.  I had enough sense to check my time remaining, less than half an hour, and who was around me, only Matilda, reading a novel lit by a book light and sitting in a beach chair, before relaxing.  I could see small children playing with sparklers and other hot, smoky things that humans insist are interesting and, to use the colloquialism, cool.

“The fireworks should be starting in a little while,” Matilda’s voice said, and I blinked blearily at her before shrugging and closing my eyes again.  I should demorph.  That would be the responsible thing to do.

“You should demorph now, while you’re awake, because God knows if I have to actually wake you up in five minutes, you’ll try to remove my head with the tail you don’t have,” she added, as if she could read my thoughts.  Sometimes, I wondered if humans actually could, that it was just a talent I lacked because my human form was actually a morph.  But then I actually _thought_ about that and made sure to never voice such logic – or lack of it – to anyone else.

I grunted and staggered to the stalls, dodging children and adults and stepping on stones and sticks, having forgotten to put on my sandals.  In the stall I took my time demorphing, seriously almost considered just staying there and sleeping, then gathered my energy and morphed back to a human.

“Elfangor, you should have stayed home, damn the risk,” I mumbled.  Then you could have slept uninterrupted.  And there wouldn’t have been any annoying humans around.

When I made it back to the blanket, Matilda had been resuming her sitting position.  “You had been gone for so long, I was going to go after you.”

“As you can see, I’ve made it,” I said, lying on my back.  I could hear humans lighting small fireworks, adding more sulfur and smoke to the air. 

“Still tired?”  I gave her a look.  “You work too hard.  Here.”  She moved her low chair over and I felt her lift my head and upper body.  I fought her for a second.  “Just relax.  There, isn’t that better?”

“Very well,” I mumbled, and it was, I suppose.  Her stomach and torso were much softer than the blanket-covered ground, after all.  My eyes closed of their own volition when her fingers caressed my scalp and threaded through my hair.  I had always loved it when my Loren had done that, and I sighed and shifted unconsciously. 

I must have fallen asleep again, because I woke with a jolt at an explosion, was already sitting up and preparing to _do_ something, until I comprehended Matilda’s words, “Easy, Elfangor.  It’s just the fireworks,” and her arms around my shoulders, trying to hold me down.  I fell back and stared up at the display, as others joined it, as the chemicals glowed and burned.  Some copper compound for the blues, strontium for the reds, bariums were green.

“Where is Aximili?” I mumbled, it coming to me that he wasn’t present because I couldn’t hear his comments on the utter simplicity of this display.  I thought he would say something like that.

Her voice was by my ear.  “He’s with Tobias and the others.  The show is better by the water.”

Well, so long as they weren’t going on missions without me.  I shifted and watched the explosions through half-lidded eyes, unfocused, unconsciously determining the make-up of the fireworks and the way the charges had to have been set in the rocket just by the colors and patterns I saw.  It was an old habit.  I always did it when I had been human at any fireworks show, a trait Loren had found annoying. 

My lips twitched with a smile and in my stupor I thought about Loren and fireworks.  She loved them and always took me to see them.  If there had been a human sports game that was to have them, Loren would somehow manage to find a spot to see them without actually attending.  She took me to my first fireworks display, and I allowed myself to think back then.

_“Elfangor, if you’re going to figure out how each one was made, then do it silently,” she scolded, annoyance coloring her features as she turned to look at me.  The explosions tinted her face with shadows.  “Some of us are trying to enjoy the show.”_

_“Then you’d better watch it,” I said, leaning over to whisper it quietly and trying to look repentant.  I wasn’t really, and Loren knew it.  She had dragged me to this primitive display, insisting that to be a true human I had to see fireworks.  There was the unspoken,_ and like it _, to her words as well._

_But that was hard.  There were bugs that still braved the smoke, mosquitoes that bit. It was hot and muggy.  The ground was hard and sitting for long periods on it made my backside hurt.  There was a sore on my left heel that stung if I put pressure on it.  My shoulders were sunburned.  Being human … all it was was being uncomfortable, even as long as I had been a nothlit.  And to enjoy a primitive pyrotechnic display?_

_But I tried to hold my tongue, to not show off.  Instead, I focused on the physics of it, the angles, speed, and everything.  But that only made me annoyed, recalling my physics class just that afternoon.  The professor had thoroughly embarrassed me, or I had embarrassed myself.  I had fallen asleep in the class – it was so boring, I cannot be blamed!_

_He had yelled my name and I had woken, opening my eyes to possibly one of the scariest humans on the planet directly in front of me, and gave a muted scream.  Professor Hunter, I am sorry to say, is not a pleasing human to observe.  He is old, thin, with wrinkles and veins, and his eyes are magnified by his glasses.  He smells oddly and his head is strangely shaped._

_He also does not like me.  Possibly because I am smarter than him.  Or that I have hair and he does not._

_And my embarrassment had not ended there.  He had demanded I go to the board and answer his question.  I tried not to, wiping off the drool from my chin, face hot and desperately trying to ignore the class laughing at me, but he ordered me._

_And the problem … it was child’s play.  I didn’t know what to do.  I, too embarrassed, had not told Loren, but I had failed – failed, me, an Andalite who is technologically two centuries ahead of everything! – the last exam because I “hadn’t shown any work”.  He accused me of cheating!  What work could I show?  Wasn’t the answer obvious?  How could they expect me to show work to a problem as simple as 2 plus 2?_

_The class still snickering behind me, I stared at the problem and tried to imitate the steps my human textbooks showed, tried not to do the steps Father taught me.  It was such an easy problem!  My only consolation was that at least it was not as childish as the material from last week._

_Eventually I managed to get to the answer using the human method, though I probably skipped one of their steps or used the wrong symbols.  And I boxed the answer and looked at Professor Hunter, hoping he was pleased._

_He was, in short, not.  Snatching his chalk away, he informed me I had answered the wrong question – a question reserved for another class that used the room, I learned –  and had wasted the class’s time because I wanted to goof off._

_I wanted to argue, “But the answer, it is right!  Do you not see that?”  But I didn’t.  Again the class was laughing at me.  The only saving grace was before I even reached my seat we were dismissed.  I rushed out and back to my room, throwing the books to the floor and kicking my roommate’s shoes out of my way._

_I couldn’t bear to tell Loren, too embarrassed, when she came to visit.  I couldn’t even prove myself to a simple human professor, and not even a very good one, even by humans’ low standards.  I was utterly a failure.  She seemed to realize my mood and thankfully did not ask what had happened.  Instead, she bought me a large sundae, and then said we had to go to see these fireworks for tonight’s game._

_I jumped slightly when I felt Loren’s hand take mine.  “You’re thinking,” she whispered accusingly, though she smiled to let me see she wasn’t scolding._

_“Old habit.”_

_“Give it up.  It’s a bad one.”_

_“I’ll try.”  I could have said how hard it would have been, because I had been an Andalite over a decade and human less than a year.  To not think, as humans do, was very difficult.  But I didn’t, because maybe Loren wouldn’t take it as joke.  “You’re missing your fireworks.”_

_Loren smiled.  “So are you.”  And she looked back to the night sky._

_And I kept looking at her.  The shadows and faint plays of colors that changed her blond hair to faint blues and reds and greens and golds.  My eyes traced the contours of her jaw and ear, her long and straight nose.  Her eyes reflected the patterns in the sky, and the iris seemed to change colors.  My hand was still in her hand, and her thumb moved over my skin._

_Impulsively, suddenly taken with the idea I had seen countless humans do, I leaned over and pressed my lips to her cheek._

_This time, Loren jumped.  “Elfangor!” she exclaimed, eyes wide, and her hand left mine to touch her cheek.  “Why did you do that?”_

_“I’ve seen other humans do it.”  And it seemed like a good idea at the time, though I wasn’t sure why._

_“Oh.  Well, thanks,” she said, and in the dark I couldn’t tell if she was blushing._

_“Should I not have done it?”_

_Loren looked unsure.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.”_

_“How can you not know?”_

_“It’s complicated.”_

_I frowned a bit.  Loren said that about a lot of human things.  “Why?  You did it to me when I was an Andalite, remember?”_

_She rubbed her neck, pushed back her hair.  “Yes, well, that was for luck.”_

_It hadn’t done much good.  “It seems to be a sign of friendship, from what I’ve seen,” I said a bit haughtily.  “If I can see that, it cannot be complicated.”_

_“It can be,” Loren said slowly, shifting her shoulders.  I gave a huff with annoyance.  Loren could be possibly the worst person to try to teach me about being human.  She knew what I thinking.  “Excuse me, but humans are a bit more complicated than Andalites!” she hissed._

_I didn’t know whether or not to be insulted.  “If it is a sign of friendship, I do not see the complexity.”_

_“It’s a sign of affection,” she snapped.  “And to different people it means different things.  My grandma would have thought you were getting fresh, while my mom would probably think it cute.”_

_“‘Getting fresh …?’”I repeated.  Then I decided to make a point, which was a bit more important than getting information.  “Friendship contains affection.”_

_“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Loren muttered.  “All right, I give up, Elfangor.  You’re right, okay.  Now, let’s just watch the fireworks.”_

_I knew I hadn’t won.  She was just aggravated with me and wanted to leave the conversation.  I scowled at her.  “You don’t really think that.”_

_“No, I don’t.”  She didn’t turn her head to look at me.  I scowled harder and crossed my arms._

_It was several explosions before Loren grew uncomfortable with my silence.  “Fine, fine, we can’t let Elfangor just not know something, can we?”  Her voice rang with sarcasm._

_“No?” I replied warily._

_“Right.  And you know why people interpret kisses on cheeks differently?”_

_“No.”_

_“Because,” she started, then paused.  And then she took my face in her hands, and suddenly her lips were on my lips.  Lips on a human are very sensitive, but I was surprised at the feelings it invoked.  My stomach felt strange, suddenly heavy, and my skin seemed to tingle.  All of these responses came in a few moments, moments where Loren was suddenly drawing away when it suddenly came that maybe I could do something.  “Because someone’s cheek is very close to their lips.”_

_That didn’t quite make sense to me, but I was trying to process my first kiss.  I thought perhaps I needed to experience another one and was wondering how to go about it._

_“Elfangor?”_

_I jerked, surprised out of my daze.  Loren was looking at me, worried, and suddenly I thought, perhaps I could just kiss her back.  It had been pleasurable.  “I am fine.  May I kiss you?”_

_This time, I could see Loren blush.  “No, you can’t,” she said, averting her eyes._

_“Why not?”_

_“Elfangor,” she sighed, “there will be some things you probably won’t be able to understand for a while yet.”_

_I felt insulted.  “You kissed me.  I do not see why I cannot do so as well.”_

_“I was making a point!” Loren said.  “Kissing is …it’s not something you do because it feels nice.  People do it to show they like someone.  As in like-like.  Like … love.”_

_I blinked at her.  “Oh.”  So no more kissing.  “I understand,” I said, looking down and suddenly feeling embarrassed, as if I had just tried to wrap tails with a female Andalite._

_“Okay.  Good.  Now let’s watch.  The finale will be coming up soon.”  Loren smiled and leaned up against me.  And I looked down, my lips having phantom tingles, and then finally watched the fireworks._

I smiled the memory.  The distance brought with time and experience showed how utterly childish and naïve I was, how much I pouted like a petulant child when Loren had not done as I wished.  I was lucky she didn’t simply wash her hands of me.   Back then I had still desperately clung to the parts of me that remained me, that tied me to my past as an Andalite, while I struggled with my new identity.  It was an identity, I could now admit, that then I hadn’t wanted to embrace as much as I thought I did.  I hadn’t wanted to be human.  I had to be.  Those years ago I had been desperately trying to believe that I was a _nothlit_ because I really wanted to be one.  Of course it was a choice, make no mistake, but the reasons for the choice mattered.  I wanted to want to be human, not wanted to want it so I could leave my past, my mistakes, behind.

Now, of course, I realized this.  And, yes, while sometimes I embraced the idea of being human, I did not want it.  I had been a _nothlit_ once, left my Andalite form for what should have been forever, and had no desire to do so again. And I was not hiding behind this war as an excuse.  The fancy might hit me at odd moments, but I was an Andalite first, a human second.  They were both my people, and my allegiances may be conflicted, but I was secure in knowing myself in this sense.

Yet … sometimes the idea of being human is appealing.  I had been, in a broad sense, normal as a human.  I was no national hero on Earth, not Elfangor, the War-Prince, the Beast, the numerous titles that followed me.  (Added now might be Elfangor, the Disgraced, the next Seerow.)   I was a simple human male, no different or more important than any other, except that I could solve any computer glitch or mathematical problem. 

There was much about being human that was worth the trouble, the sights and sounds and tastes (especially the tastes) and the planet. True, humans weren’t very logical and were patently ridiculous to see, but they had potential.

For example, there was a quaint appeal to human fireworks, I would agree, especially in my current lethargic state.  They were relaxing and they probably triggered chemical releases in the human brain.  Almost any reasonably intelligent being will watch something blow up, especially if makes pretty colors and, this part is perhaps the most important, is very far away.

Hmm, sounds like what I was doing to my life, my military career.  On a planet far, far, far away, I was disgraced.  Spectacularly.  I had broken _Seerow’s Kindness_.  And my life, could it be doing anything but blowing up in my face? 

I smiled sleepily.  It didn’t matter.  For the moment, I would watch the show.  At least here I could determine all of the components that made the explosion.

The ones for the fireworks, I mean.  Not my life or career.

They really were spectacular, when I simply let myself watch them.  Still quaint, though.

 ****

“Why are you putting holes in my wall?” I asked with forced casualness, trying not to seem too curious in my question. 

Matilda gave me a look that spoke of my idiocy.  “I’m hanging some different pictures.”

“Why?  And I like that picture,” I added in a wounded tone, indicating frame that was leaning against the wall.

“Elfangor, it’s a landscape.  Every picture you have is a landscape.”

Well, yes.  How else did you get the outdoors inside?  I was an Andalite, and these little illusions of space gave me a peace of mind.  “Of course.  I like them.”

“I wondered where I got that impression.”  She stopped hammering the small hooks into the wall and picked up the landscape.

Since I am good at visual measurements, I had to point out, “The picture won’t fit there anymore.” 

“Because it’s not going back up.” 

I followed her.  “But I like that picture.”

“I’ve got some other ones, instead,” she continued, going towards the kitchen.  I could see on the table a stack of smaller picture frames.

“What, of crying clowns?”  Isn’t that what humans put up, when they didn’t put up lovely landscapes or pictures of florals?

“I got the Chee to help,” she continued, giving me a glare as she set the painting down.  “They took it as a challenge.”

Now I really was curious.  Why did the Chee have to be involved?  I stepped towards the table to look at the pictures and was surprised to see myself in the frame.  Except not me.  Younger, like how I had looked those many years ago and then sometimes not.  And there, a boy who could have been what Aximili’s morph would have looked like as a young child.

The rest pictures were similar.  There were of, for lack of a better way to explain, _Alan_ and _Alexander_ at various stages of life. Usually outside.  With other humans, presumably their parents.  

“These are … are simply remarkable.”

“I’ll have to tell the Chee you think so,” Matilda smiled.  “I think they even enjoyed themselves.”

“Why?” I asked, looking up at her, away from such a human imitation of me, of a lie.  “Why did you have them do this?  There was no purpose.”

Matilda leaned her hip against the table and crossed her arms.  “No purpose?  Elfangor, have you actually looked at your home?”

A crease came on my brow as I contemplated her question, unsure of what she meant and a little vexed.  Why could she just not say what the problem was without the rhetorical questions?  Humans are very fond of them.  “Of course, and it is very nice, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, _of course_ it is.  Absolutely lovely.  But there’s no proof someone lived here.  It took me a while to notice it.  Well, no, I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what, until it hit me when I was hanging up that wedding dance Marco gave me.”  She gave me a smirk and I rolled my eyes.  There had been much cooing and mockery over that piece of canvas when she had hung it up.  I had been two steps away from taking the picture down and hiding it in the attic before the novelty finally wore off. “This place has no personal effects.  It’s like a bed and breakfast.”

“I don’t need personal effects.”  Andalites, in general, did not, at least not in the sense that humans did.  Perhaps it was because humans lived in houses, a finite space, and felt the need to fill it to the brim.  An Andalite could never fill all of nature.

“Probably not,” Matilda agreed in a way that clearly said she didn’t.  “But they help.  And look at Ax, wasn’t he a cute devil?” she said, picking up a picture of a young _Alexander_ , pretending she could scratch his chin through the glass.

“Cuter as an Andalite,” I countered.

She grinned.  “I’m sure he was.  So, do you like them?”

I put the picture down on the table and avoided looking at the others.  “It doesn’t matter if I do.  You seem intent on putting them up.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

A snort escaped before I could stop it.  “Please.  Do give a lie with at least a minute possibility.”

“Why do you think everything I say is a lie?”

“I didn’t say everything.”

“You allude.”  Matilda shook her head, then moved towards the table. “Here, I want to show you something.” I took a step back and watched as she opened a book, a normal book, Shakespeare, and flipped through the pages.  I could see scraps of paper as markers, and strained my neck to see what she was looking for.  Finally, she stopped and pulled out a piece of paper, four by six inches.  “What do you think?”

I took it warily and looked.  Then frowned.  “It is just my morph.  Younger, of course.  Looks like it was taken indoors, in a bar, most likely.”  The picture had my morph leaning against a counter and holding a glass with an amber liquid, smiling at the camera.  The Chee had even gone through the trouble of making it appear aged, as if it had been handled these many years.  I looked up to see Matilda watching me intently, and I handed the picture over.  “Why?”

For a moment she seemed uncertain, as if she wanted to say something, and then changed her mind.  “It’s nothing.  Just see how thorough the Chee were.”

“Right.”  I didn’t believe her.  She was looking for something, expecting it, but I hadn’t delivered, or maybe I had, but not the way she wanted.  In either case, I didn’t care.  “Put up what you wish, but don’t go overboard.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out for a run.”  Smiling slightly, I added over my shoulder, “Your hammering’s giving me a headache.”

 ****

The children found the pictures amusing.  And I found that apparently I was the only one who didn’t know Matilda was doing this.

“The Chee did a very good job,” Aximili said as he examined the photos on the wall later that evening.  “Though, of course, I am not surprised.”

“I’m glad they meet everyone’s approval,” Matilda laughed from the couch.  “Or almost everyone’s.”

I sighed.  “I do not mind their presence or not.  I merely think it was an inconvenience that the Chee did not have to go through.  It would have been just as easy to say any pictures we had were destroyed in a fire or similar catastrophe, or that our family wasn’t one to take pictures.”

“Now you need to say neither,” Matilda said.

“Indeed.”  I shook my head at the pointless of everything.  We had Yeerks to fight, and to worry about photographs?  I did not spend or risk my life worrying about such trivial things. 

“Do you think in this picture I look like Marco?” Aximili asked.  “Rachel said so, but I do not see it.”

I stared at my little brother in shock at his words.  “Your _morph_ ,” I said, stressing the words, “is made up of equal parts of the children.  It is not unreasonable that you would bear a slight resemblance to Marco.”

“I think she meant that you look a little silly,” Matilda interjected.

Aximili tilted his head.  “I am human in it.  Of course I look silly.”  I smiled at his joke, intentional or otherwise, and Matilda was not insulted.  “I merely do not think I bear any resemblance to Marco.”

“It is very slight,” Matilda said.  Obviously she was lying, because I could easily see any of the children in Aximili’s morph if I tried.  After all, approximately 20% of his DNA came from each of them.  “Just hope no one asks why you don’t look like your brother.”

“I look very much like Elfangor, as an Andalite, of course.  Is it very troubling that I don’t when I am human?”

“No,” I said.  “I’ve taken care of that.  Do you think I would be so sloppy as to not worry that point away?”  I meant the question in jest, though Aximili thought me to be insulted and apologized. 

“I didn’t mean to imply that, Elfangor.  Of course you would have thought to take care of it.”  Sometimes the obsequiousness my brother displayed set me on edge.  I couldn’t tell if it was his character or if he was playing.  Then again, perhaps I am too used to _aristh_ s trying to get into my good graces, always suspicious of their motives and not recognizing Aximili’s general contriteness.  Aximili continued.  “It is my own fault I am ignorant of my contrived history.”

He was never interested, it was true.  When I had finalized everything, Aximili had been still new to Earth, angry at my easy acceptance of the planet and of the humans, and firm in his resolution to remain Andalite in all avenues.  The time since then had tempered him, though Aximili would forever be Andalite.  “Hardly.  If it was so important, it is my fault in not telling you.”

“Listening to you two try to take blame is like listening to hoity-toities,” Matilda interrupted. “Your formal words and your tones.  I can’t figure out if it’s just you two or if all Andalites sound like uptight prigs.”

Aximili and I stared at her and her smile.  In the back of my mind I wondered which would be worse, if it were merely our character or our species.  My brother chose not to let the moment sit.  “What did you do to explain us, Elfangor?”

It took me a moment to register the question.  “We are half-brothers.  My mother died when I was young and my father remarried your mother.  Should someone actually compare our morphs’ DNA, it would be explained that biologically you have no connection to me because, since our father at that time could not sire another child, a surrogate was used.”

Aximili nodded as if it all made sense, but Matilda asked, “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just say he had been adopted?”

I stared at her without comprehension.

“You honestly never thought how much trouble you would have saved if you had just done that?” she continued, sounding amused.  “And it sounds much more feasible that what you made-up, which is only a step away from saying Ax’s mom had an affair.”

Aximili made a sound of disgust.  “No, she would not have. She may not be real, but my human mother would have had morals.”

Matilda laughed.  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Ax.  I’m just saying it really isn’t the most thought-out or logical, Elfangor.”

“Perhaps,” I allowed, a bit upset at her point because it was logical and mine was not, and it had taken her pointing it out for me to see it, “but I did not wish Aximili to be so wholly unconnected to me.  He is my brother and I want to preserve the idea that we are biologically related, in some small portion.”

My brother smiled at my admission of affection for him.  For an Andalite to wish to be family, it is a high compliment, a fact humans did not know of because Matilda rolled her eyes at my reasoning.  In fact, variations of the question are asked prospective mates their intended, such as _Will you allow me to be part of your family?_ or _May I ask you to join my family?_ But it was a great dishonor when your family did not acknowledge you as being part of them, and I would not treat Aximili that way.  “I am honored.”

“Andalites,” Matilda said.

“Yes.”  Aximili smiled.  “What else should I know about our human history?”

I thought about it.  “Our parents died in a car accident approximately a month prior to our being stranded on Earth.  Their names were Norman Samuel and Ester Rose Fangor, nee Garrett.  My mother’s name had been Maureen Florence.  Your date of birth is May 1st, which matched your Andalite date at the time.”  The differences between Earth and our planet constantly moved the date, as Earth’s year was less than our own.  The birth _date_ would remain the same, but not the birth _day_.  “Mine would be August 9th.”  It was the day I became a human _nothlit_.  “Otherwise, there is very little that is important for you to be aware of.  It is why I hadn’t bothered to inform you.”

“Yes, things like their jobs and birthdays are pointless trifles,” Matilda said.

“As you say.”

“I was being sarcastic,” she said needlessly, because I could tell when humans were being sarcastic.  I was not Aximili.  Matilda looked thoughtful.  “You should have told us about your birthdays.  We could have had a party.  With cake and ice cream, possibly presents.”

“Cake and ice cream?” Aximili repeated with a gluttonous gleam, then turned to me.  “Elfangor, why did you not tell them our birthdays?”

Because I hated the parties, except for the food.  But I didn’t say that, because it would bring questions of my past.  “It did not seem important.  You do not know when the children’s birthdays are, after all.”

“Because they did not tell me.  Obviously they did not wish to alienate me, under the mistaken belief that Andalites did not celebrate a day of birth,” Aximili said swiftly.  There was food at the end of the line.  “It really is all a cultural misunderstanding that we must remedy at once.”

I laughed, as did Matilda.  “Must we?”

“Yes.”

“And hope that one of their birthdays is near, so we may feast upon the cake and ice cream, I suppose?”

“I did not say that,” Aximili said.  “A day of birth is a very important, sacred thing.  It should be celebrated, preferably with cake and ice cream.”

I inclined my head and tried not to let my smile overtake my face.

“My birthday is in two weeks,” Matilda said.  “On the fifteenth.”

Her words were remarkably unhelpful, and I frowned in contemplation.  “I thought it was the 27th of January.”

“No, it isn’t, and I haven’t the foggiest where you got that idea.”

I suddenly did and blanched.  The 27th of January was the date I put on Matilda’s information.  The fifteen, that was Loren’s.  For a second I felt something in me jerk, just a second, felt the illusion waver, but I pushed it back up.  “My mistake.”

“Will you have a cake?” Aximili asked.

She laughed.  “Only if you get me a present.”

Aximili nodded and said seriously, “Consider it a deal, then.”

I groaned.

 ****

“Aren’t you going to get something for Loren as well, brother?” Aximili asked as I took a seat in the dining area of the mall.  Tobias and Rachel, who offered her expertise in these matters, were ahead waiting.

I made a face.  “I dislike shopping.”

My brother frowned, almost with disapproval.  “Loren is our friend.  Should you not get her something?”

“It is a poor friendship if I have to give her something,” I said a bit testily.  “Go.  Rachel and Tobias are waiting.”

Aximili gave me one last parting look before rushing to the others.  I shook my head as they disappeared into the crowd.  Aximili had been very for the idea of the party, and I hesitate to say it was completely because of the food.  Perhaps he did mean this in the friendship it was intended.  He certainly was taking the idea of her gift seriously, and he was dragging me along for the ride.  Dragging an unwilling me, might I clarify.

Why must I give a gift?  I had saved her life – more than once, even.   Shouldn’t that trump the silly obligation to buy a gift?  Especially since I did not consider that close of a friend.  More of an acquaintance, an unwanted housemate. 

I bought a coffee and a large muffin, dining on them as I watched the humans.  I had always disliked the mall.  It was too crowded, too confined, too … concrete.  To combat such negatives, I sat under a tree and skylight, in the lone patch of sunlight.  And most of the wares sold did not interest me.  The majority of the stores specialized in clothing.  While I understood the importance of looking nice, took pains to do so, I did not actually like to deal with clothing, to shop for it.  Perhaps part of it may be because I’m tall.  Not obscenely so, understand, but I was taller than most human males.  It was difficult to find clothes that fit comfortably. 

Once the coffee and treat were gone, I leaned in the seat, getting antsy.  I wouldn’t blame the caffeine, because it merely made my state more pronounced.  As I said, I didn’t like the mall.  I didn’t those years ago, and I still don’t.  Now, even worse, because I missed my stalk eyes, felt like I should just have to open them and I could see, except that I couldn’t open them.  It was the same with my tail.  Phantom limbs.  Intellectually, I knew they weren’t there, but instinctually, I thought they should be.

Hardly five minutes after I finished my snack, I had to move.  Andalites, inherently, do not stay in one spot when nervous.  Most animals that were prey in their evolution don’t.  Not that Andalites run away, of course!  No, we are a very brave species and can, and will, stand our ground.  However, there is a difference between facing an enemy and merely feeling uneasy.

The problem was merely moving would not get rid of my feelings of unease.  I was still in a crowd and in a concrete building.  However, it did lessen them, which, for the time being, would do well enough.  I walked and glanced through the windows.

About a half an hour I had the distinct feeling I was being followed.  I give credit to this brilliant deduction by my great hearing.  Every time I turned my head, a group of female humans little older than the children and not thirty feet behind me whispered and giggled.   And my great hearing could have been considered too great when I heard some of their comments.  I felt my face heat and felt foolish that human comments should affect me so. 

Then again, if Andalite females had been saying the equivalent what they were saying, I probably would have ducked my eyes and ears and felt some of my fur fluff slightly. 

In any case, I did my best to ignore them.  After all, they certainly couldn’t plan to spend their time following me indefinitely.  They came to mall for a reason, and it surely wasn’t to stalk Andalites!

Even still, I made a point to walk faster, refusing to feel like prey.

I had been darting past a glass display before something caught my eye, and I had to double back and stare at it.  My hand touched the cool glass.

It was not anything especially grand.  It was merely a necklace, a simple stone of aluminum oxide, with traces of iron or titanium, set in silver.  Sapphire in silver.  The light from the display created a white star, asterism.  Truly, it was so remarkably small I shouldn’t have noticed it.  It wasn’t even under main display, but in a small side one.  But it was blue.  It was Andalite blue, or at least the color my family genetically showed, which was the color by slight majority most Andalites were disposed to be.  

Staring at it, memories came up unbidden.  Something old, something new.  Something borrowed, something blue.  And a penny in her shoe.  I snapped my hand back as if bit, but it hovered again over the glass.  And my eyes continued to stare, my mind continued to remember.

“Can I help you today, sir?”

 ****

The party was a small, little affair around lunch.  The children arrived and the treats were disposed of, the gifts given out.  None were especially grand past the thought and heart, which is all a gift truly needs to possess.  Rachel had given a shirt and skirt outfit; Cassie, a small ornament; Marco, a gift card, as “nothing’s better than money”; Jake, a book filled with short stories; Tobias, a small charm bracelet; and Aximili, a box of gourmet chocolates that had not been opened, at all.  That, in my opinion, was very a noble gift. 

I was not so very blind to not notice their signs of disapproval at there being no gift from me.  Aximili gave me a near-glare, which certainly showed his displeasure.  Matilda seemed disappointed, but it was attempted to be hidden.  The others showed some mixture of disappointment, pity, anger, and indifference.  But no one actually said anything, and I did not let their looks wound me too much, if at all.

The children left within a couple of hours, save Tobias, who would be spending the night.  He would sleep – as he always had – in what was officially Aximili’s room, as my brother didn’t bother with it.  Aximili would not sleep in the house, since I had the rule of not being an Andalite while inside, save on the second floor or between morphs. He unilaterally refused sleeping in the cramp bedroom, citing that he wouldn’t sleep at all, though negating to mention that the four close walls were reason. Matilda had suggested that Tobias could sleep outside in the small tent that was buried somewhere in the garage – I knew exactly where, though it would take almost an hour to extract it – if they wished for a continued late night in company.  Tobias deliberated the idea momentarily, then declined, to my relief.  (I truly hadn’t wished to find … that is, retrieve the tent.)

When those three went to the living room, I took care of the dishes and few leftovers, giving much of them to Champ.  (I fear I spoil the canine.)  I then lingered needlessly, sitting and petting Champ’s head.  I didn’t wish to integrate myself with the trio.  There was an uneasy feeling within me, especially when I heard them laugh.  I don’t know what it was or what caused it, but I had a feeling it would be worse if I did join them.  Not that I would join them.  I could imagine how it would be.  I would sit in the chair in the corner and merely sit quietly and listen, perhaps giving a few token responses, while they, on the sofa, would go swiftly from topic to topic.  Sometimes that would be all right and sometimes not.  I did not mind that my brother got along so well with Tobias and Matilda.  Indeed, it gave me a deep pleasure.  But that did not mean it didn’t bring other feelings to my mind and hearts, things I did not wish to think about. 

I could barely make out their conversation, and for a moment I stood just past the threshold between the rooms, where I was just out of their sight in case they thought to look, listening.  Aximili was regaling them of Andalite birthday customs, and I hoped it would not enter their minds to put them into practice.  Both my and Aximili’s birthdays were far too close to in the future for me to not be worried about such an idea.

Champ leaned against me, startling me out of the moment.  I looked down at him and he looked up at me, content and probably happy.  I scratched his ear, then moved back to take the back way up the stairs, ever careful that the boards wouldn’t squeak under me.  Champ had followed me only to the steps, then turned to go back to his mistress and the more lively company. 

Once on the landing, I started to strip and demorph before entering my room, tossing the clothes into the hamper and shutting the door behind me.  Then I settled to review Yeerk activities, hoping they would leave me be for the remainder of the day.

Only once, only for a moment, did I stop and open the drawer of my bedside table to look at the small box with a careful bow on top.  And then I had very carefully closed the drawer.

They were wrong.  Even if it’s out of sight, it isn’t out of mind.

 ****

There was a knock on my bedroom door and I opened one of my stalk eyes and turned it over as I said, ‹Enter.›

The door opened and Tobias cautiously stuck his head in, looking nervous.  I was surprised, as Tobias was not one to intrude upon me, and let my main eyes leave the screen to give him my full attention.  “Hey, Elfangor.  You’re not … busy, are you?”

‹No, not especially.›  Now I was curious.  ‹Is something amiss?›

Tobias shook his head, then amended it.  “Well, not really.  Ax suggested that we go out.  To eat,” he added.  “Something about a formal affair, or something.  I sort of stopped paying attention.”

I nodded.  ‹Yes, I understand.›  Both about Aximili and about the idea of formalizing.  ‹Thank you for telling me of your plans so I would not worry.›

“Oh, no.  Mom wants you to come along.  We all want you to, like a family thing.”  I stared at him, froze a little.  He couldn’t realize how his words affected me, how much guilt and joy and pain and hope they brought.  I closed my stalk eyes, because closing my main eyes would show too much emotion.  Tobias seemed aware that his words were not exactly what I wished to hear, perhaps because I wanted to hear them.  “You don’t have to.  I’ll say something, like you just found a really interesting Yeerk activity and can’t get away, but it’s just that Mom thinks you’re alone too much, and Ax, he’s just really going overboard with this whole thing anyway, I think.”

I nodded, looking away to the bed.  That would be my little brother. 

“I think we’re going to O’Hare’s.”  Here Tobias made a bit of a face, and I had to smile.  While not very a formal locale, I would not wish to take Aximili to O’Hare’s unless I could sedate him.  “Mom’s getting changed and Ax is attempting to find something.  I’ll fix whatever he messes up, though we’ll probably get kicked out of the restaurant.”

Again I smiled.

“So, do you want to come?”

I pondered the request.  I knew what I should say, what would be the best for my peace of mind.  However, Tobias’s words echoed in my mind.  Family.  My dearest desire, for it to be so, or to acknowledge the truth, even to myself.  The Andalite honor of being called family.  ‹I’d be honored to.›

 ****

The conversation was slow.  Perhaps it was because we were eating, perhaps the atmosphere, perhaps the utterly uncomfortable feeling.  That I knew would be my fault.  If three people could have pleasant conversation when I wasn’t present and couldn’t when I was, there was only one variable that could be the cause.  I tried to not think that I should have declined, because it was too late.

I tried not to sigh as I cut into my steak.  Matilda had ordered a pasta dish; Tobias, chicken; and Aximili, after I said firmly he could not order off the dessert menu, ordered a fish-based meal that had lobster, crab, and a fish, salmon or perch or haddock, I couldn’t remember.  I had had to show him how to eat the crustaceans properly, as the little tools were lost on him.

“These eating utensils are not very efficient,” Aximili muttered, trying desperately to get all of the meat from the crab leg.  He had already eaten the body, after I showed him how to remove the apron from the crab’s underside and the other bits of shell.

“Maybe you should try going at it a little slower,” Tobias said helpfully, grinning.

“I do not know why you suggested this, Brother,” Aximili continued, desperately trying to get the last bit of meat from the leg.  Honestly, I would have given up.

“Neither do I.”  I took a drink of my apple sangria, desperately wondering if I was going to have to order something stronger to make it through this.  “Next time, do not ask me.”

“But there were so many choices.  How do you do this again?”

I shook my head.  Aximili had paid enough attention the first three times to know how to retrieve the meat.  “Watch.  Break the leg at a joint, gently twist and pull, and the meat will slide out. See?”

“It does not work when I do it,” Aximili stated, taking the leg and eating it with little finesse. 

“Because you are too impatient,” I said, mashing my potatoes to mix the butter.

“I will not ever be ordering this ever again.  It is too much work.”

Matilda and Tobias chuckled, and I rolled my eyes.  “But doesn’t it taste good?” Matilda asked with a smile.  “Crab is supposed to be a fine delicacy.”

“Oh, I did not say it was not good.  It is just a lot of work.”

“That’s supposed to make it better, I think,” Tobias laughed.  “But, yeah, way too much work.  I’ll stick with chicken.”

“Lazy lout,” Matilda said with affection.

“So says the person eating pasta.”

“Fettuccini aldfredo,” she corrected with a playful sniff.

I shook my head at them and continued eating as they spoke.  I still had most of my plate left because Aximili required the majority of my time, and it was becoming cool.  I disliked eating my food when it was cold.  However, I had to quickly take my drink away when Aximili reached for it.  “No.  Mine.”

Aximili blinked at me, surprised.  Normally, I was not so possessive of my beverages and foods.  Don’t get me wrong; I did not let him take everything of mine, but I was usually willing to give him a bite or sip.  “But I have drunk all of my Spite.”

“It’s alcoholic, Ax,” Tobias said.

“You’re too young,” Matilda added, which quite possibly was the wrong thing to say.

His eyes went wide.  “I am not!  I am an _ari_ —”

‹Aximili!› I scolded sharply.  ‹Mind where you are.›

Aximili looked repentant for a moment, but it faded as his pride reared its tail.  “I am not young.”  Ever since I had told the children of Aximili’s age, Marco and Rachel enjoyed teasing him.  No doubt they thought it harmless, good-natured fun, but I knew Aximili was feeling as if he was being called into question.  I understood it was trying enough to be known as my little brother, and I regretted that my fame was so detrimental to him.  He did not have to be thought of as the “baby” of the group, though he was physically older.

“It is a human law,” I said, setting the glass back down. 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re an alien,” Matilda muttered, and I scowled at her. 

“It is a law,” I repeated, “that any one younger than 21 cannot drink alcoholic beverages.”

“I do not think that is fair,” Aximili said, still miffed.

Tobias said, “It’s not like it’s important.  My uncle drinks all the time, and you’ve seen him.”

Aximili’s nose crinkled while Matilda looked guilty.  “He is an unworthy guardian,” he said with disdain.

“Well, yeah,” Tobias said, rolling his eyes.  “We all already know that.  Works to my advantage that he barely pays any attention to me.”

“I am sorry,” Matilda whispered, setting her hand on his forearm and pain on her face.

“It’s all right.  It wasn’t your fault,” Tobias said, and I had to look away.  It wasn’t.  It was mine, ultimately.  “Anyway, this probably works better.  I get you, but without all the mother-hovering you would have done!”

Matilda laughed.  “Cheeky brat!  I don’t know where you got it from.”

“If alcoholic beverages make one irresponsible, then why are you two drinking them?” Aximili asked.

“There’s nothing wrong if it’s done in moderation, Ax,” Matilda said kindly.  “True, you shouldn’t drink if you’re driving, but your brother will have to … freshen up before we leave anyway.”

I didn’t bother saying that my demorphing and morphing had no guarantee to remove all of the alcohol in my system.  It would nullify most of it, of course, but not all.  It was the same with any sort of poison or venom.  Some always crossed over in the morphs, which is why one should rest after such an encounter.

“Anyway, alcohol tastes awful.  Even you wouldn’t like it,” Tobias said.

“Elfangor does,” Aximili pointed out, looking a little annoyed.  I shook my head at the slip of my name but would not bother to scold him.  It was not the first time it had happened.

“Sangria is a sweet, fruity drink.  I’m not surprised he ordered it,” Matilda said with a smile, as if teasing me.  I would not rise to the bait, continuing to eat.

“So when may I drink?”

“When the other children do,” I said.  It was a good enough answer.  Aximili would not feel alienated, and it would be as a group.  Not that I relished that future event.

“We’re always going to be the children to you, aren’t we?” Tobias asked, grinning.

I raised my head and smiled as well.  “Yes.”

“Even when we’re eighty years old?”

“Even when you’re one hundred eighty.  Besides, what am I supposed to call you?  Animorphs?  The children, is much more serious.”

“You know about the name Animorphs?” Tobias asked.

“There is little about you children that I am not aware of.  And you are not very secretive about it, anyway.”  

He laughed.  “We’re not, I guess.  Blame Marco and his big mouth.”

I smiled and continued cutting the steak.

“Can I get some more to eat?” Aximili asked.

“Once your brother finishes, we’ll order dessert.”  I raised my head to speak, but Tobias beat me to it.

“Here, you better decide now,” Tobias said, handing over the smaller menu.  “I’m having the brownie sundae.”

“The strawberry and chocolate cheesecake.  They make the best in the state,” Matilda said.

“Do they?” Aximili asked intently, eyes darting over the pictures.

“Yes, they do.”

“What are you getting, Brother?”

It wasn’t worth speaking, if their hearts were set.  All I could do was hope they didn’t fill up too quickly.  “I have not decided yet.  I haven’t even finished my main course yet.”

“Well, eat faster.”

I gave Aximili a glare but finished my plate in short order.  Ever efficient, our waiter appeared to remove the last of our dirty dishes before taking our order.  I ordered last, trying to decide.  Desserts were, after all, a serious matter, and I chose a chocolate mousse.  Aximili ordered a large piece of cake, probably because it was a large piece of cake.

Sometimes my brother truly amused me.

“This is nice,” Matilda said.  “We should do this more often.”

“Yes, we should,” Aximili agreed eagerly.

“No,” I disagreed.  “We have more important matters to deal with first.”

“It doesn’t have to be a lot.  It’s easy to be more than never,” Matilda pointed out.

I shook my head, looking away from the group.  It was not worth the words.  Tobias made an effort to change the topic.  “This is delicious, you know.”

“Not as good as this,” Aximili countered.

“No, not as good as this,” Matilda said, mouth full.  “This … this is bliss.”

I did not say my mousse was good, though it was.  It was just a childish argument, and why talk when you can eat? Soon we were all finished, and I leaned back to finish my sangria while the others spoke. 

Part of me was glad to have come.  The company was dear, of course, but the meal was what was important.  But not to me, or even to Aximili (though he would disagree) or Matilda.  I would never speak it, but, since he had been mentioned, I could not help but acknowledge that I did not like or trust Tobias’s uncle.  He was, as Tobias said, a drunk, and I didn’t think he had any sort of reasonable food in that residence or an idea of hygiene.  Personally, I did not trust Tobias’s welfare in that human’s hand, but there was little I could do remedy it.

I kept an eye on all of the children’s families, not that the children knew.  If their families were to become Controllers, past Tom, it would be too risky.  It was enough with Tom.  Part of me wanted to simply kidnap that Controller and starve the Yeerk out, but I had to be reasonable.  Tom was a source of information.  A risky one, yes, but for now he was worth it.  And if I did take him, I knew I couldn’t tell the others until it was over, despite the panic that would ensue.  Jake and Rachel were loose cannons, Rachel by far more so, but if Jake found out about his brother, he would react.  The problem was he had to be natural, otherwise he could be suspected.   It was a cruel thing for me to contemplate doing such a thing to him, especially as a brother myself, but I truly felt that it would be in his best interest. 

As to the other members of their families, I did not worry too much for Cassie’s parents.  They were both in the wrong fields.  Rachel’s mother was a concern, and I monitored her closely.  She was a high-class lawyer, and she had ambition.  It was a dangerous combination.  Rachel’s father, I feared, was beyond my assistance, but I checked on him regularly.  Marco’s father was another I worried for.  He was in the (laughable, not that I should, because I had been in the same field those years ago,) computer industry, always in advancing branches.  I wasn’t upset that I had given him assistance, not that anyone knew, because Marco needed the stability, needed his father back.  Nis new step-mother worked in close quarters with Chapman, which put her at risk in seeing or hearing something she shouldn’t.  And finally, perhaps I worried the most for Jake’s parents.  In their tasks to be proper parents, they may impede Tom’s Yeerk, may be taken just to lessen the trouble they caused.

As to Tobias’s uncle, I did not watch him so much to see if he would become a Controller, but because I was worried about Tobias.  The man was an alcoholic.  As of now, he was not violent, but it was a worry.  And he was not a decent guardian.  What if someone should report Tobias’s situation to Social Services?  Tobias may be taken to a foster home, and who knew how that would be?  Controllers or over-bearing, if caring, adults?  I could make the attempt to get him under my care, but how difficult would that be?  And if any Controller should notice that Tobias was Loren’s son, that would certainly attract Visser Three’s attention.

I stared the red liquid in my glass, picking out of the chucks of speared fruit to chew on them.  Aximili was looking over the dessert menu again, planning to order again.  Hopefully I would beat him this time.  Matilda was finishing her flute of white wine, talking with Tobias.  The charm bracelet Tobias had gotten her reflected the light, and Matilda toyed with a pendant on a silver chain.  And then I almost choked when I saw it.  “Where did you get that?” I asked without thinking.

They all looked at me, surprised.  “Get what?” Matilda asked.  “This bracelet?  Tobias gave it to me today, remember?”

“I think my brother means your necklace.  Correct, Brother?”

I wished I hadn’t said anything.  However, you cannot turn back time.  “Yes, of course.  I never saw it before.”

Matilda gave a lopsided smile.  “I never wore it before.  It was in my jewelry box, from before.  I can’t remember where I got it.  But it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

She hung the pendant from her fingers.  It was tear-dropped shaped and a brilliant blue.  A familiar blue. 

“Pretty color, isn’t it?  I love this shade of blue.”

“It looks like a shade of Anda – that is, the best blue hue in the world,” Aximili said, examining it closer. 

“Glad you’re not modest, Ax,” Tobias grinned, picking up on what my brother was going to say.  Matilda smiled as well.

Aximili ignored him.  “It is a strange stone.  Not natural.  It looks like it has a grain.”

“Costume jewelry, no doubt,” I said with a forced casualness.  “Be careful or you may break it.  Who knows how old it is?  The glue could fail.”  I stood up, desperate to get away.  “I’m going to go freshen up. You will go after I get back, Ax.”

“I don’t think I can get this back on,” he said, taking his attention away from the stone.  He meant the tie I made him wear.  Both Tobias and he were hopeless at getting one on.

“Just loosen it,” I said, amazed at his missing the simple answer.  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I thought I was going to get to order something else,” Aximili said as I went away.

“You’ll still have a few hours,” Matilda said consolingly.

I went to the bathroom, relieved that there wasn’t an attendant and that the stalls were larger than normal.  It’s very difficult being Andalite-sized in a human-sized world, sometimes.  I went into the stall and locked it, then took off my jacket to hang it on the hook.  My shoes were slipped off and I striped the pants, folding and setting them on back of the toilet.  Then, one last listen for humans entering, I started to demorph.  I moved back as I did so, trying to keep my hooves from sight if someone would happen to come in and folding my tail down.  Then I remorphed, resting my hands on the stall so I could hold myself up as my front legs shriveled.  Thankfully my upper arm strength came back soon, otherwise I would have collapsed straight onto the door and floor, not the first time it would have happened.

Once done, I stood and straightened my shirt and tie.  I sat on the toilet seat to get the pants on and straighten my socks before slipping the shoes on.  Finally, I took my jacket and left the stall, checking my appearance in the mirror.  My hair was wild and I tried to flatten it, brushing my fingers through the strands.  However, it would not return to what it looked like previously.  Hopefully no one would notice.  Satisfied, I slid my jacket back on, fixing the collar and front.  When my hand slid went over the hard box I had tucked in, I looked down. 

A quick glance around to see if someone was watching me, I reached inside the inner pocket and pulled out the small box.  The bow had been flattened a bit and I tried to fluff it up.  It was a hopeless task.  I shouldn’t have brought it, I thought.  I don’t know why I had.  When I had finished dressing at the house, was just about to walk through the door when I doubled-back and slid the box into my jacket.  I was nervous that one of the others would have seen it, but they didn’t and I was content to forget it and the foolish impulse.  Until now. 

I shouldn’t have even purchased it.

Again I looked over my shoulder, then opened the box and ran my finger over the smooth stone. The white star was brilliant. 

Why, I wondered.

It was because it had been familiar, maybe.  Like the necklace Matilda had worn, of all nights, tonight.  But it wasn’t what it reminded me of. 

_“It’s my_ something blue _,” she said, shyly showing me the pendant she had had made.  At my incomprehension, she explained.  “A wedding saying.  The bride has to have_ something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a penny in her shoe _, or so my mom says.”_

_I had touched the pendant, where my fur rested under glass and nodded.  This was all the proof I had of my old form, and I felt my throat close up.  Loren had touched my hand.  “Everyone loves this shade of blue.  I thought the bridesmaids could have their dresses this color, the men their ties.”  I had nodded mutely.  Of course they would love this Andalite blue color.  It was beautiful._

I smiled slightly, snapping the case shut and tucking it away before going back to the others.  Tucking away the memories.

Aximili had returned to studying the menu, which was a small relief to me.  Tobias had moved to my seat to assist in the endeavor, hopefully adding a bit of common sense.  I took the remaining seat, reaching to get the rest of my drink.  It would not be necessary to tell Aximili of the time.  He wasn’t a child and knew the limits he was under.

Still, if he did not go within ten minutes, I would say something.

“Your hair is all poofy,” Matilda laughed, and I jerked away when her hand petted the strands.

“Hey, no touching the hair,” I ordered, batting her hand away.

She ignored me.  “It looked like you stuck a fork in a light socket while standing in a puddle.”

“If he did that, he would be dead,” Aximili said.

“And it does not,” I snapped, running my hand through the hair so, just in case it did, I could perhaps flatten it.

“Actually, it does,” Tobias said.  “It always does afterwards, though usually not this bad.  Same with Ax, except he gets a cowlick.”

“What’s a cowlick?” Aximili asked.  “Is it like a cow tongue?  That was on the menu.  Is it tasty?”

“No!” Tobias said, making a face.  “Never order it.”

“I bet you never even had it,” Matilda said.

“Some things you don’t have to try.”

“How can you not try something?” Aximili asked, wide-eyed.  “Everything must be tasted at least once.”

“Not poison.”

“Maybe before you die,” Matilda joked. 

I chuckled. “Right before.  What are you getting?”

“I have not decided.  This is very important.”

We all smiled.  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

Aximili looked at me suspiciously.  “I had thought I did, but then you ordered me crab and lobster.”

“With dessert?” I clarified.

“Oh, of course.”

I smiled and raised my hand.  Our ever-efficient waiter was there within seconds.  “Four tiramisus in chocolate cups, please.”

Our waiter gave me a surprised look.

“That’s not on the menu,” my brother said.

“Four tiramisus, please,” I repeated and, before the waiter could speak, decided to add more information.  “The order is under Fangor.”

The look left our waiter’s face and he smiled when he inclined his head.  “Yes.  Very good, Sir.”

“What’s going on?” Matilda asked suspiciously.

“I ordered dessert.”

“Yes, duh,” Tobias said.

I gave him a slightly disapproving frown.  “I called before we left the house.  I wasn’t sure if they still served them, and if so, I wanted to make sure they would have enough time to prepare them.  O’Hare’s is one of the best places to get tiramisus and I wouldn’t even think of dining here without ordering one.”

“And how would you know this?” Matilda asked, and her tone was not a little suspicious.  “Did you and Wetmore dine here?”

My face was contorting before I could stop.  “No, never.  I have other sources.”  Indeed, this source was over eighteen years old.  Bea, that is, Beatrice Yerton swore by O’Hare’s tiramisus and more than once dragged several others and (not an unwilling) me here on trumped up excuses.  She had been a wife to a friend of mine, Tom Yerton, a human several years my senior.  Loren had had little affection for either of the two, but I accounted that to being little in their company.  True, Tom was almost Yeerkish in his tendencies, and Bea was very flighty, too flighty sometimes.  Indeed, they were complete opposites, and I honestly had disliked Tom upon the first few meetings.  He was arrogant and confident, and he knew it.  But he was principled and at least tolerable, and, quite frankly, he had been brilliant (for a human).  It was another fact he was well aware of.  Of course, his brilliance was not for computers.  There he only stood on his mockery, quiet awe, and understanding that this was the future.  But he understood others and could read situations, as could his wife, such as Cassie and Marco could.  He, to my and Loren’s consternations, knew something was amiss with me.  I wouldn’t hesitate to even suggest that he might have known, except that Tom Yerton was a practical, logical man and would never have thought to contemplate that the hopeless male he was studying (tormenting) was really an Andalite, a _nothlit_.

I had been greatly disheartened to learn that both Yertons had been killed in a car crash the equivalent of two years after my departure.  I would have taken great pleasure siphoning money from the Fortune 500 company Tom would have certainly controlled in response to the months of misery he, for his own twisted amusement, used to put me through.

“Yeah, and who would that be?” Matilda demanded.

“Get your own sources.”

“I’ve never heard of a tiramisu.  What is it?” Tobias asked, changing the topic with as much reason to change it as well as being honestly curious.

“Someone once told me she could tell you all the ingredients that made it up, but that it would not do the justice that was the small piece of heaven found in every bite of a tiramisu.  Of course, she’d wax poetic about them for hours.”  I smiled and rolled my eyes a bit.  “For the rest of the real world, it’s a dessert made of Lady Fingers, custard, coffee, rum, and a few other ingredients I cannot remember, and it is quite delicious.  It is not something I wish to eat frequently, but it is a nice treat.”

“Wow, something you don’t want to eat,” Tobias said.

“Frequently,” I reminded.  “But, then again, I have not had one in a very long time.  And you should freshen up before they arrive,” I said to Aximili.  Perhaps it was not ten minutes, like I promised myself, but I could be overly protective.

“But the desserts are coming.”

“Then you better get going.”

Aximili gave me look before heading off with Tobias, who would assist making sure my brother was presentable, at his heels.  I shook my head at Aximili’s haste and thought perhaps I should have promised neither of us would touch the treats until they returned.  Then I remembered about the possibility of my lack of control and deemed it best that I hadn’t.  I hated to not meet Aximili’s expectations.

I jumped when Matilda touched my arm.  “That was nice.”

“What was?” I asked, jerking my arm away.  Sometimes I hated being human.  Two eyes were not enough.  I wouldn’t have been startled if I had two more.

“Dessert.”  She paused.  “I’m glad you came along.”

“Because I spend far too much time alone, right?” I asked, closing my eyes and trying to shut out the world.

It was a moment before she replied.  “Yes, of course.  You don’t have to be off by yourself so much.  It isn’t healthy.”

I opened my eyes.  “I am fine.  I like being alone.”  It was the truth mixed with a lie.  I was an Andalite.  Herd-orientated by nature.  There were tales of Andalites isolated going mad within days, though they were probably just stories told to scare little ones.  I think, anyway.  (On one of my leaves, I believe I terrified Aximili with my rendition of such a tale, because Mother told me that from then on, it would give her ‹great pleasure› if I refrained from such stories in the future.  I wondered then if Aximili was not normally a child who stuck close to his parents.)  But I did like to be alone, where I could think clearer, where there were no distractions.

“Still … thank you for coming with.”

There was no verbal response I could think to give, so I merely bowed my head, an Andalite custom, though normally you would close your stalk eyes as well.  It was more a sign of respect than agreement or acknowledgement, but humans thought it meant as such.

There was silence between us, but only for a second.  “So who said that about tiramisus?”

“Bea.”

“And who’s that?”

“No one important.”  Blasted, there went the last of my sangria.  I wondered if I could order another without fear of a scolding, then felt both angry and foolish.  I was an Andalite Prince!  Why should I bow to the desires of the foolish humans?

I almost raised my hand, hoping to signal a nearby waiter or even our own, but then put it down with a sigh of defeat.  Some battles were not worth the effort.

“You know, you haven’t even wished me a happy birthday.”

“I sang along with the others.”

Matilda frowned playfully.  “You can’t honestly think that counts.  And I don’t even think you sang.  Just mumbled the words a bit.”

“I sang,” I countered, insulted.  Perhaps not loudly, but I had.  And if I had mumbled, well, it had been over eighteen years since I last sang it!  One cannot honestly expect me to remember the words to _Happy Birthday_.  I mean, one would think there’s be more to the song than singing _Happy Birthday to you_ four times.  Wouldn’t one?

“Sure you did,” she said, clearly not believing me.  Why is it here, on Earth, my credibility is next to nil?  Andalites would take me at my word.  “But you haven’t actually said it.  Or given me a gift.”

“Greedy humans,” I sighed, rolling my eyes as I leaned back in the chair.  “I’m paying for this, aren’t I?  Consider it my gift.”

Matilda, however, looked miffed.  “I was just joking about you not getting me anything.  I wasn’t being greedy.”

Sometimes I do not think I’m good at being obvious in a tease, but it was too late to backtrack, and I did not want to in any case.  “Of course not.”

“Do you really have such a low opinion of me?”

I waved a hand dismissively.  “I have no time for opinions.  I deal with what I know.”

“Then what do you know of me?” she demanded, eyes sharp.  Perhaps she was trying to find insult in my words.  Sometimes I felt like others did that with any careless comment I could make, but I did not like to think she wanted to take offense.  I did not want it to be in her nature.

I shrugged and poured myself some water, trying to act calm.  I knew many things, but that … it wasn’t what should be shared.  “Anything a Prince should know about his warriors.  Like I know enough not to send my brother into any exceptionally small space.  To watch Tobias when we travel in water.  To monitor Rachel closer than the others in a battle.  To step in when Jake feels overwhelmed by responsibility and secrecy.  To know when Cassie is afraid of losing her humanity.  To allow Marco the hope of saving his mother.”

“And me?”

I paused, taking a sip of the water.  What did I know (that would not leave me vulnerable)?  “There is always a light.  You are scared of the dark.”  She blinked.  “It is understandable.  Why do you think I do not turn off the bathroom light at night, or why I don’t question the numerous small lights around, far more than any human dwelling should need to protect against stubbed toes?”

She looked uncomfortable, looked away from me, and played with the pendant of her necklace.  “I didn’t think you’d noticed,” she finally said.

I made no response – did she think I would not notice because it was such a minor thing to notice, or because she thought _I_ would not notice, that it was beneath me? – and we sat in our uncomfortable silence until the desserts arrived, and then Tobias and Aximili.  The boys noticed our discomfort but did not, thankfully, question it, and the desserts were finished speedily, especially in Aximili’s and my cases.  I suppose I did like tiramisus more than I thought.  I took care of the bill with my credit card and we left for home.

 ****

Andalites are naturally light sleepers, easily startled awake by sounds and sights.  That is not to say that the slightest noise or change in light will wake us, but the difference in them will.  We can, for example, sleep quite happily when silence transcends into a full sympathy of crickets chirping, but an instantaneous silence will jolt us awake in a panic.  In general, this is truer for Andalites entering their adult years, and it meant that I woke easier than Aximili would.  Eventually he would start as well, and I pitied him, praying that his transition would be better than mine.  It took me a month before I could sleep properly, even when I was in my own quarters.  The passage of other warriors outside by door woke me constantly, and I have a feeling I was not good company during that transition.  But then, all I wanted was to be able to sleep soundly like I had as a child and did not care for the opinions of the especially uppity _aristh_ s I had to train.

Whatever growing pains humans had, they did not equate to Andalite ones.  At least the ones I experienced.

Even as a human, it had been a trait that carried over.  (Not to my present extent, of course, because I had only been an _aristh_ then and not fully grown, but I had been an easily-woken Andalite and was just the same as a human.  It must be something to do with being naturally Andalite for my previous years, setting my mind a certain way that could not be untrained, because I still had been able to wake easily, monitor time, thought-speak, and other traits Andalites take for granted even when I had been a human _nothlit_.)  Now I usually would wake because Champ had moved about, one of the humans used the bathroom or, may they be pleased they were not actually physically in my presence, the phone rang.  After being startled awake and forced to morph with a still pounding heart, panicking about Yeerk attacks, I was never pleasant to wrong numbers or drunks.

In any case, as I was saying, Andalites are light sleepers, myself more so.  Finding myself conscious, I struggled to figure out what had woken me.  There were no other sounds, none that stood out until I listened.  The back door was open.  I could just make out the chimes that I hung on the inside of the door by the back door.  (Any warning device was worth the time and effort, no matter how silly.  After all, I knew as well as any that electrical alarms could be easily disabled.) 

Wary as to why the door would have opened, I stepped outside my room slowly, eyestalks peeking before I allowed my whole body to come through.  Matilda’s door was shut and I chose not to check on her.  It did not seem right.  I continued to walk, stepping lightly, and at the guest room I looked to see Tobias sleeping, curled in the blankets.  After looking about and making sure there were no intruders hidden, I gently closed the door.  I did, though, pause and set the blanket a bit so it did cover the boy a bit more. It wouldn’t do to have him catch cold, after all, as the window was open.

For a moment, I contemplated morphing human, but then chose not too.  If there was danger, it was better to have four eyes and a tail at my disposal.  When I tackled the steps, I almost regretted that decision, but eventually I was to the (thankfully level) ground floor.  My ears could hear nothing, and neither did my eyes see anything out of the ordinary.  I looked around as I moved from cover, still keeping to the shadows, and moved to the back entrance.

Down the hall, I was forced to be in the open.  There were no rooms or things to hide in or behind.  I moved softly, bent low, tail poised and eyes focused ahead, behind, and above.  The chimes waved in the wind, giving off soft, pleasing pitches.  (That chime had taken a while to find.  Do you have any idea how hard to find a wind chime that sounds pleasant?)

My tail twitched as I moved closer to the door, bent lower in case I had to jump.  My muscles tensed as the shadows moved, the boards creaked.  Someone was there.

At the point when I could jump, I pushed the door open more so I could spring out, and when I did get jump, the startled yell that sounded jerked me to awareness even as my tail moved.

“Elfangor … I didn’t mean wake you,” Matilda said cautiously, softly, my blade at her throat.

I withdrew my tail quickly, ashamed and worried.  ‹I am sorry.  I wasn’t aware …›

She rubbed her throat, smiling slightly.  “It’s all right.  Champ just needed to go outside.”  I looked around, trying to find him.  “I think he went into the woods.  I can’t exactly see him.”

‹I hope he does not wake Aximili.  Are you all right?›

“I’m fine.”  Matilda smiled.  “See, not a cut.”

‹I am relieved.  Please, shut the door when you come back in.›

“Elfangor!” she called, grabbing my wrist.  Then she blushed.  “You don’t … that is, you can stay.  Unless you’re tired.”

I stared at her for a moment then nodded.  ‹Very well.›  Then I paused, waiting for a moment to see if she would comply without my prompting.  ‹Could you please let go of me?›

She seemed surprised that she was still (rather painfully) holding my wrist.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t … that is, I’m sorry.”  She took a deep breath.  “It’s a nice night, isn’t it?”

‹Yes.›  Again I paused.  ‹Please let go.›

Again she looked down and blushed, and finally my wrist was released as she ducked her hands behind her back, then crossed her arms.  “It is a nice night,” she repeated.

‹Yes.›  I studied her in the night’s light.  ‹You may return to bed.  I will wait for Champ.›

“No, no.  I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”

‹Are you ill?›

Matilda gave a small laugh and moved against the wall to sit on the railing.  “No.  Just can’t sleep.  Don’t you ever have the problem?”

‹Frequently.  But I do not sleep deeply in any case.›  I stared up at the sky, looking at the stars, looking for tell-tale signs of ship travels.  None that I could see.

“Where’s your home?”

There was no need for me to look.  ‹It is low in the sky, past the treeline.  Ask me in three more months.  It should be in a location that can be easily seen then.›

“I will.”  She looked at me, turning her head slightly.  “Can you tell me about your planet?  None of us really know anything about it.”

‹What is there to tell?›  However, at her look, I complied.  ‹It is a planet much larger than Earth, which makes it have a red sky, with temperatures moderate all around.  We have two suns and another some distance away from our planet, called _Jawnei_.  Some theorize our planet used to travel between them, far before Andalites were Andalites, understand, but _Jawnei’s_ path grew further away and we stuck to the _Sisters_ , _Ashwallow_ and _Renti_.  Others say _Jawnei_ merely got caught in the gravitation of the other two.  I honestly have not studied enough to have an opinion.›

“So that’s their names, _Renti_ and _Ashwallow_?” Matilda interrupted.

I staggered mentally, losing my train of thought.  ‹Yes, yes, of course.  _Renti_ is the bigger and brighter, _Ashwallow_ the lesser.  They go by many names, of course.  The _Bright Ones_ , the _Sisters_ , it depends on the regions and the stories.  It is the same with the moons.›

“What are they called?  Your moons?”

‹The _Pale Ones_?›  That is how my family always referred to them.  ‹There are the _Twins_ , _Ala_ and _G’Tret_ , who are very nearly the same size and same distance from our planet.  There is _Kista_ , the _Guardian_ ; and _Watri_ , the _Little One_.  Of course, those names are rather misleading, as _Kista_ is actually our smallest moon and _Watri_ , our biggest.  Andalites in those times did not know that, though, since _Kista_ is much closer to our world and _Watri_ , further.  In fact, the Venber were from _Watri_ and the Mardrut, _Kista_.  _Kista_ is a derivative of our word for water, _kistraneal_ , since the moon always looked like water, as it is, not surprisingly, covered by it.  It makes it a rather boring moon to visit.›  A fact teachers never really caught onto.  My parents hadn’t excused me from that trip.

Matilda chuckled.  “You said they were stories?  Is that like what Ax told you when you were sick?”

‹Possibly.  I cannot remember what he spoke of.  I told him a few of the shorter ones, mostly because I wasn’t up to tell a more complicated one.›

“What do you mean?”

‹Andalite tales are usually very interwoven and complicated, at least compared to Human fairy tales.  While in your stories, Little Red Riding Hood is to visit her grandmother, meets the wolf, and eventually is saved by the woodsman, Andalites would expand to speak of the relationships in the other characters.  The mark of a true literature work is the cycle, the interconnection.  The wolf would have had to have had to have an ancestor that met the grandmother, a relation that is perhaps on the wall on the woodsman, something like that.  If you cannot keep them straight, it makes a very confusing story.›

“Oh.  Could you tell me one?”

I laughed, mostly at her naivety.  ‹It would take many nights, as they are so long.  The ones I told Aximili were not finished; I merely could not recall what happened next.  He didn’t realize, of course.  Besides, they are Andalite stories.  Humans would not find them very interesting.›

“We might,” she argued.

I was silent for a moment because, yes, Loren had said she liked them, when she had finally worn me down into telling her one. She had been certain Andalites had fairy tales and badgered me for weeks.  It had been become our ritual, lying in bed before sleep, in the dark, and telling the stories from my childhood.  She had loved the story of moons and suns.  I had never told her it was my favorite as well.

_“One day, you’ll tell these stories to our children,” she said contently, lying sleepily in my arms._

_I smiled and kissed her hair.  She always said that.  It was as much a part of our ritual as me telling the next part.  “Yes.  As my parents told me.”_

_“And then they will tell theirs and they’ll tell theirs and …” She yawned.  “And eventually someone will write a book.  At it’ll be a best seller.”_

_I closed my eyes, ready for sleep.  “Of course.”_

_“And when the Andalites come, they’re going to die of shock seeing their stories in a book.  Then they’ll burst with pride seeing that it’s a best seller.”_

_My lips quirked, even as tears swelled under my eyelids.  “So long as they don’t find out it was me.”  It was as much of a joke as a prayer._

_Her lips kissed my neck.  “It’ll be our secret._ Shan ventru _, Elfangor.”_

_I liked the way the Andalite words rolled off her tongue and was happy that I had allowed myself to bend and teach my wife the few phrases she knew.  “_ Shena ventru-ah _, my Loren.”_

I shook myself out of the memory.  ‹Perhaps I will write a book.  Then you may read at your convenience.›

“Would you dedicate it to me?” she asked cheekily.

‹It would be to my family.›  Perhaps my answer was evasive.

“Would the Andalite High Command even allow you to write them?” she asked after a moment.

I waved my eye stalks.  ‹I have done enough to disgrace myself.  What is one more thing?› I said wearily.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

I looked down at her.  ‹What?›

“That you’re disgraced.  You act like it doesn’t, but it does.”

‹I wanted ever since I was a child to be a hero to my people.›

“You’re doing the right thing.”

‹Writing a book?›

She snorted.  “Very funny.  You’re trying to save Earth, save us.”

‹You would think it the right thing, as it is your planet I am attempting to save.  It does not necessarily make it the right thing.  Whatever that would be.›

“What will happen to you, when the Fleet gets here?”

I waved my eyestalks again.  ‹Who knows anymore?  There could be standing orders to throw me in the brig, to kill me on sight, though I doubt that one.  I am still more useful alive than dead, still a Beast to the Yeerks.  The mostly likely is I will be expected to relinquish my leadership, follow the Captain’s orders, fight the battles, and return home to face my punishment.  Stripped of rank, highly probable.  Prison, depends on who is on the High Command.  It does not matter.›

“It does to you,” Matilda countered, sounding angry.  “And to the rest of us, Ax especially. You’ve done so much.”

‹I have still broken the law.  I should not be let off merely because I got lucky, because I am a great warrior.›

“It should when the law is stupid.”

‹This from a creature whose own entertainment has ideas about a Prime Directive?›

“They knew when to not obey it.”

‹The script did.›

Matilda shook her head.  “Whatever.  The point is, you don’t want to be known as a disgrace.”

I was getting impatient with this conversation.  ‹Of course not,› I said sharply.  ‹No one wants to be a disgrace!  Do you know how it has probably affected my parents, how it will affect Aximili, his family should he chose to start one?  My parents may have been forced into seclusion because of me.  No other Andalite may wish to speak, to deal with them, believing my faults are because of how they raised me.  Aximili will forever be looked upon with skepticism, wondering if he shall fall like me.  His mate would be thought of as foolish or incompetent for aligning with such a family, risking such genetics upon her children.  If I should ever wish to start of family, my mate, whomever should have me, and offspring would be forever mocked and tainted.  So it does not matter if the High Command does not give me formal punishment, because the people certainly will.›

In the little light, I could not make out her expression.  “Aximili doesn’t think you’re a disgrace.  And neither do we.”

I huffed.  ‹He is my brother and you are humans.  And it does not matter.  I would do everything all again if I had to.  What is my honor to the sake of the galaxy?› I asked bitterly, looking up into the sky.

She finally was quiet.  In the distance I could hear Champ’s tags jingling.  “Elfangor?”

I closed my eyes and sighed.  ‹Yes.›

“Tell me something else about me, something I don’t remember.  You said we were … that we knew each other then.”

For a moment I stood and pondered.  ‹You used to play softball.  You pitched for Frank’s Pro Shop Twins and were all-city two years in a row.  Whatever that means.›

“It means we beat everyone else.  Anything else?”

‹Your father fought in the Vietnam war.›  I would not say that her father abandoned her mother and her, that he couldn’t cope.

“And my mom?”

I unconsciously winced.  She had terrified me, like a mother-in-law should.  ‹She liked to talk.›  Loudly.  About me.  I hated the attention she drew.

“Any more of my family?”

I hadn’t been very familiar with her family.  ‹Your grandmother … couldn’t knit.›  One time she hadn’t knitted me a sweater.  Loren had laughed for a very long time, having had to leave the room where her grandmother anxiously awaited my approval.  To date, it was probably the biggest lie that ever came from me.

Matilda snorted.  “She couldn’t knit?”

‹You asked what I knew.  I did not know much about your family.  What I’ve said now just about depletes my reserves.›  At least the reserves I cared to share.

She smiled, I think.  “What was the first thing I said to you?”

‹I believe it was, “Freeze, horse-boy.”  However, my communicator chip wasn’t able to comprehend English at that time, so I cannot be sure.›

“‘Freeze, horse-boy’?” she repeated, trying to not laugh.

I smiled as well.  ‹There is Champ.›

The dog ran back to us, tongue lolling, and leaned to be petted by Matilda.  “Are we all done?” she cooed. “Yes, you are a good boy.  Yes, you are.”

‹I will see you in the morning.  Rest well.›

“Good night, Elfangor.  And … thanks for telling me.”

I inclined my head and escaped back into the house. But before the door shut, I called out, ‹May you live for another journey.›  The Andalite verison of a, “Happy birthday.”

 ****


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beach, a Hole, and Hair Dye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 37

I would never truly understand humans, I supposed.  After being held captive by mutated underwater beings, why in the world would they wish to spend time on a beach?  Aximili did not appear to question their desire, so perhaps it was just me.  

I, personally, would prefer merely going for a long run or, if I had to bring humans along, drive.  A drive in my Mustang with the top down on a warm, sunny day was very appealing to my mind.  Of course, I would have had to avoid police officers, because it would not have been my interest to drive the petty speed limit.  The three speeding tickets I had on my record were not precisely in my favor, especially since I hadn’t gotten around to erasing the computer copy.  And that may not do me very much good.  Some places still relied on paper files, which were beyond my ability to erase from a safe distance.  It wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught to remove their presence.

If I had spoken, expressed my desire to not be near water so soon after this last mission, perhaps the others would have chosen some other venue.  Perhaps they may have even freed me from this burden of joining them.  Well, actually that would probably have been unlikely.  Humans are stubborn creatures, with little respect for others.  I say this fondly, not with much malice, but it is very true.  It is more from ignorance than their nature, I believe.  It is hard to be aware of another species’ wishes when one isn’t used to considering them.  Of course, Andalite are probably just as bad.  Even I can admit (grudgingly) that Andalites, as a whole, tend more towards worrying about ourselves. (After all, a herd must watch out for itself.) Yet, how could we not?  The rest of the universe will not, especially since they expect us to deal with the Yeerk invasion. 

So I did not speak my distaste at spending a day at the beach.  I merely quietly went about following the orders Aximili and Matilda fostered upon me.  Was there enough food?  No, of course not.  Were the blankets packed, the sunscreen, the beach materials, the towels?  Yes, yes, yes, and yes.  Did I know where – … Your kite is in the hall closet, hanging on the door, Aximili; be careful when you open it.  Those shoes were in the bag in the downstairs bathroom, in the cabinet on the third shelf, where they had been since the last time we went to the beach. 

Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I am the only one who can keep a level head and not run about, as the humans say, like a chicken with its head chopped off.  It wasn’t like we were going to the homeworld.  We were going to the beach, not even twenty minutes away.  It was not worth the fuss these two were making.

Tobias, at least, agreed with me.  “You’d think we were going to Hawaii,” he grinned, trying, unsuccessfully, to push another chair in the trunk of my Mustang.  “Do we even need this many chairs?”

“No, we do not.  But I do not argue with females.  Here, move the towels aside.  There, that will do.  Provided nothing else needs to be packed.  My car will explode then.”

He laughed.  “Maybe you should have chosen to take the van.”

“It is too nice of a day to not take this vehicle.”

“You just want to drive it.”

I smiled as I shut the trunk lid.  “Incorrect.  I merely want to drive anything that can go faster than I can run.  This vehicle merely has an advantage of allowing myself to not be surrounded by metal while I am at such speeds.  It is too nice of a day.”

“I won’t argue.”

“Good.  Because I am right.”

Tobias laughed.  “Sometimes I can see where Ax gets it.”

“Where do I get what?” Aximili asked, holding the basket of food possessively, as if someone or, worse, one of us was simply going to run past to try to steal it.  I still did not think it was a wise idea to let him hold it, but it was another thing I didn’t wish to argue with Matilda about.

“Your dashing blue highlights.  Are we finally ready to leave now?”  I did not, did not, did not whine or sound petulant.  At all.  I didn’t see Tobias’s smile.

Aximili shrugged.  “Loren is almost ready.  And there is no hurry.  We have at least thirty Earth minutes before everyone is to be at the beach.”

“What exactly is the difference between an Earth minute and every other minute?” Tobias asked, hopping up to sit on the trunk.  “I always want to ask, but Marco butts in.”

“You must tell the time units you are using, Tobias,” Aximili said pompously.  “So others may know.”

“We, as you know, are naturally able to monitor time.  When we travel, we are just as apt to use other units, especially over another planet’s orbit.  It saves confusion to say the units, otherwise another officer might think we were using Leeran and another, Hork-Bajir,” I explained.  “Indeed, on the ship, many officers habitually use the time units they have spent the majority of their career in.”

“Why don’t you just use Andalite time units?”

“Because it is no trial for us to convert between them.”

“If Andalites were as poor at conversions as humans,” Aximili grinned, “maybe we would have to use only one time unit.  However Andalites are far superior in mathematics.”

Tobias laughed.  “I won’t argue there.  I don’t even look at my math anymore.”

Aximili frowned, as did I (though not nearly as much).  “How can you expect to learn if you do not attempt?” he asked.

I went to a much deeper matter.  “If you do not do your homework, you will get in trouble.  And your grades will suffer.”

There was a look of amused horror on Tobias’s face.  “Oh, God, it’s the homework police!”

“I do not understand,” Aximili said while I crossed my arms.

Tobias gave a lopsided grin.  “It’s just someone who badgers you into doing homework, Ax.  And I don’t expect to learn math.  My grades have never been very good, anyway.”  He shrugged.  “Never actually been good at school.  And moving back and forth across country, switching schools every few years didn’t help, I guess.  And now, us saving the world.  Why bother?”

“Because you should,” I said firmly, squashing a bit of nagging guilt.

“You do not seem incapable of learning,” Aximili said.  “You understand very quickly when Elfangor and I explain something, especially compared to the others.”

“Ax-man, you’re making me blush.”

“You are not blushing.”

“It is a mark of laziness if you will not do your lessons,” I said.  For a moment, I fancied I sounded like my father.

Again Tobias shrugged, though he did avoid my gaze.

“Perhaps I could assist you,” Aximili volunteered kindly.

I couldn’t decide if that would hinder or actually assist Tobias.  “Yes, that would do.  If Tobias actually needs a homework police, he shall have one.”

Aximili inclined his head.  “I would be honored.”

Tobias, however, looked less than pleased.  “Great.  Thanks a lot, Dad.”

“Do not call me that,” I said sharply, far sharper than I meant or wished.  It just came out before I could think to stop it.  Both of them looked at me with surprise and I quickly thought.  “I am sorry, it is just … I would not wish to disrespect your father.” Which was, ironically, me. 

“Oh.”  Tobias looked uncomfortable.  Aximili was looking at me.  “Wonder what’s keeping Mom.”

Yes.  What was keeping her?  The atmosphere, once so very pleasant, was growing tense.  However, she did soon come through the door, a loaded bag on her shoulder and a towel over her arm.

“Ready to go?” she called, flip-flops flopping on the steps.

“We have been waiting for you,” I said, stepping away from the others and opening the door so she could get inside.

“Not too long, I hope.”

“No longer than waiting for any other female,” I said as I shut the door.  “Aximili, Tobias, prepare to leave.”

They obeyed with quick activity and soon we were on the road.  I had placed on a set of sunglasses and relaxed, going only slightly faster than what was regulation on this stretch of road.  The radio was on and top down.

This was what time was made to be spent on.  The speed, the wind in my hair and on my face, the sun warming my exposed skin, the music in my ears (human and not very good, but it did have a beat). 

Would have been better without the others.  Maybe.  Maybe if things had been different.

“Elfangor?” my brother called, leaning forward.

“Yes?”  I looked at him in the mirror, though the dark shades would keep this information from him.

“When may I learn to operate this vehicle?”

The word, _Never_ , was on my lips and almost out before I had thought to stop it.  I’m getting too possessive about some things.  However, I kept my tongue, if only because Matilda spoke.

She had laughed as well.  “If you teach Ax, Marco and Jake will never shut up.” 

“Maybe, but I am learned in flying both Andalite and Yeerk spacecraft,” Aximili said.  “They are not.”

“So that makes it all right for you to learn how to drive a car?” Tobias asked.  “You can’t learn, legally, until you are sixteen.”

“Human or Andalite?” Aximili countered sharply, as if stung at the mention of age.  “If human, I will acquire a human the appropriate age.”

“Ax,” Matilda scolded, though she sounded just as much amused.

“It is a foolish restriction.”

“Only because you’d have to obey it,” Tobias grinned.

Aximili ignored this, forcing his attention back onto me.  “When, Elfangor?  I can.  You’ve seen my flight simulations.”

Ah, yes, I remembered those.  If Aximili hadn’t been so well brought up, they would have been shoved in my face _through_ the monitor.  And yes, they were promising … but did I wish to risk my Mustang on those scores?

Aximili was still staring at me in the mirror.  Somehow, perhaps a natural talent, he had developed a pitiful look, even as a human.  I groaned.  I didn’t want to.  There is a reason the flights were simulations.

“Very well,” I sighed.  However, I had to add, “We will use the van, however.”

A grin broke across Aximili’s face as he sat back, and there was an aura of smugness around him.

“Can I learn, too?” Tobias asked, seeing this wasn’t an opportunity to be wasted.

“Now you’ve done it,” Matilda grinned.

“Shouldn’t you be telling him he can’t?” I asked.  “As a responsible parent?”

“I look at it this way: if you do it, I won’t have to.  He’s almost sixteen anyway.  And you’ve trained plenty.”

“In tail fighting, not in flight.  They won’t let me.”  However, I decided to reside myself to the inevitable.  “Very well, Tobias.  However, if this somehow gets wind to any of the others, through loose thoughts or lips to their accidental spying, it’s off.  For both of you.”

“Agreed,” Aximili said quickly.

“So long as you agree that you won’t tell them either,” Tobias added.

I shot my gaze to him, surprised, mildly insulted, and mostly amused.  Then I chuckled.  “Very well.  I agree.”

“Elfangor wouldn’t have told,” Matilda said to Tobias, “but it was smart to make him promise anyway.”

“When may we start?” Aximili asked eagerly.

“I’ll get back to you.”

“That’s not a stall tactic, is it?” Tobias said.

“You are a very suspicious human.  Is not my word good enough?”

“Not when we coerced it out of you.”

“Hardly coerced.  However, provided nothing happened, perhaps next weekend.  On my honor.”  And probably, by the end of it, on my dead body.  Or at least my highly stressed nerves.

Both Tobias and Aximili looked satisfied.  Then Aximili pondered my words.  “Why can we not learn with this vehicle?”

“Automatic is easier.  This is stick shift, and I don’t want to have to replace the gears you two will grind away to nothing.”

“I would not,” Aximili said.

“Your brother is just being selfish,” Matilda interrupted, grinning while she patted my knee.  “He likes his Mustang, don’tcha?  He was practically crying when his first was totaled.”

“I did not cry,” I huffed.  And I hadn’t.  I may have been distressed, but I had not cried.   “Why do humans insist on exaggeration when the simple truth would suit perfectly well?”

“Please.  As if Andalites don’t exaggerate,” Matilda scoffed.

“I did not say we did not.  We are just not as prone to it as humans apparently are.”

“A lack of imagination, then.”

“Hardly!  Andalites are by far more imaginative than humans.  Your kind would have never thought to create the _Escafil_ device.”

“A one-hit wonder,” she countered.  “That merely shows you have imagination, but not very much.”

“And what have you done with your imagination?” I asked, hearing Aximili in the backseat ask Tobias what a “one-hit wonder” was.

She paused, clearly seeing the problem with this conversation.  It can only be called imagination if the other side had not also thought of it.  I (and therefore the Andalite culture) was automatically the winner because the humans severely lacked in knowledge about Andalite society.  Some might call that cheating, but I did not.  However, I grew wary when she grinned in a suspiciously familiar fashion.  “We have created cinnamon buns and chocolate.”

That was _not_ fair.  Humans had mouths, which led to taste.  Of course they would create something for eating!  I had to nick this in the tail quickly.  I was not going to be outdone because she could name an infinite number of desserts! “Humans have invented the art of culinary,” I corrected with a force.

“Very well,” she allowed.  “So we’re tied.”

I had to think now of something that could not be countered by something similarly human.  We had tail dances and fighting, but that could easily compare to human endeavors.  And I might have to demonstrate them, something I was not willing to subject myself to.  There were beautiful landscape designs, by far superior to human, which no doubt could be countered by the (ludicrous) idea that some human dwellings were worthy of note. 

Aximili, however, did not think of such issues and, obviously standing proud in his Andalite heritage, spoke.  “We have the _Hian Valley_.”

Matilda turned in her seat.  “And what’s that?”

“It is a valley cultivated over seven hundred years ago in _Vetra_ , the landscape mended in perfect conjunction with the sky.  Over sixteen hundred Andalites fashioned it then and some today are even allowed to add their own touches, a very high honor.  It is beautiful and nothing on Earth can compare to it.  Nothing.”  His tone was firm and challenging.

“Sounds cool.  Wish I could see it,” Tobias said.

“It is beautiful,” my brother continued.  “You would perhaps liken it to your barrier reefs, but they would only be a pale shadow to _Hian Valley_.  And, aside from being beautiful to behold, the grasses there are the sweetest.”

“Have you ever been there?” Matilda asked.

“No.  _Vetra_ is on the other side of our world, and permission for a pilgrimage to the valley is very difficult to obtain.  But I have seen the holographs and videos, and a friend said he went there when he was a child.”  There was wistful jealousy in his voice, and I had to agree with his sentiment.  A trip to _Hian Valley_ was not something to waste on a friend.  In fact, if only Aximili or I could go, I can honestly and without remorse say my brother would have seen the back of my tail.  I know Aximili would feel the same way.

“Well, we have places like the Louvre and the Sistine Chapel,” Tobias suggested, fulfilling my prediction that human dwellings would be given the idea of being points of imagination.  “And the Pyramids.”

“Which do not compare.  And we have the _Ervanit_.”

Briefly, as Aximili described what _Ervanit_ were (ancient cities from when Andalites tried such a lifestyles, and far different than human cities), I contemplated merely making up words.  The humans won’t know, except when Aximili opened his big mouth.  How about that as evidence for imagination?  Of course, that would be cheating.

Tobias and Matilda countered by saying humans had created television, particularly commercials, which Aximili favored.  Before Aximili could counter, I interrupted, “All right, let’s stop this before it becomes ridiculous.  Not that it wasn’t already.”

 “You started it,” Matilda countered.

“No, you did, saying Andalites didn’t have any imagination.”

“Which I said because you said humans exaggerate too much.”

“Which you do, so it is your fault.”

“Because humans exist?” she asked suspiciously.  “That’s my fault?”

“Mom’s a little young to be Eve,” Tobias said.

I rolled my eyes.  “See the utter ridiculousness of this?  Humans carry things to absurd proportions.”

“And Andalites don’t?  Have you seen yourself, Elfangor?”

I was tempted to ask when, to demand examples, but chose the wiser course and instead huffed, “What do you expect, if I am to pretend to be human?  Some undesirable traits are bound to have rubbed off.”

“Perhaps I should have said heard yourself,” Matilda said.  “They could make monuments to your arrogance.” 

“So long as they aren’t those modern things that humans pass off as art.” Tobias chuckled in the backseat and we started to evolve into blissful silence, with only the radio music breaking it.  We made it to the coast and I drove alongside the sandy beaches until I found a secluded and shaded spot not very far from the water.  It was a bit of a distance from the main way, but we Andalites need our privacy, what with the demorphing and all.

We were the first there of our group, not that I was surprised.  From what I understood, remembered, and paid attention to of the children’s plans, Marco was to meet Jake and they would ride their bikes here.  Rachel would also bike.  Cassie’s father was to drop her off. 

There was token grumbling from Tobias as we started to unload everything, and I personally agreed with some of his points.  Not that I voiced my agreements, and soon I released both Aximili and Tobias to have fun on the beach while Matilda and I finished.

I wished I could have someone relieve me so I could go stand by the ocean.  One of the fringe benefits of being young, I suppose, having someone tell you to go play.  Being older meant being responsible, being the one to do the work so others could play.

It didn’t seem especially fair, if that was the purpose of growing up.

It still was a beautiful day, only light and thin clouds in the sky.  The ocean itself was calm, and the sun was high and warm.  It truly was a beautiful day.

Matilda agreed.  “It’s a wonderful day.  I’m glad you caved.”

“I hardly caved.”

“Fine.  I’m glad you were amendable to persuasion.”

“That is the same thing as caving.”

She grinned in a manner reminiscent of Tobias, or would that be the other way around?  “Doesn’t it sound better, though?”

I rolled my eyes and trudged with the chairs under each arm. We just finished setting down the blanket – a quaint human custom, but I learned it is best to just go along with some things – and putting up the small table and chairs when Cassie arrived.  She gave her father a quick hug before jumping out and rushing to us with her bag, and I gave her father a slight wave.  He waved back and thus the subtle exchange of responsibility was done.  Children never see it.

Cassie greeted us, setting her bag down at the edge of the blanket.  “Hey, anyone else here?”

“You’re the first to arrive,” Matilda said.  “There’s pop in the cooler.”

“I brought some chips and cookies.  I know you said I didn’t have to, but it can’t hurt with this group, can it?” she grinned.

“Was that a jab at Andalites?” I asked with mock seriousness.

“Oh, no.  Just guys in general,” she laughed.  “Do you need any help?”

Cassie was so responsible.  Where was she five minutes ago when the help was needed?  I waved my hand as I sat in a chair and leaned back to enjoy the sun.  “We are done.  You may do what you wish.”

“Do you need sun lotion?” Matilda asked, digging in her bag for the vile stuff.

“I brought some.  My mom nagged me about it.  Do you need some, Elfangor?”

I rolled my eyes, even though they were closed and hidden by my sunglasses.  “No.  I have to demorph in forty minutes.  I think I will risk the skin cancer that shall be nullified when was return to this form.”

“You’re being an ass,” Matilda said as she slid off her over-shirt.  (Actually, it was one of mine.)  She fixed her top’s strap before snapping open the bottle.  “You’re always an ass when someone asks if you need sun lotion.”

“Because I don’t.”  My nose twitched with disgust at the coconut and sunscreen smell that it picked up.  I think I honestly dislike the scent.

“I suppose you’re right, anyway,” Cassie said diplomatically.  “It’s not like we need to get rabies shots when we’re in a dog morph.”

I found her comparison a bit extreme but nodded and smiled.  “Precisely.”

Cassie and Matilda chatted a bit longer.  I didn’t pay attention, meditating on the ocean waves.  Aximili and Tobias were by the shore, I suppose looking at the bits of sea life that had washed ashore.

Everything seemed fine until Cassie said, “Who’s that?”

I turned in my chair and looked towards the road, drawing down my sunglasses.  Someone was parking next to my car.  What, no!  This was supposed to be a private gathering.  I did not want other humans here.

I was momentarily relieved when I saw Jake and Marco alighted from vehicle, thinking perhaps, like Cassie, one of their parents felt the need to make sure they arrived safely.  However, it faded when I took in their faces.  They were displeased, and I saw why when Tom removed himself from the driver’s side. 

I did not wish to spend my day with a Yeerk!

“Oh, no,” Matilda mumbled.

“Maybe he’s just dropping them off,” Cassie said, but she clearly didn’t believe it.

I attempted to hide my disapproval and left my seat to make my way over to them.  Some things you had to meet head on.  It makes it easier to charge at them, I suppose, but it also gives you a chance to see if they really are a threat.

“Mr. Fangor, how do you do?” Tom greeted.  There was still a noticeable limp from his “accident,” but otherwise he seemed whole and healthy.

“Well enough, Tom.  Why are you here?”  No point to dance around the question.  “If Jake and Marco had needed a ride, I would have been happy to pick them up.”

Tom smiled.  “Actually, today I wanted to spend time with my brother.  Of course, then he goes and tells me that he’s got plans.”

“Little brothers.  How dare they get a life when you’re not paying attention?”  I forced my smile.  “So you just decided to crash our little party?”

“If that’s not a problem.  What’s the occasion?”

“No reason in particular, or many in general, whichever is truer.  I wanted to spend time with my brother, and he deemed my company not enough and invited the others.”  I blamed a lot on Aximili, I mused.

“Little brothers.”

“Yes.”  I looked at him.  I couldn’t just tell him to leave, that he wasn’t wanted here, because he was Jake’s brother.  Familial relationships give permission when they shouldn’t.  “So you plan on being vastly impolite and imposing yourself on my brother’s gathering, because you feel guilty that you are not spending enough time with your brother and making it so that I must listen to my brother complain?”  Perhaps the Yeerk would get my not-so-subtle hint.  And if that, then obey it.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”  The grin was smug.  Yeerkish.

“And if it would?”  No, I didn’t really say that, because I was interrupted by another car pulling alongside Tom’s.  I could see Rachel in the front seat, but before that I saw two young human females escape the backseat with all manner of beach materials.  My mind soon supplied them as being Rachel’s sisters, and there, that must be Rachel’s mother exiting.  Would she be also foisting herself upon this gathering?

“Mr. Fangor, is that you?” Rachel’s mother called, moving towards me.

Could I deny it?  Could I somehow flee?

“Hello, Aunt Naomi,” Tom replied as she came closer.

I tried to smile, be polite, as she greeted her nephew.  “Hello, Ms. ----.”  I knew she had returned to her maiden name after the divorce.  “What brings you here today?”

Rachel’s mother spoke fast, efficient.  I listened, growing dismal.  Rachel had been to go to the beach; her sisters wished to go.  Rachel said they couldn’t.  They complained.  Mom sided with majority if only to get them to shut up.   Obviously, that wasn’t how her mother explained it, but a Prince learns to get the shorthand version. 

“You wish me to watch them?”  There could be no mistaking the cold politeness in my voice.

“If it won’t be a bother.”

There was so much to say, but it was all inevitable.  I closed my eyes in defeat.  “Very well.”

“I’ll drive them home, Aunt Naomi,” Tom volunteered, thus cementing his presence as well.

“You’re such a good boy, Tom.  So unlike –”  She stopped herself and went to her youngest children.  Tom left me with a smirk.

It was no long after that both Jake and Rachel appeared, claiming it wasn’t their fault.

“Marco just arrived –”

“They started whining and crying –”

“Enough!” I said, not loud, but very very tired.  “It is done and we cannot undo it.  We just have to be … vigilant.”  I sighed and pressed the bridge of my nose.  “So much for a worry-free day at the beach for us aliens.  Speak no more of this.”

I turned and walked back to my chair.  Rachel’s young siblings were finishing their good-byes to their mother.  Marco was briefing Aximili, Tobias, and Matilda about our new arrivals.  Cassie was distracting Tom.

Rachel’s sisters were loud and happy, unconcerned.  They might have been the only ones to be in such a state.

I collapsed back into my chair and closed my eyes, refraining from rubbing my temples to relieve the headache that was forming.  Now Aximili and I had to be even more careful in demorphing.  There were no decent hiding areas.  The only thing I could think to do would be swim to deep water and demorph there.  And if the Yeerk followed us, to morph to a shark and eat him.

I almost smiled at the idea.

“Alan,” Matilda called.  “Would you like something to eat?”

“That is a foolish question,” I replied.

“I know.  Here’s a plate.”

I felt the edge digging into my arm, and opening my eyes, I saw Matilda holding a very full plate and smiling slightly.  I smiled back and thanked her, before I started to eat.  A thought came to me, and I looked at the Controller.

“You are not to eat.  You weren’t invited.”

Tom stared at me, possibly wondering if I was serious.  I was. Aside from not wishing to again feed a Yeerk, we didn’t have food for additional mouths. But he shrugged.  “Sure, I understand.  But I don’t think my cousins will.”

“Alan isn’t going to withhold food from them,” Matilda interjected, looking at me meaningfully.  I huffed.  I had no intention of denying the youngest food.  They weren’t Controllers, after all, and it was their mother’s fault for their presence.

I looked to the water, where the children were frolicking.  “Do they know how to swim?  I have no interest in playing life guard.”

“Yeah, Aunt Naomi signed them for lessons years ago.  Besides, let Rachel watch them.  They’re her sisters.”

“They’re your cousins.”

Tom merely grinned.

Matilda asked, “Have you been applying to any colleges?  Jake said you were a senior this year.”

The Controller started talking about Tom’s supposed plans for his life, but I tuned him out, watching the children.  They were not out in deep water, and everyone was accounted for.  Aximili was standing on the shore, probably having little desire to swim.  Andalites, while we can swim well, rarely do so.  Our culture never emphasized such a thing as a pastime for enjoyment.

“Mr. Fangor,” Tom called to me, grabbing my attention, “if you don’t mind asking, but what do you do?”

I frowned.  “Why are you interested?”  Why are the Yeerks interested, again?

“Just curious.  I’m trying to figure out what to major in, you see.”

“I write.”

Matilda coughed on her food and Tom gave me a suspicious look.

“I answer and you don’t believe?  Fine.  I’m currently I’m on leave from my employment at _Forlay_ , to raise my brother.  Previously, I globe trotted to fix high-tech computers and software glitches at the drop of a hat, which sounds more glamorous than it actually was.  They might contact me to do work locally, but otherwise I am on a very long vacation.  Once Alexander is in college, I will go back to work, only breaking when he goes on break as well.”

“And you got enough money to just sit around and do nothing?” Tom asked intently.

I mended my lie.  “I still do paperwork for them.  I review proposals and schematics.  I am working, it is just that, to me, it is very light.  Why are you so interested?” I asked again.

“So you know a lot about computers?” he asked, ignoring my question.

“Enough to make sure it is actually plugged in before you try turning it on.”

Tom turned and looked at Matilda.  “And what do you do, Ms. Rusch?”

I spoke quickly. “She’s a live-in leech.”

Matilda made a face.  “My father died.  Since I was having a rough time, Alan offered to let me stay with him and act as a maid, but without the sexy little uniform.”  She smirked at me, and I think my cheeks warmed, though I was pleased she at least remembered her cover story. 

“See, a leech, as I said.”

 ****

“Mr. Fangor, Mr. Fangor,” Rachel’s youngest sister called, rushing up to me as I left the water, having renewed my time limit. 

I brushed my hair back and smiled.  “Yes, Sara?”

“Can you be on my team?”

“Your team?”

“We’re going to make a sand castle!  Jordan said she could make them better than me.”

“Then shouldn’t you make it by yourself?”

Sara gave me one of those childish faces that young humans give when they think the world is not being fair to them.  “Please, please, please be on my team,” she begged, hanging onto my hand.

I looked up to see if there would be any help, but there was none.  The humans and my brother all seemed more interested and amused at my dilemma than inclined to help and I frowned at them.  Turning my attention back to Sara, she was giving me the “puppy face,” though it looked very little like a canine.  I sighed.  Andalite children, to my knowledge, did not act like this.  I was sure I never had, at least.  “Very well.  I will assist you.  But, I warn you, my castle-making skills are not very good.”

Sara squealed happily and dragged me back to the group.  The children avoided my glare, withholding their snickers. Neither Matilda nor the Controller were so considerate.  At last Aximili was unconcerned with my actions.  To him, there was nothing funny or strange.  Andalites, in general, are more apt to amuse little ones than humans apparently are.

Jordan at least saw the unfairness.  “You can’t have Mr. Fangor help you!  That’s not fair.”

“I can too!”

“No you can’t!  You can’t help her,” Jordan said to me as I wiped my face with a towel.

“Jordan, just shut up,” Rachel scolded.

“It’s not fair!”

“Perhaps I could assist you,” Aximili offered.

“Why don’t you do brothers against sisters?” Matilda suggested.  “I don’t think those two have ever made a sand castle in their lives.  You two would cream them.”

Aximili sniffed.  “It can’t be too difficult.  If I can build qua … quality radios,” he corrected quickly, when Marco elbowed him, “I should be able to build something of sand.”

“You’ve really never built a sand castle?” Jordan asked me suspiciously.

“Only as part of the demolition team,” I answered, only slightly lying.  I recalled one time being at the beach and allowing the children of friends to bury my legs and construct their creation.  It had been a long day and I ended up very sunburned.

“And you never did either?” she turned to Aximili, obviously weighing the options.

“I haven’t.  I never lived near a beach.”

“You _never_ built a sand castle?” Sara demanded.

I smiled kindly.  “I did tell you.”

“But you’re so old.”

The laughs weren’t held back this time, and I kept my face firm before it broke into a smile as well.  “Positively ancient.  Do you still wish my assistance?”

“You can build with Ax, we’ll work together,” Jordan stated.  “Sisters versus brothers.  We’ll kick their butts.”

“Rachel, you have to help,” Sara added. 

Rachel protested for a bit, but finally prevailed to join the competition, if only to get her sisters and Cassie to stop hounding her. 

“It’s times like these I’m glad to be an only child,” Marco smirked, then ducked when Rachel pelted a shell at him.

“I don’t know, having a little brother isn’t so bad,” Tom commented, punching Jake in the arm.

“Wish I could say the same for big brothers,” Jake countered good-naturedly, rubbing his arm.

I met Aximili eyes and we shared a smile as we sat in the sand.  Due to our age difference and my profession, we basically experienced both the worlds of siblinghood and being an only child.  I vastly prefer the former.

“We don’t have the necessary accessories to build a castle,” Aximili said, meaning the many pails and things the Berenson girls had.

“Here, you can use the Tupperware,” Matilda said, grinning, as she dug for the bag.  The containers had been rinsed after they had been emptied.  I thought the female looked far too amused for her own good.

“And you can use our pails too, Ax,” Rachel said and glared at her sisters if they were to make a protest.

Aximili watched the children for a moment before attempting to try.  The dry sand didn’t hold well, and he decided to imitate the others by getting a pail of water.  After looking at our distance from the ocean, I merely started to dig.  It wasn’t long before I hit the water table and dug out the wet sand.  I was already dropping a bit from a mold when Aximili returned.

“I should have thought of that,” he said.

I shrugged and dug out more wet sand, and Aximili and I started to work in quiet.  The Berenson team did not imitate our example.  There was much argument on where to put what and who was doing it wrong and someone causing what had been built to fall.

It was a simple exercise.  After a few trials and errors, we figured out how much packing the sand needed, how wet it was required to be, and, while Aximili started making a series of arches, I amused myself by carving windows or steps.  When I took too much or a side tumbled, or when Aximili caused an entire series to cave, we merely shrugged and went on. 

“They’re scary, aren’t they?” Matilda commented, and I looked up.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s the quiet,” she stage-whispered.  “So serious.”

“I hardly see the reason why we much break into bickering when something goes wrong,” I defended.

“And I think ours is better than theirs,” Aximili stated, leaning back on his knees. Tobias had moved to assist him, as Cassie had situated herself between Rachel’s younger sisters to act as a peacekeeper.

Rachel twisted her head and glared, probably seeing ours was better.  “This means war, Ax.  We might start sabotaging your work.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s the only way Rachel knows how to win,” Marco commented.  “That and beating – ah!”  He ducked away from the pail.  “Ha, told you I could get the pail, Jake.”

I looked around.  Our immediate area was becoming dotted with sand art, with all but Matilda and Tom taking part.  Obviously the Yeerk thought he was too good for such activities, and Matilda thought it more important to document our activities to film.

When she pointed the camera back on me, I made a face.  She snapped it and made a smug face back.

I really shouldn’t encourage her.

“You two may finish,” I said as I stood and brushed the sand off me, before stepping over our creation and grabbing a pop.  My skin was becoming irritated, as it was turning red and the sand was rough.  The children’s conversations were white noise, and I sat in my chair.  Matilda pointed the camera at me.

“If you take another picture of me, I will throw you into the ocean.”

“I can swim,” she said simply, but removed the camera from her eye.  I was glad, because then I wouldn’t have to carry out my promise.  It would have looked very foolish.

“I think we should get ready to leave, soon.  I’ve had enough of the beach.”

She nodded.  “Your and Ax’s sand … creation is nice.”

I smiled.  Our castle was more a series of walls with a few taller buildings.  “Neither of us has seen proper castles to base our work on.”  I looked at Tom.  “Why didn’t you take part with your brother?”

Tom shrugged.  “It’s a bit childish, isn’t it?  Building a sand castle?”  He smirked at me.

“When dealing with children, sometimes one must be a bit childish.  And I thought you wanted to spend time with Jake.  All I have seen you do today is sit there.  Hardly the brother-bonding you profess.”  I let my annoyance seep through.

Tom narrowed his eyes, then smiled.  “We’re within ten feet of each other.  I count that as bonding.”

“You should take him for ice cream,” Matilda suggested.

“Yeah, sure.”

I started gathering bits of our belongings that I could reach from my seat, before I stood up and picked them up.  “Finish up, you two.  We’ll be leaving within twenty minutes.”

“All right, Al.  We’re almost done, anyway.”

Slowly everything started to get into the vehicle.  Cassie called her parents to have them pick her up, and Marco complained about having to fit into the crowded car with Tom, Jake, Rachel, and her sisters.

Once the children finished their sand creations, there had been a bit of complaint as to who won the contest.  Marco claimed Jake and his was the best, while the girls argued theirs was better. 

“God, shut up, Marco.  You’re so pathetic you have to steal from my sisters,” Rachel mocked.

“I think they’re all great,” Matilda compromised.

“That means she likes ours,” Marco said to Jake, who rolled his eyes.

“Do we win anything?” Sara asked.

“Is not the honor of winning enough?” Aximili asked.

The two girls looked at him like he was crazy.

“Your eldest cousin may take you for ice cream,” I commented.

The Controller snapped his head up.  “What?  No –”  His protests were drowned out by the agreements.

I smirked maliciously as I indicated that we were leaving now, though Matilda made me give Jake a twenty.  We were quickly speeding down the road back home.

“Our creation was better, you know,” Aximili pointed out.

“We have ice cream at home, Aximili,” I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly what we wanted, but it didn’t go bad,” Matilda consoled.

“Speak for yourself.  Didn’t you hear him question us?”  I frowned.  “What now has attracted Yeerk attention to me?”

“What did he want to know?” Tobias asked.

“What I did, how I made my money?  Even what she does.”

“You called me a leech,” Matilda scolded.

“The truth can hurt,” I said solemnly, trying to think.  “The question is what is going on.”

“And why do they think you can help,” Tobias added.

Aximili countered.  “Perhaps they are merely trying to find answers about your fabricated history.  There may not be a plot, just an investigation.”

“Not that that makes it better,” Matilda said.

“The question is still why.  Things are getting more troubling.  Visser Three’s not considerable patience is fading quicker each day.  He’s becoming more and more reckless.” I switched to a faster gear.

“Dammit, slow down before you get a ticket.”  Had I looked over, I would have seen her clutching a door with white knuckles.

“There’s never any cops on this stretch,” I said off-handedly.

“When you get pulled over, I am so going to laugh in your face.”

I rolled my eyes, but slowed down to the speed limit. 

 *****

“If you even say, do you feel the need for speed,” I growled, slamming the refrigerator shut.  Today’s loss and surprise was something that _did not_ sit well with me.  To have Visser Three where we could have cornered him – and I do not doubt we could have subdued him – and then to face that _farce_ that dared to have a similar appearance to an Andalite.

Matilda raised her hands.  “No more _Top Gun_ for you, if you think I was going to say that.  And I’m just as upset at you.  I really thought … well, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“No.”  If I was sulking, I was not ready or able to stop just yet.  I had not realized how much I believed we could have removed Visser Three’s threat one way or another.  It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“The Inspector, a Garatron.  Do you know anything about them?  Other than they can move really fast?”

“There is _no_ relationship to Andalites!”

Matilda smiled.  “I didn’t think that, silly.  He wasn’t nearly so handsome.”

Despite myself, I smiled at her tease and opened my pop.  “I do not know know of them.  While Andalites visit other species, we have not done so since the Yeerk uprising.  We used to visit other species, if they were advanced enough, but Andalites enjoy visiting worlds that offer science as well, not just new friends.”

“Stick in the muds and geeks, the lot of you.”

“The Yeerks have more of an interest in locating new species instead of sciences.”  I rubbed my forehead.  “What can we even do to stop such a type of host?”

“Cassie said they got cheetahs at the Gardens.”

“Would those work?”

Matilda blinked, then shrugged.  “You’ll have to ask Cassie.  But I think cheetahs tire fast.”

“All I know is that they like Cheet-os.”

After a laugh, she admitted, “Cheetahs probably won’t help, will they?  Even if they are fast, that Garatron was fast.  Race car fast.”

“Or faster,” I muttered.

“The kids suggested making Visser Three make look bad for the Inspector, get him demoted.  A smear compaign.  Rachel’s all for it, of course.”

I chuckled.  “Rachel would, because it would very dangerous.  Fast, numerous attacks, best done in public areas.  Not my favorite method.”

“When is it?  I told them I’d tell you.”  She shrugged.  “To be honest, I don’t really want to try it that way.”

“Scared?”

“Of course.  But that’s not why.  We’d have to attack shops and restaurants and places like that.  Normally, it’s always just Controllers.  With this, there’ll be normal humans.”  Matilda sighed and shook her head.  “I don’t want someone getting hurt.”

I agreed with her, and from the other side.  Free humans were loose cannons.  Though carrying concealed weapons might be illegal, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t be turned on us.  More concerned with fighting the true enemies, we could face friendly fire.  Human bullets, despite being primitive, did their own damage and could be lethal to any of us. 

“So what are we going to do?”

Times like these, it was difficult being in charge.  Was it worth it?  Discredit Visser Three actively, or would he be doing enough on his own?  Risk the danger of relentless attacks?  And if we faced the Garatron again – we had no defense to such a creature.  As terrible as it was to admit, we were helpless against such a being.  If he would decide to assist Visser Three in destroying us – for his own personal gain, no doubt – Earth would lose its minor defense and we would lose our lives, at best.

There was only one option.  “Unless we can find a form that can at least match the Garatron, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Those jump attacks, we wouldn’t see him,” she countered, playing devil’s advocate.  “A speedy blue deer isn’t going to be walking around stores.”  Suddenly she giggled.

“What?”

Waving a hand, she apologized.  “I just imagined him tripping over a banana peel, like in those cartoons.  Or an oil slick. Vooop!” She mimed tripping and flipping with her finger.

“Don’t laugh if that ends up being our defense.”

“Cartoons have all the answers, don’t you know.”  After her amusement faded, Matilda looked at me.  “So we do nothing, wait these days out.”

“Unless there is anything we have to stop.”  I didn’t like this.  I didn’t like hiding from this threat.  My instincts wanted me to face it head-on, but my sense over-rode. 

Matilda patted my shoulder.  “We’ll get through this.  And that Garatron, just hope Visser Three doesn’t get it in his head to acquire him.” 

He wouldn’t.  Visser Three loathed the Inspector and wouldn’t demean himself in doing that.  “Do you know the real problem with that creature?  It could follow us, if it did it right, and then escape when it saw the children’s true forms.”

“You think of _really_ depressing things.  It’s a gift,” she said, leaning back in her seat.  “It must be.”

“Isn’t it?  Do you have any ideas?”

She looked at me, mildly surprised, before shrugging.  “I could go either way.  I’m not eager as the kids to go _wham, bam, thank you, ma’am_ , but then again, sitting down and just doing nothing, that’s not going to help us much either.  So I don’t know.”

“You’re some help.”

“Aren’t I?”  She stood up.  “He can’t be on Earth long.”

“We hope.”

 ****

‹That really isn’t very nice,› Marco commented, looking down at the pit for a moment.  Then he had to look away, banking to land on a branch.

I, limping, looked down as well.  The twisted body of the Garatron, with the primitive metal spikes coming through his body, lay down there.  Dead.  Or very near it.  ‹No.  No, it isn’t.›  I sent an eye to the air. 

‹Are you all right, Elfangor?  He really – ›

‹I’m fine,› I interrupted, ignoring the stinging from my chest, the blood from the wounds.

‹Right, sure you are.  I can see Tobias.  And Cassie.›

I waited until they were closer before addressing them.  Honestly, I still was catching my breath, fighting the pain.  ‹Are the Yeerks following him yet?›

‹I don’t see anyone yet,› Tobias said.  ‹And I might be sick.›

‹All clear this way, and I’m not looking.›  Cassie had disapproved of this plan because of the cruelty it offered, but she did not argue against it. 

‹We should depart.  The Yeerks will take care of the body.›  Playing the bait, the decoy so he would run where our trap was set, I started to move, making the cuts protest.  But it wasn’t terrible.  Flesh wounds.  Stinging, painful, annoying flesh wounds. I half-limped, half-ran away from our trap. 

The trap had been a good one, and, ironically, cartoons did help me think of the answer.  The television had had on the Saturaday morning cartoons, background noise, and there it was.  The characters who could always float in the air until they noticed they were not on any solid ground, and then gravity would regain its control.  The Garatron may have been able to run on water, but water had some surface tension.  Air had none.

So we, all of us, spent the day digging the hole – eight feet deep, long, and wide – and fashioning the spikes.  The numerous powerful morphs the children had made it an easy task.  Aximili and I had fashioned a weak covering, hiding the hole from sight.  It had only been a matter of demanding a battle.  Facing and killing me gave a possibility of some minor acclaim for the Inspector, and demanding the challenge in front of the other Yeerks, could he deny the battle and keep face?  Yeerks are an arrogant, proud species, over-confident.  I did not think so.  He was to be on the Council.  Running from a battle, one he should be confident in a win, would serve him no benefit.   

Aximili had given the message to the Yeerks at a meeting place the Chee informed us about, and the humans had been spaced at the edges of our thought-speak range, so they could see the Inspector go by, give me some warning.  The plan was, they could either warn each other, like a game of telephone, or if someone missed him, the next hopefully wouldn’t.  Tobias, Marco, and Cassie had been the closest to me, made it to see the fall of the Garatron and made sure I was still alive, or at least able to move.  If I had not been able to, Marco, as a gorilla, could have helped carry me to safety.

Thankfully, I was not at such a weakness. 

I had barely had Marco’s warning before the Garatron appeared in front of me.  The words we exchanged weren’t important, and he attacked rashly, boldly, striking his whiplike tail over and over into my flank.  The challenge had been staying to my hooves.  If I had fallen, I would have been easy to trample, and I had to guide him to the trap, so he would run and fall into it.

The worst of it was being faced with the fact that my tail was nearly useless, that my eyes gave me little warning.  As an Andalite, the idea was unfathomable.   

In the end, the Garatron fell due to his own arrogance.  His attack of narrow and wide circles brought him right to the hole with little effort from me.  Garatron apparently did not watch where they walked.  An Andalite could have seen the trap, noticed the uneven grasses, but at that speed and being more concerned with me, it caught him by surprise.

Gravity worked.

It always does.  It brings one literally back down to Earth, as the case may be.

 ****

“Okay, head back,” I said, gently tilting Matilda’s head back so I could finish applying the hair dye.  It was a monthly tradition, necessary to conceal her true hair color.  Sometimes of the children did the task – Rachel was trying to decide if she wanted to dye her hair as well, but her mother was firmly against it – but usually it fell to me.  I didn’t mind.  Well, perhaps I really did.  The scent was terrible and, honestly, I wasn’t a fan of the midnight black.  But this was something that had to be done, so I did her hair every fourth Thursday.

“I’ve been thinking, maybe next time I should go red,” she commented.

“If you wish, but it wouldn’t show up.  You’d have to strip your hair first.”

She ignored me and let me tilt her head to the side.  “Do you think I’d look good with red hair?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think about your hair.”  I bent her ear to get the hair there.

After making a noise, she suggested, “Maybe I should put pink stripes in it.”

“Why?”

She shrugged.  “Why not?  Or do you think I’m too old for that?”

There were certain arguments you did not tempt.  “Of course not.  No, sit still,” I scolded when she tried to turn in her seat.

“I can’t tell if you’re lying if I can’t see your face,” she pouted.

“I’m not lying.  Stop fidgeting,” I smiled.  “You’re getting this all over.”

Matilda took a deep, overly-theatrical breath and sat straighter, fixing the towel around her shoulders.  “We should dye your hair.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” she repeated cheekily.  “And I’m curious if it’d stay when you demorph.”  She started giggling.

“Dare I ask?”

“I was just imagining you platinum blond as an Andalite.”

“You are aware I hold the fate of your hair in my hands,” I said evenly, struggling not to smile.

Her laughter was louder, but Matilda quickly stifled it.  “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed.

“Head forward,” I said, pushing her head forward more in jest than anything else. 

“Ass.”

“Brat.”

She giggled again.

“I’m surprised you don’t dye Champ’s fur.  You have half a bottle left,” I said once she stopped.  “Okay, you can sit up.”

“Champ is perfect the way he is.”

“And I’m not?”

She looked over her shoulder at me, as if deciding, and I raised a brow at her.  “No.  No, I don’t think so.”

“Thank you for that.”  I rolled my eyes and pulled the gloves off, before picking up a wet dishtowel.  She turned in the seat and raised her chin, and I wiped off the areas where the dye had colored her skin.  When I finished, she wrapped her head in the shower cap and took off the stained towel before the setting the timer.

“Sometimes, this is so stupid,” she commented.

“What is?” I asked as I threw away the kit. 

“I’m dying my hair so I can hide from aliens.  It’s like bad TV.”

“Don’t be so cruel.  TV isn’t this awful.”

She gave me a scolding look for my impertinence.  “Sometimes, you are just not allowed to talk, okay.”

“And is this one of those times?”

With a shrug, she said, “It could be one.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You totally are.  I’ve seen you run from me in the morning.”

“That’s self-preservation, dear, not fear,” I countered.  “You are _not_ a morning person.”  She never had been.

Matilda shook her head.  “And there is something mentally wrong with people that _are_.”

“I don’t suppose I can argue with that,” I agreed.

“You can’t.  You just have to accept that I am always right.”

“But not always correct.”

She waved a hand.  “Semantics.”

“But still true.”

“Sometimes, I can almost think you could be a politician.”

I glared at her.  “There is no need to be insulting.”

Hiding her smile, Matilda leaned in the chair.  She looked so smug that if she had put her bare feet up on the table to lean back, it wouldn’t have surprised me.  Looking at her legs, my eyes narrowed.

“Are those my sweat pants?” I asked, though I already knew the answer and was upset at the proof.  I didn’t want hair dye stains on them!

“Are they?” she said innocently.  “They were in my laundry basket.  And they’re so comfortable.”

“They _are_ mine.  How are they even staying up on you?”  While I was not large in the middle, not to extremes, I was wider than her.

She pulled on some cords.  “Drawstrings.”

“Why do you insist on stealing my clothes?”  And she _did_.  My over shirts, my dress shirts, my sweat pants, my slippers, my T-shirts, my boxers.  It’s not like she didn’t have her own clothes to wear.  And if she needed more, she knew where my credit card was, and it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to use _that_.

Matilda gave me a look.  “Elfangor, you do know you’re not really human, right?”

I scowled and looked away.  “That’s not the point.  They’re mine.”

“Aww, don’t pout, little Prince.  It you ask, I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t.”

For a moment, she almost argued, but then she laughed.  “I probably won’t.  And it really doesn’t bother you.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.  You’re just making it bother you because it really doesn’t.”

I gave her a confused look as I sat across from her.  “That … doesn’t make sense.”

Her nose crinkled with amusement.  “It does if you think about it.”

I thought about it for a few seconds.  “No, no it doesn’t.  Faulty human logic again rears its head.”

“I think you Andalites just can’t understand humans as well as you think you can.”

“No Andalite can understand humans,” I smiled.

“Well, I think humans can understand Andalites.”

“Really?”

She nodded.  “All we have to do is think of the dumbest thing to do, and there we go.  Or which way would lead to food,” she added as an afterthought.

“And yet I constantly surprise you.”

Matilda scoffed.  “I never said you ever surprise me.”

“I always surprise you.”

She shook her head, a tilted smile on her face.  “I think what you do is surprise yourself.”

I sighed.  “You’re just going to deny everything I say, aren’t you?”

“Well, I am always right,” she said modestly.

“And you call me the ass.”

“Ass, Andalite, close alphabetically.  Coincidence?  I think not.”

“Idiot, Human, also close.”

“Not as close.”

“Close enough.”

Matilda shook her head, then straightened her cap.  “Can I ask, since we are talking about name-calling, why Matilda?”

I blinked.  “Why what?”

“Why did you pick the name Matilda?” she repeated.  “I mean, it’s not very common.  At least, I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” I said, perhaps defensively. 

“No, but since I have to deal with it, I just was curious.  I have been for a while,” she admitted.  “Did you hear A-Waltzing Matilda or something?”

“Hear what?”  Then deciding I really didn’t care, I sighed.  “I just saw the name on a movie.  It wasn’t that important.  I just needed a name.  I didn’t know it wasn’t common.”  I gave her a guilty look.  “It’s not a … a bad name, is it?”

“No, no it’s not,” she laughed, patting my hand.  “I think I’m a little relieved it’s not Brittney or those other pop stars the kids listen to.”

“What would you rather it have been?” I asked.

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I mean, it’s not that big of a deal or anything, and it’s grown on me.  Of course, no one really calls me it, except you, and even then not too often.  You always make a face.”

I blinked.  “I do?”  I did?

“Well, not in public, but around here, you do.  It’s not very strong.  I mean, not a yuck-face.  Just a little one,” she said, failing to properly explain.  “It’s not _that_ noticeable.”

It must be, if she noticed it.  I made a note to practice in a mirror to see if I could fix it.  “Even still.”

“Even still,” she agreed.  “And it’s not that bad of a name.  At least no one misspells it.  Whenever I used to tell people my name, I always had to go L-O-R-E-N, not L-A-U-R-E-N.”

“Really?”

She nodded.  “You have that problem?”

I shook my head.  “No.  My name is common.  Not popular, but common enough that people can easily spell it.”

“How does it look written in your language?”

Surprised at the request, I only blinked for a moment until I realized myself, got up, and retrieved a notepad and pen.  I quickly wrote out my name using the familiar script, and turned it so she could see.

She nodded with approval.  “It’s very pretty.  And that sounds silly, doesn’t it?” she grinned, looking at me.  “Write my name.”

“In what form?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I faltered.  “Do you mean your full name or your primary?  This is my full name, of course.  My primary name is only this part,” I said, indicating the start.

“Oh.  Umm, my full name.  Loren Marie ____.”

If part of me winced that she didn’t use her maiden name, I didn’t notice.  After thinking about the characters, I wrote it out and showed her.  “It’s not a direct translation,” I warned as she examined it.  “We don’t have a letter-by-letter conversion, and Andalites don’t write things out phonetically.  After all, it’s not like we hear words.  But I think this is reasonably close.”

Her finger traced the markings.    “What does it say, really?” she asked quietly.

“It is your name,” I said, a bit wounded that she didn’t trust me.

“That’s not what I meant.  I meant … what is it, really?  What’s different?”

Oh.  Yes, now I understood.  “It is only little things.  I mean, if I were to introduce you, you would hear no difference.  Though, I suppose _hear_ is the wrong verb to use to describe thought-speak.  It is very difficult to explain.”

“Try,” she pleaded.

I sighed.  “Andalite characters are based on symbols.  A very long time ago, eons, we couldn’t thought-speak.  We communicated with hand signals.  It’s a very ancient practice that some Andalites still specialize in, though it is common to use military signs on a bridge.”  Even as I spoke, my human hands gave examples.  “The characters were imitations of what the hand gesture would have been.  Like my primary name.” I pointed to it.  “It is ultimately a derivative of a symbol that meant a certain type of flower.”

“A flower?” she repeated, eyes bright and grinning.  “Your name is like Rose or Lily?”

“It’s a very nice flower,” I defended.  Actually, it isn’t.  Well, yes, it is a nice flower, but it’s not showy or very popular.  Not like a rose or a lily.  Probably, I thought sarcastically, like a dandelion.  It’s a hardy little plant with small blossoms, but it had been around for thousands of years.  There were carvings of images of it on old stones and tail blades.  “And it doesn’t actually mean that anymore.  It’s just a derivative.”

“I’m sorry, just teasing.”

I glared at her for a moment longer, but she was unrepentant.  “Anyway, the primary derivative is here.”

“The flower part.”

I scowled at her tone, which was far too amused for my liking.  “Yes.  The flower part.  Over time, other symbols got added.  I’m not studied in it, so I don’t know what they actually mean, but they altered it to become my modernized name.  Many names follow the same general trend.  There really isn’t something for your name to connect to a particular symbol.”

“Oh, okay.  I guess that makes sense.  So what did you do?”

“Earth has a plant called a laurel bush.  Whether or not there is a relationship between your name and it, I used that to connect to a standard form of a tree that looks familiar and added a feminine character.”

“So really, that says _Girl Tree_.”

“Only as much as mine says _Boy Flower_ ,” I said, amused.  “Marie was a similar problem. I think it has something to do with water in Earth culture –”

“Or the Virgin Mary.”

“Or that,” I allowed, “so I altered it to mean a small drop of water, or rain, with the feminine connotation.”

“So you basically infer a meaning to my name and found something that meant the same thing?”

“Yes, more or less, but they really are names.  They could be used, though they would be admittedly odd.  But, to an Andalite, your human name is odd.  I didn’t make up something like Drawer-ish or Jar-ness.”

“Thank God for that.”

I nodded and looked at my writing.  “In any case, you wouldn’t go by this name on my world anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Andalite females do not take their mate’s final name.  You would go by your birth name for your whole life.”

“How would it change?” she asked, curious, and I rewrote her name.  She looked at it intently and pointed out an additional curl.  “How come you changed this part in my first name?” 

“It is just how it is done.”

“But why?”

I shrugged.  “It just is.  It is merely an extra inflection.  Like how humans add an S to mean possession, except that’s not for possession.  It is just a grammatical practice when the terminal name has a particular set of symbols.  Unless you’re actually going to learn how to read Andalitese, it’s not very important to know why.”

Matilda nodded, even though she was frowning, but I think it was mostly because she didn’t understand.  “How come the girls don’t take the guys last name?”

“Why should they?”

She didn’t know how to answer that.  “How come you have three names?”

“Why do you?”

“That’s different.  My last name is because of my family.  You and Ax don’t have any names in common.”

“I share my father’s middle name, and Aximili shares mother’s,” I pointed out.

“Is there a reason for that?”

I shook my head.  “Not particularly.  Our parents are traditionalists, or at least our father is, and the middle name is usually passed down in one of the children’s names.  _Sirinial_ has been in my father’s family many generations and he very much wanted it to pass.  _Esgarrouth_ , though, they merely dropped to Aximili for tradition.  I think it mattered more to Father than to Mother, and she just humored him.”

We shared a smile, and then Matilda asked, “So is there any reason for the names?  Are they all just names?  Like, could I be Loren-Marie-Alice or something?”

“They are really just names.  The terminal names tend to be older names, though. Elfangor and Aximili are relatively modern, altered more to be primary names.  Shamtul and Isthill go back ages, if based on ancient writings. Some say they used to be herd names, or how the herd identified itself to another.  Like, ‘We are the Herd Shamtul; hello, Herd Isthill.’  And there is strong evidence that the secondary names did signify parents.  However, any name is likely to be in any position.  It depends on the family.”

“So how do you know who is related, if you don’t have any names in common?”

“There are no obvious signs,” I admitted.  “At least for those who aren’t Andalites.  I mean, I can tell if someone is related to another Andalite, especially if it a first-degree connection.  It is something more ingrained in Andalite physiology, a subtle connection we naturally pick up on, perhaps something even psychically.  Unless the family is estranged, there will be a … a bond present.  There will be more eye contact, a closeness not found in strangers.  If you are raised in our culture, it is not difficult to see.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

I smiled.  “You guess?”

She smiled back.  “What does Ax’s name mean?”

“I think its root is, in the crests of the waves with a soft wind.”

“Wow.  That’s … specific.  And sort of poetic.  Better than flower, anyway.”  She smirked at me.

“I really hope your name means something terrible, so I can mock you.”

She laughed and looked back at her name.  “So you really would just say this like my real name?”

I nodded.

For a moment, she seemed pleased, and then she frowned.  “How does that work?”

“Thought-speak?”

“No, but that’d be interesting to learn.  How come whenever you say Andalite words, you know how they sound with ears or whatever?  I mean, if you can’t talk with a mouth, how did you … figure out sounds?”

I smiled and shook my head.  “It is very long and drawn out.  When Andalites first learned how to communicate over long distances, we used to use something like Morse code with very primitive computers.  We hadn’t learned how to develop communicators that translated thought-speak.   But it was a very complicated communication method, since we don’t spell like humans do.  After a while, much of our world had agreed on a single way of writing.  There was a period when a lot of communication was done like a fax, with written messages sent back and forth.  It was poor communication, because one couldn’t speak in real time until we made primitive computers that humans would think of as IM chats.  There were also some regions who went into straight visual communication, where it was all done with hand signals on what would be a very bad television set.  Eventually we made things like early telephones and arranged synthesizers for certain words, and more and more became agreed upon.  It was a very long process, and there were even areas of dialects and slangs.  Before thought-speak communicators were created, Andalites used to learn the sounds and would essentially type-out a sentence to be sent, and soon we learned how to get the computers to directly translate thought-speak into the sounds, and the audible order would have been sent.  It wasn’t until maybe two hundred years ago that we actually got proper thought-speak communicators like we have today.”

“But it’s not like you’re going fa-la-la-tra or whatever.  I mean, they sound like words,” she argued.

“Our first sound systems were a bit better than that,” I said, amused.  “We also met other races and used their limitations to make sounds.  It never was a stagnant system, and it took hundreds of years.”

Matilda shook her head and looked at the notepad with our names on it.  “I still don’t understand how, if someone just saw my name, they’d figure out what it really sounded like.”

I shouldn’t find such amusement in her predicament.  She was thinking like a human.  I must have been smiling too much, because she scowled at me.

“It’s not funny!”

“I didn’t say it was,” I placated. 

“It doesn’t _make sense_.  I mean, you probably took words that don’t even sound like my name when you say them with a mouth.  How does it _work_?”

She sounded like such a young child that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.  “You’re thinking like a human, not like an Andalite.  You’re trying to talk with a mouth, not with thought-speak.  What do we care what something sounds like?”

“But … but how?  If you talk in thought-speak, I know what words you’re saying.  I could pronounce them!” she said, frustrated.

“There are different levels to thought-speak.  These days, many Andalites do just project words and sentences, but we can just as easily project imagines and scenes.  But that is a very childish method.”

Matilda glared at me.  “You’re totally by-passing the question.  Because you don’t know!”

I couldn’t stop it, and laughter came from me in guffaws.  As she might have killed me if I didn’t get under control, I stopped and thought.  “I suppose, if we must be honest, they would not.”

“HA!” she crowed.

“However, there is no way someone would be presented with your name on its own.  It’s obviously a proper name.  Any communications that say it would instantly transmit the appearance and sound to another Andalite.  I mean, thought-speak is much more advanced than basing everything on a mouth and ears.”

“But if it was—”

“If it was, and that Andalite passed it on to another, it is likely you might have a variation of audible pronouncation, but I do not know why that would be terrible.  Tah-may-toe, tah-mah-toe, after all.”

Matilda leaned back, arms crossed.  “Your languae is crap.”

“No, yours is.”

“I don’t think so.  Ours makes sense.”

“Yours is very simple and uncomplex,” I said sweetly, perhaps over-exaggerating.  English did have its annoying little quirks.

She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when the alarm went off and told her it was time to remove the dye.  For a moment, Matilda looked like she was going to ignore it, but then she stood up like a petulant child and turned it off.  However, she apparently had to get the last dig in.  “Go play with Bambi and Thumper, _Flower_ ,” she said as she went upstairs after ripping out the sheet I wrote the names on.

I glared at her, then smiled conspiringly when I heard the shower start and go on for half a minute.  Still smiling, I strolled to the bathroom, waited half a minute more, and then flushed the toilet.  Her scream filled the house and I smirked.

“ELFANGOR!  I’ll going to _kill_ you!”

“Get in line!” I yelled back.

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elfangor's name meaning "Flower" is a throw-back to the name of the Ellimist's child. I personally believe the Ellimist likes to pay attention to certain descendants of his, to their disappointment.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Is Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 38

The door slammed open and feet ran.  “Elfangor!  Elfangor!”

My head snapped up from where it was, monitoring the oven, and I instantly was panicked.  They were not to yell my name unless they were certain it was safe.  Or if something terrible had happened.  I was already running and almost collided with my little brother.

We spoke at the same time.  “What is –”

“They are here!” he yelled.

“The Yeerks?!”  Then why was he smiling?! I made to turn, to flee. “We must –”

He grabbed my sleeve.  “No, no, Elfangor!  The Fleet!  They have arrived, Brother!”

I blinked in surprise; my knees were suddenly weak and my hands gripped Aximili’s human shoulders to hold myself up.  “The Fleet?” I croaked.  “Are you certain?”

Aximili nodded.  “There was one at the mall!”

“One soldier,” Matilda interrupted when it seemed I was truly going to fall. 

“Going nuts at the candy store,” Tobias added.  “We barely got her out without attracting security.”

“More than was already attracted from my ‘niece’.”  Matilda gave a rueful smile. 

“Her name is Estrid-Corill-Darrath,” Aximili continued blithely while I forced myself to a chair, feeling all the world like grass had been snatched from beneath my hooves.  Aximili kept prattling on about how we were finally going to win against the Yeerks.  I couldn’t even think.

I almost jumped a mile when a hand touched my shoulder.  “Elfangor, are you all right?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Matilda said, and suddenly I saw all of their concern, even Aximili’s.  It occurred to me that he had stopped speaking some time ago.

“I’m fine,” I said abruptly, standing.  “It’s about time they arrived.  Did she say anything?”

“She gave directions on where we can meet her commanding officer.  Imagine, a female in the military!”

I snorted as I went back to the kitchen.  “Obviously you have learned nothing during your time on this planet,” I snapped, “if you think females cannot fight.”

Aximili blinked, then gave an apologetic glance to Matilda.  “I did not mean – that is, well …”

Matilda smiled.  “Just be happy Rachel wasn’t here to hear you say it, Ax.”

“You would have been on your own, Ax-man.”

He puffed out, “I am not scared of Rachel.”  Seeing that I was going away, he followed.  “Elfangor, do you not wish to know what she said?”

I looked in the oven again.  “You will tell me whether I wish it or not.  I only have to say is, if the Andalite fleet is present, the Yeerks seem remarkably calm.”  There is no way they could have just arrived, if a warrior was touring a mall.  And there is no reasonable way a Yeerk Blade ship and an Andalite Dome ship would not be doing battle the second they were within contact of each other.  My morning check of Yeerk computer activities had hinted no turmoil.

There was silence behind me.  “Maybe they just don’t know it yet,” Tobias suggested, but it was clear I took the wind from their sails.

“They’re waiting for the right moment to strike.  Perhaps they want to know what we know so they can do the most damage,” Matilda added.

“Get the rest of the children,” I said quietly, opening the oven door and pulling out the soufflé.  Though now I wasn’t very hungry for it, and I set it on the cooling tray.  “And let’s meet this fleet.”

“Can we eat that first?”

I laughed and turned to look at them.  “Why not?  There is no point going to disappointment on an empty stomach.”

“It might not be, Elfangor,” Matilda said reproachfully.  “This could be it.”

For some reason, that idea terrified me.

 ****

I flew to this meeting place with the others.  I could have ran, but I wanted to fly.  I was a pilot, despite what being on Earth had forced me to do. 

Aximili would meet them, as agreed, except for the, with me, part.  I sighed at his eagerness.  Part of me thought it was hope, but another could not help but think it was because of a female. 

If I had ever been so … so utterly pathetic because of a female, I promised to kill myself. 

His pleasure at seeing her at the thicket made me groan. 

Her displeasure at seeing Jake demorph as well made me pleased.  Jake had won the dubious honor of being allowed to piss off the Andalites.  Rachel and Marco had been very disappointed.  So had I.  I thought Marco would have done a better job.

I flew, following them until I saw the three other Andalites at the edge of the pond.  There I perched, well within listening range. 

They were very insulted that I had sent Jake in my stead. 

‹Elfangor sends a human male-child as his representation?!› one, a commander, roared.  ‹An insult to everything an Andalite stands for!›

“Prince Elfangor doesn’t waste his time dealing with those that aren’t going to further our fight,” Jake said simply.  “And Andalites that don’t help deserve all the insults he sends.”

Maybe I was wrong.  Perhaps Jake would do.  He was rude in a polite way, a trick neither Rachel nor Marco had yet learned or mastered.

‹Then again, what sort of Andalite is he, to give humans the ability to morph?› the commander sneered, and my feathers bristled at the same time my pulse dropped, and I had to look away.

“One who realizes anyone can fight, despite species.”

‹Perhaps we should speak of our common goals?› Aximili suggested diplomatically, perhaps hoping to spare my feelings at hearing such opinions.

“Yes.  Why are you here?  Prince Elfangor knows you are not with the Fleet, that it is not here.  It was small work to determine that you aren’t here to assist us.  You are here for your own mission.”   That was conjecture on my part.  Correct conjecture, but conjecture nonetheless.

An Andalite spoke.  ‹We are Unit O.  An assassination and sabotage team.›  He introduced the others and himself, but I was stuck on that bit.  Whom did they intend to assassinate?  Hopefully not me.

When Estrid’s position was mocked, she responded by proving her worth.  She attacked my brother.  I was almost out of the tree before I calmed myself.  No one struck my brother except me!

And suddenly they were being such children, tail fighting.  And those warriors were permitting it, placing bets!

The children were not much better, cheering Aximili on.  I seriously almost demorphed and berated the foolish pair for acting like a couple of fresh-from-the-Academy _aristh_ s.  Almost.  Instead, I gripped the branch tighter.

I was very pleased, though, when Aximili won.  That would not stop me from scolding him later.  And if he dared to use the excuse, _she started it_ , I might very well have to do something especially vicious.

Finally, they told us the object of their assassination.  Visser Three.  Arbat’s brother. 

‹Will it be possible for us to meet with Prince Elfangor?› Arbat asked, more to Aximili than to Jake.

“We will speak with him,” Jake said slowly.  “But it will ultimately be his choice.”

Gonrod snipped, ‹He is disgraced.  That is why he sent a human child.  He will not dare show us his face.›

Aloth gave a mocking laugh.  ‹If it the Elfangor I remember, he will.  It will be you who won’t want to show your face to him.›

This one knew me?  I wondered who he was, because I couldn’t remember.

‹Be quiet!› Gonrod ordered.  But I heard the fear.  And I knew this was no ordinary team.

‹Aximili, Jake, leave them,› I ordered quietly.  ‹All of you, go home.  Come to my home at seven tonight and we will discuss this … wrinkle.  But first, tell them … tell them that I will kill them if they approach me, if they follow any of you.›  My voice was cold.

They did as ordered and I saw each of them disappear, go off.  Part of me expected them to come back, at least one of them.  I stayed in my tree and watched the Andalites.

‹Should we follow them?› Gonrod asked.  ‹Why let him come to us?  Let’s find him and get this mission over with.  He loathes Visser Three and would help us.›

‹Yes.  He has faced the Abomination multiple times and has rarely run,› Aloth said.  Gonrod bristled.

‹Don’t be fools.  He was probably here.  He probably still is here,› Arbat said smoothly, his eyes looking over the area.  ‹Do you honestly believe he would send his brother and a human child alone?›

I was only slightly impressed at the deduction.  Not enough to show myself, though, because really, my actions were obvious.

‹Aximili will go to his brother.  We can locate him with his DNA pattern, and then Elfangor,› Estrid suggested a bit eagerly.  ‹I would like to meet Prince Elfangor.›

I cursed all these new-fangled regulations, ignoring the female.  That made a problem, if they could find Aximili with a flick of a switch.

‹And risk Elfangor’s temper?› Aloth said with a snort.  ‹I trained under him, and I tell you, the last thing you want is him mad at you.  It must have been his favorite pastime to bang us upside the head.  And if you dared to block him, he showed you exactly how good of a tail fighter he was.  And he was good.›

I would have blushed, had I been human.  Was it my fault I always got uppity _aristh_ s to train?  The only time things stuck in their heads was when my tail beat it into them.  I swear, they must have sent the worst to me.

Arbat looked thoughtful.  ‹He will come to us.  He will want to rid the universe of Visser Three.  Besides, he will not risk not asking us to join his battle.›

No, that I would risk.

And why does everyone call it _my_ battle?

Finally they took to the air.  In kafit bird morphs.  I sneered in disgust but followed them discretely.  They went to the Gardens and to their hidden ship.  And I went home.

After one little stop.

 ****

We sat in my kitchen, eating the pizza that had been delivered. 

“So, what are we gonna do?” Rachel asked.  “We could get rid of Visser Three.”

“It’s cruel and immoral,” Cassie countered.

However, they all looked at me.  They still remembered that I gave the okay.  My orders. I remained silent, chewing.  Looking out the window I had opened.

“Maybe they will help us fight the Yeerks,” Matilda said.

“Getting rid of Visser Three is fighting the Yeerks,” Marco pointed out.

“Not by assassination,” I said, daring to look away from the window.  Only because I was certain I had seen what I had seen, the small motions that started from the grasses and bushes at the edge of the forest and came to the plants by the back porch.  The way Champ had cocked his head, curious, before stepping to the window, as if to try and see something strange out there.  “If I worked that way, you wouldn’t have an assistant principal, Jake wouldn’t have a brother, and you wouldn’t have a mother.  Because wouldn’t it be so very easy, late at night, break into wherever they are, or even on a crowded street?  You don’t even need a Dracon beam or Shredder.  A gun will work as easily.  All you do is point and fire.”  And my arm raised and I shot out the window with the Shredder from Gafinilan’s home while the children all leaped away, two shots.  Twin screams of pain, and Champ barked with excitement.

“Go invite our guests in.”  They all stared at me.  “Go!  Before they get away.  By the porch or somewhere near, I’m sure.”

Aximili and Jake rushed out, Jake grabbing a flashlight because of the dimming light.  Champ tried to follow, but they kept him inside. 

“How did you see them?  We can’t see anything!” Cassie asked, watching as they went into the yard.  I didn’t answer, because once they saw our guests, they would understand.  Of course, not that I had actually seen them.  The beam had been set on wide dispersal, to cover the whole of the area.  But I had a theory as to what type of morphs they were in, if they had used kafit morphs to return to their ship.

“Where did you get the Shredder?” Rachel demanded.

I ignored them, going under the sink and withdrawing a cage.  Matilda moved the pizza so I could set it on the table just as Aximili and Jake returned, holding animals that obviously weren’t from Earth and trying to keep the dog from being too investigational.

“This is a djabala and that is a hoober,” Aximili said when Cassie asked.

“How did they find us?” Marco demanded.  “I made sure I wasn’t followed, and I know the rest of us did as well.”

“Andalite technology.  It is no one’s fault,” I said, setting back into my chair and staring at the creatures. I wouldn’t share the exact technology, because my brother did not need to know it was his fault.  Because it wasn’t. 

I set the Shredder down firmly, and the djabala’s eyes followed it.  The hoober looked simply terrified, but that’s hoobers for you.  “And as you are aware, that was the lowest setting.  Make no mistake, I will kill you once this interview is over.”

The children all stared at me, and the hoober shook even more.  That would be the female, then.  I truly only say so because she is an _aristh_ and a novice to these sorts of situations, not because she is a female.  When confronting someone you wish to have join your team, you always bring someone who appears weak.  It gives the other person confidence.

“Provided, of course, you give me reason not to,” I added quietly.  “Should you pass the two hour limit, I will release you.  Now who do I have the … honor of addressing?”

‹I am Intelligence Advisor Arbat-Elivat-Estoni,› the djabala said carefully.  ‹This is Estrid-Corill-Darrath.  We mean no harm.›

‹Please don’t kill us,› Estrid added pitifully.

“I believe Jake told you not to try and find me,” I said with disinterest. 

‹You will not kill us,› Arbat said.

“Which is kinder?  Kill you or force you to become _nothlit_ s?  Either way, your mission will be over.  If that is your mission.”  More conjecture.  But you never trust an Intelligence Advisor.  They had the intelligence, not you.  And they never say what they mean.

‹You do not believe we are here to assassinate Visser Three?› Arbat asked.

I smiled secretly.  That was an answer to a question not asked.  “What I believe is not the issue.  Obviously, you need me, or at least one of us.  If Visser Three is your mission, you need to know where he goes, is, where the Yeerk pool is.”

‹Yes.  We do.›

“And you think we will help you?”  I shook my head.  “No.  This is your mission, and I do not trust any of you.  And you know why?” I leaned forward, leveling my gaze at the djabala.  “Because you do not send _aristh_ s on assassination and sabatoge missions.  And you certainly don’t send one when the target is Visser Three.”

The djabala was silent.

“Also, I work with no one so sloppy as to not get morphs native to the planet when they are going on a spying mission.  Especially not an Intelligence Advisor.”  I thought about that.  “Then again, perhaps that was your goal.  I cannot be bothered, and I will be leaving.  Let them go in two hours.”

“Elfangor –” Aximili started, then silenced at my cold glare.

“I have given all of you an order,” I said softly.  And then, as I turned, I smirked and winked.  ‹Let them go when they start panicking, or in an hour, at least.  Find out what you can, and pretend you hate going against my orders, that it’ll be your little secret.  And have fun.›

“And where are you going?” Matilda called while Marco took a manic gleam.

“Just to give the bad news to the others.  I feel I should break it to them in person.”

 ****

‹I thank you for your assistance,› I said to Mr. King, though secretly wishing another Chee had been able to assist.  Foolish, but then again, desires usually are.  It is just I could not help but recall the boy he had appeared to be, tending my yard, three times swindling me of $30.  He could have been honest and I told me I was over-paying him, after all, at least the second or third time.

It made me wonder if he was just being very covert, imitating what other human teens would do, or if all Chee took advantage of the ignorant.

“It is no problem.  The Chee owe you.”

‹Perhaps.  Don’t bother speaking to them.  Just look imposing.›

The Chee nodded and we stopped walking in front of the hidden ship.  The holographic van around us stopped moving as well.

I took a deep breath before calling at the ship, stating my name, demanding entrance.  It was a scant few minutes later when the lower hatch opened.  Mr. King and I walked towards it, and soon the Chee was disguised as an Andalite, a very large and intimidating one. 

We were met by armed Andalites.  I glared at them.  ‹Lower your weapons.  We’re not here to attack.›

‹Prince Elfangor,› Aloth said respectfully, lowing his willingly.  Gonrod did so much slower.  ‹It is an honor to meet you again.›

I inclined my head.  ‹I apologize, for I do not remember you, Prince Aloth.  And you are the commander of this vessel?› I asked the other

Gonrod carefully agreed.  He was skittish, as if he expected me to slice him if he stood wrong.  He would not be the first, I admit, to think such things of me, but it was annoying.  ‹I am.  Why have you come here, Prince Elfangor?›

‹To learn of your mission.›

‹We have come to assassinate Visser Three, as we told your brother and human.  Who are you?› Aloth asked Mr. King.

‹He is of no importance to you.  And I will determine if you are here to assassinate him.›

‹The High Command gave me the orders!› Gonrod exclaimed.

‹In person?  Show me to your computers.›

‹You should speak with Arbat.  He will –›

I interrupted, speaking coldly.  ‹I have already dealt with your comrades.›  Aloth was surprised, but remained professional.  Gonrod, I thought, looked beyond terrified.

‹You’ve killed them?›

‹Your computers?› I repeated.

Gonrod looked sick, but finally led me to the interior, to a console.  ‹We do not know any of the passwords,› he started.

I silenced him and nodded to Mr. King.  He went to the computer and started breaking in, slower than I knew he could, but I wanted the Chee to remain hidden.  ‹Tell me about your ship, Commander.  It seems worthy.›  A lie.  The ship … well, it was another clue that this mission was not as it appeared.

Commander Gonrod spoke, told me the speeds and weapons and the like.  Not much for weapons.

‹So in a battle, your basic defense is to pat your tail good-bye?› I asked and noticed Aloth smirk. 

‹Or to run away,› he said snidely.  Gonrod paled.

I finally understood all of the jibes.  A coward.  I held my sneer and said diplomatically,  ‹Sometimes the best course of action is a strategic retreat.  Run away to fight another day, as the humans say.›  This was no ordinary mission.  You didn’t send known cowards along with _arisths_ to face Visser Three.

Gonrod wasn’t fooled by my words and avoided my gaze.

Mr. King managed to break through the defenses and gave me a signal.  ‹Can you find the official mission report for this ship?›  After a moment, the Chee shook his head.  I frowned.  ‹Tell me, where exactly is Arbat-Elivat-Estoni stationed?  Check the military records first.›

Typing ensued.  And when Mr. King motioned, I looked.  _Killed in Action_.  ‹How?›  Moments later, my answer.  Killed on another ship.  In battle, far from Earth.  ‹Check the others.  Gonrod-Isfall-Sonilli, Aloth-Attamil-Gahar, and Estrid-Corill-Darrath.›

Within seconds, three of the four were dead, and the other never existed.  ‹Congratulations, gentlemen.  You’re all dead.›

‹What?›

‹You can’t kill us!›

I glared.  ‹You all died commendably in battle onboard the _Ralek River_.  Except your _aristh_ , and there is no record of her anywhere.›

‹But I got my orders from the War High Command!›

‹What’s going on?› Aloth demanded.  ‹I wasn’t granted pardon to be claimed dead on another ship!›

Granted pardon?  I filed that away and I thought about the pieces, arranging them into their picture. Even though most were missing, what I saw wasn’t pleasant.  ‹This is a suicide-mission, one that has not actually been approved by the High Command.  You’re being played for patsies.›

‹Patsies?›

I smiled meanly.  Sometimes I enjoyed being able to call others human words and have them not understand.  ‹This is a lab ship. Where is the lab?›

‹Second tier, but it’s closed off to preserve the power for environment,› Aloth said.  ‹There’s nothing there.›

‹You expect me to believe you?  You didn’t even know you were dead.  Let’s go see what’s there.›

Never trust Intelligence Advisors.

The lab was there, and it was in use.  We all could tell as we advanced towards the lab; the smell of death was strong.  Even I felt nervous and tense.  Gonrod and Aloth were shocked at the finding, and I ordered them stationed at the door while I asked Mr. King to check the files.  Quietly, he said to me, “I am afraid I do not understand these files, Prince Elfangor.”

‹I do not blame you.  They … appear to be very advanced.  Advanced gibberish.  To my eyes, anyway.›

Mr. King smiled.  “I think I recognize a few biology phrases in these pages.”  I didn’t ask where, because these pages were jammed with small, cramp typing.  And I didn’t want to know what they said, because my hearts stopped.  It was impossible, not again … but it was making sense.  Horrible sense.

‹Find where the agent is, please,› I said quietly.  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe it was all innocent.  But I could not risk Earth.  Not my humans.  And not myself when I was in morph, nor my brother.  ‹Then … destroy everything.  Make it so even a Chee couldn’t get the information again.›

He looked at me, surprised.  “Very well.”

‹I wished you had not witnessed my people at their worst,› I said, speaking also to myself.

“Perhaps I am seeing their best.”

I shook my head.  ‹No. No.  It is their worst.  An _aristh_ with no record, with no proof of existence, a crew that is dead.  And not an even exemplary crew at that – one a coward and one that needed pardon.  The remaining an Intelligence Advisor.  What is the saying humans have, three strikes and you’re in?  Or is it out?›  I shook my head. Sports metaphors.  ‹Have you found it?›

“Them.  There are three compounds that seem to be under strong protection and isolation.”  He told me where they were.

‹Do you know how to destroy them, safely?›

The chemical make-up of each came up, and the Chee regarded them carefully. “A Shredder blast should do it.”

‹Good.  I’ll do it.  Take care of the computers, and make sure there is nothing hidden in other directories, other files.  I don’t care if you have to make it so they’re stranded here to do it, though I hope you don’t have to go to such an extreme, but destroy all of it.  Every last trace.›

He nodded and started to work.  I went back to the others.  ‹Give me your Shredder.›  Aloth obeyed without question, though he was cautious and curious.

‹Why?  What are you doing?› Gonrod demanded, a temble in his thought-speak.

‹I am aborting your mission,› I said as I fired at a containment area.  They both gave a yell.

‹You fool!  You’re destroying the ship!›

I ignored him.  ‹Your mission isn’t approved by the High Command.› Well, officially, I added to myself, as another containment field went.  One more.  ‹Your mission isn’t to assassinate Visser Three.›  A small explosion.  ‹Your mission is to deliver a virus to destroy the Humans with a virus.›

‹Impossible!›

‹A quantum virus!  It would never be allowed!›

I looked at them with pity.  They truly were patsies.  ‹Take it up with your Intelligence Advisor and your _aristh_ , who never attended the Academy.  Are you finished?›

Mr. King nodded.

I handed back the Shredder.  ‹The rest of your crew should be here in fifteen Earth minutes.  Take care.›

 ****

I should stop meeting other Andalites, at least on Earth.  They all inevitably end up shouting at me. 

Arbat made grandiose threats, spoke of ruining my career.  I said I was doing that just fine without his help. 

‹It was designed to attack the Yeerks!› he had yelled.  He hadn’t dared to attack.  The children were around, somewhere, and I had made a very obvious (to humans) lie by saying that there were flying purple people eaters around that were becoming open to other colors and species.  The humans had all broken into snorting laughter that Aximili hadn’t understood.  Tobias promised to explain it to him later.

‹Does that make it any better?› I countered.  ‹There are Yeerks opposed to forcing enslavement.  It doesn’t warrant genocide.›

‹Genocide?  It is one planet!›

‹A test planet,› I said coldly.  ‹Have you learned nothing from the Hork-Bajir failure, your own brother’s failure?  Biological weapons are not the answer.›

He said that it was the answer, that I hadn’t been on the home world, seen what was happening.  I hadn’t witnessed the number of brilliant minds conscripted into the war, the impact it was having to our home with so many losses.

It pained me to hear him speak this way.  And it was true; the pain and passion in his thoughts spoke that.  I closed my eyes for a moment and said, ‹‘If we fight a war and win it with H-bombs, what history will remember is not the ideals we were fighting for but the methods we used to accomplish them. These methods will be compared to the warfare of Genghis Khan who ruthlessly killed every last inhabitant of Persia.’› My eyes opened.  ‹A human said that, Hans Albrecht Bethe. It is a crude analogy, but it says enough. Andalites cannot lose what we are in this war, Arbat-Elivat-Estoni.  And ultimately, all Andalites are fools.›

‹We can end this war, you fool!› Arbat screamed, perhaps proving my last statement.

‹Your brother thought the same on the Hork-Bajir planet.  He was just as wrong.›

‹He made the right choice, the choice the others were too weak to make!›

‹Perhaps,› I allowed.  ‹It was a lesson he tried to teach me as well, to kill your enemy any way you can.  And I do.  But not that way.  Leave Earth, Arbat.  And take your crew with you.  Tell the High Command of my disobeying of their orders that they never gave.›

He had no choice but to leave.  His lab was destroyed, and his little _aristh_ couldn’t redeem any of the information.  Mr. King had been thorough. 

‹The death of our people will be on your tail, Elfangor,› Arbat said softly.

I laughed, which certainly surprised him.  If he only knew how many deaths were already on my tail.  ‹Travel well.›

 ****

Coming back from a late feed which had done little to clear my head or fill my body, I nearly jumped when I heard her voice.  “How can you sleep at night?”

Heart racing, I looked into the shadows of the porch.  Matilda was hunched in a corner, Champ at her side.  Had she been waiting for me?  “I usually close most of my eyes and let my mind become very relaxed.”

She gave a laugh, but it wasn’t much of one, and I was concerned.

“What is wrong?”

She was quiet, and drawing closer I could see she was in her pajamas and had a blanket wrapped around her.  I knelt down in front of her, and in the dark I could hear Champ’s tail thumping at my arrival.  He wetted my hand with his nose and tongue, and I rubbed it on my shorts out of habit.   She still didn’t answer me, and I thought she might be crying.

I licked my lips and, after a very long pause, asked, “Loren, tell me what is wrong, please.”

“I just can’t sleep,” she whispered.  “Not tonight.  Not after …”  She trailed off.

There was no need to ask why.  Some missions … some were the inspiration of nightmares, the seeds of insanity.  The one today had been almost tramautizing, even for me.  There had been too many human-Controllers, young ones, and we fought for our survival.  Afterwards, everyone had been quiet, and if I heard several of my warriors be sick once they were themselves and out of sight, I made no comment. 

I crawled closer to her, pulled alongside her and timidly set my hand on her shoulder.  There was a small flinch, but then she leaned against me without much warning, sniffing louder, and I wrapped my arm around her in a comforting hold.

“Sometimes, I run,” I whispered, answering her question in a more serious manner, “until I cannot think anymore.  And I do not … I do not think when I fight.  Just react.  I have trained myself not to see details.”  It was not necessary to admit that just because I did not see the details, it did not mean I did not _see_ the _details_.

She rubbed her damp chin against my skin.  “I hate this.  I had to hug Cassie and tell her everything was going to be all right, tell all of them, and I don’t even know.  They’re just kids, even Ax, and they’re looking at me to say they’ll be okay, how to get through all of this and how to sleep.   God, I nearly had to tuck Tobias in.  And I can’t even tell it to myself.”

“That is why you have me,” I reminded, trying to get a smile.

“And who do you have?”

“I have what every Prince has – those under him to care for.”  She poked me in the side, not liking my answer, and a noise escaped me.

“Can’t you ever be honest?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

I smiled.  If she could spar with me, she would be okay.  In time.  I looked down at the shadowed figure on her in my arms, thinking.  “Princes care for themselves.  Some are better than others, I’ll admit, and each has their own way that works for them.”

“And what do you do?” she asked softly.

“I imagine a scale.  On one side, there is everyone who has ever mattered to me, whom I fight to protect.  My friends, my friends, the children, my brother, yourself.  Even Champ.”  The dog’s tail thumped again at the sound of his name.  “And on the other side, those who I’ve killed, who I’ve fought.  Balancing it out.  And I can see that, no matter how many I fight and kill, the side that I care about always outweighs my atrocities.  Always.”

“And that helps you sleep?”

“Yes.  Perhaps it should not, perhaps it makes me a poor being, but it is what I do.  I only fear that one day,” I sighed, trailing off.  “One day, the scale will tip the other way.  It will mean I will sacrifice everyone I hold dear, and for what?”

“Your sanity.”

I gave a small laugh.  “I have not had that in many years.  I find, at times, I do not even miss it.”

She giggled.

“Come.  Warm milk will help you sleep, and if not that, perhaps NyQuil.”

“The sleep of the medicated.”

“It is not a good method,” I admitted, standing to pull her up, “but it is one just the same.  Some Princes have turned to that way as well.”

“Have you, ever?”

“Very rarely.  They tend to make me feel worse in the morning.”

We entered the house and, after I set her down at the table, I warmed the milk for us.  We drank it in the dim kitchen light without any words between us.  And then I smiled at her face until she gave me a look and demanded, “What?”

“You’ve got a milk mustache.”  With a thought, I wiped the residue from her lip and licked the liquid from my thumb before standing and placing the glasses in the sink for tomorrow.  When I turned around, she was looking at me, cheeks red from the warm drink, and I held my hand out.  “Come.  It’s time for bed.”

Staring up at me and taking my hand, she quipped in a strange voice, “Going to tuck me in?”

Amused at the tease, I added, “If necessary, I will even tell you a story.”

“Promise?”

I tilted my head, a touch confused because of the tone.  “Probably not.  You are one of those humans where telling a story just makes you stay up even longer.”

I was please at her laugh and agreement, and once upstairs, we parted at our separate doors with proper good-nights.  I hoped she managed to find the elusive sleep.

And I hoped I would too.

 ****

“This is the most wonderful time of the year,” I pronounced, setting down two grocery bags on the table.

“You’re two months early,” Matilda turned and countered.  In her hand, a soapy dish dripped and made a puddle on the floor.  “And what did you get?”

In a fluid motion, I upended one of the bags, and a cascade of bags of mini candy bars slipped out.

“You bought Halloween candy!  You were supposed to buy actual food.”

“I did.  That’s still in the car.”  Chocolate had the problem of melting quickly in heat, so it was very important to get it inside.

She left the sink and looked at the pile, and then inside the other bag.  “You bought,” she said slowly, “two grocery bags filled to the brim of _candy bars_.”

“They were on _sale_.  If I bought ten of them, it averaged into getting one for free.”

“Oh my God.  You’ve gone completely mad and turned into Rachel.”

I laughed at her joke and started to put away the chocolate.  Some would go out in the open, some in the freezer, and then some in hidden spots that Aximili should not be able to find too easily.  “We’re all mad here.  And you should be nice to me, otherwise I will not share any of my candies.”

“Could you at least lie and tell me you got a few of those for the trick-or-treaters?” she asked, looking up at me while I tucked a few bags behind the molding on the cupboards.

“I could, yes.”

“But you really didn’t, did you?”

“I believe I shall plead the human fifth.”

“Andalites,” she sighed, sticking her hands back in the dish water.

I jumped down from the chair and finished hiding the majority of the candies before I brought in the rest of the groceries.  These bags at least had foods humans would consider healthier. 

Almost all of the groceries had been put away before Matilda spoke again.  “I have a question for you.  _Why_ don’t you have a dishwasher?”

“I do.  I have you.  Or if not that, one of the children.”

She splashed water on me, not a little, and the front of my shirt was damp.  “Ha ha.  Seriously, you have every other stupid kitchen thing, but _not_ a dishwasher?  They use less water.”

“The house did not come with one, and I saw no need to get one.”  There was no reason to admit I did not know they existed.

“Well, _I_ can think of a few.  Like twenty, which is the usual number of dishes you use when you cook.  So you’re getting one.”

“No, I’m not.  Where would I put it?” I asked before she could protest.

“You’re the genius.  You figure it out.”

I pretended to think as I looked over the kitchen, and then said, “I’ve got it.  It can stay in the store.  We don’t need one.”

“Not funny,” Matilda scolded.

“You do not have to do the dishes,” I allowed.  “I do not mind doing them. Or one of the children.”

“Yes, and do you know that turns into?” she countered, hands on her hips.  “It turns into every time I ask Tobias or one of the kids to do something.  ‘Oh, I’ll do it, Loren.  In just a minute.’  ‘Sure, no problem, Mom.’  And then two days later, I’m doing it.”

For a moment, I nearly suggested that she either be firmer in her orders or to simply avoid asking them to do things she knew they wouldn’t do.  “You are not saying I’m as irresponsible as them, are you?  I do the dishes.”

“When I don’t.”

“You cannot blame me if you are so bored you do them before I do,” I said.

She scoffed at my naivete.  “I can blame you for anything.  You are going to give some of that candy to trick-or-treaters, aren’t you?”

“I think I could risk the trick.”

“You say that now, but when they egg your car …” She trailed off meaningfully, hands back in the dish water and smirking.

After a dramatic sigh, I agreed, “Then I suppose I must feed the little beggars.”  Stepping next to her, I took up a dish towel and started drying and putting away the cleaned dishes.

“Are you going to take Ax?  Trick-or-treating,” Matilda explained at my look.

I shook my head.  “He is too old.”

She bumped her shoulder against mine, possibly scolding.  “You’re never too old to beg for candy.”

“Do you _want_ to let my brother free with permission to mug people for candy?” I replied, dryly.  “And he is too old.  It isn’t done, no matter how much he would like it.”  Or how much I would like to take part as well.

Matilda laughed after a moment of silence.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?  Elfangor, Marco and Jake and Tobias are going out, I already know it.  With _pillowcases_.”

For a moment, I wondered if she was telling the truth, but she would not lie about that.  Would she?  I was confused.  “I thought … isn’t this activity for children?”

“You call them children,” she grinned.

“I thought there were age limits,” I corrected.  _I_ certainly had never been allowed to go door-to-door, and I was pretty sure that, when I had been a _nothlit_ , if I could have gotten away with it, I would have.  “Is such a thing proper?”

She shrugged.  “It might get a few scowls, but if they do it right and can get away with it, who knows?  And you do know that if you tell Ax he’s too old, one of those boys will just suggest he get a younger morph.”  Her eyes widened at a thought.  “Just imagine if all of them became little five-year-olds.”

“No.”

“You’ve seen them with a sugar rush now,” she continued, her voice lowered as if telling a scary story, “imagine them filled with sugar then.”

“No.”

“We’d be killed.”

“Yes.  Yes, we would.”

Her giggles overcame her, and I chuckled from the contagious mirth.  “And you know, if they go trick-or-treating, we would have to inspect the candy to make sure it’s safe.  No poison or razor blades.”

Understanding the train of thought, I grinned as well.  “It is my responsibility to make sure they are safe in all avenues.  As Commanding Prince.”

“It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it, huh?” she replied in the same tone I had used.

“The trials one must face.”

“I’ll make sure we’re stocked up on Tums and other tummy-ache meds.”

“Very wise.”

She laughed again and handed me the last dish to dry.  “Will you share your candy with me?”

“Of course not.  If I share, you’ll steal some from me.  Why should I give you permission to have an even greater helping?”

Matilda shook her head at me, though I could see she was amused at my comment. “We should do something for Halloween.  Make a haunted house or something.”

I didn’t understand the logic.  “Why?”

“Just because.”

It was a remarkably human answer.  “I would rather not.  Haunted houses imply others unrelated to us may enter.  It is too much of a risk.  And is it not enough that I will be feeding begging humans my stash of candy?”

“Of course not.  You’re too greedy.  I have to fix that.”

“Fix that?” I repeated, closing the cupboard door once the last dish was put away.  “I need fixing?”

“Loads.”  Her tone was such that I didn’t know if she was serious or not.  “But flaws make you human.”  After she said that, Matilda paused and appeared to think about her words.  “Or Andalite.  Whatever.”

“Yes.  Whichever.”

There was still a small pile of candy that would be put in candy jars around the house, and Matilda looked at them.  “So I can expect chocolate binges for the other big candy holidays, right?  Easter, Christmas, Valentine’s Day?”

“If there is a candy sale.”

“Buying ten to get one free is not really a sale, Elfangor.  It’s just an excuse.”

I shrugged and opened a bag of Almond joys to nibble on one.  “As long as it is a good one.”

She laughed and took the bag from me.  “It really isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.  You just can’t see the beauty in it.”

“There’s got to be something we can do for Halloween,” she said, returning to her previous topic and stealing two bags of candy as she went into the living room.  I quickly dumped the remaining bags into a large bowl and set it in the center of the table before rushing after her.  While I did not doubt she would fill the dish out there, it was always possible she could hide one where I would not be ablet to find it (without morphing), doing it just because she knew it would annoy me.  Such things gave her a sort of amusement.

I needn’t worried – or I had been too slow – because it seemed she had merely filled the two dishes before sitting on the couch and munching on a candy bar as she looked around the room.  “There’s got to be something we can do.”

“Do?” I parroted.

“For Halloween,” she glared at me, at my perfectly reasonable question to what she was talking about.  Human minds flitted from topic to topic, after all, and I was not psychic enough to tell what her mind was currently on.

“Why must we do something?” I asked reasonably.

“We just do.”

“Well … surely there are movies and TV specials to the holiday.”  I seemed to recall there being something about a Great Pumpkin, possibly a terror film.  Humans like movies that make them scream.

I was right in my assessment, because Matilda’s eyes lit up.  “A scary movie marathon?”

“It is merely an idea.”

“We could tell ghost stories or something, maybe.”  The idea seemed to please her, but I noticed her mood quickly shifted away.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

I waited.  It was very unlikely to was really “nothing.”

It wasn’t a very long wait.  “It’s just … sometimes it’d be nice it they were older.  Because really, telling ghost stories with them, it’s just a little … pathetic.”  She gave a small laugh.  “Even worse is that I’m probably getting excited about it, even still.”

“There are other things to do,” I offered.  “And the children will probably have other plans.  They may not even want to do anything with you.”

“Ouch.  Thanks, Elfangor, for being completely honest and blunt.”

“I’m sorry?”

She sighed, slumping down.  “Well, at least I have candy.”

“My candy.”  I felt it was an important point to make.

“It tastes better when it is yours.”

I shook my head at her comment and tried to think of something that could possibly lift her mood.  “If you would like, you could go trick-or-treating with Aximili and the other children.  That would be fun, would it not?”

“That’s for kids.”

“So acquire a young human,” I shrugged, though wondering why it had been okay for her to suggest I go with them.

“Elfangor!”

I was not repentant.  “Theoretically, you do not even need a young human.  Talented _estreens_ can change the ages of their morphs, though even the best can only remove a few years.  But the scientists believe nearly any age is achievable with the right methods.”

“What methods?”

“I do not know.  I have not studied them.  My morph is merely the natural age of the DNA I acquired.  The forms we have do age, some at different rates for reasons I cannot recall, but they are not prone to the many of the weaknesses the age would normally bring.”

“Huh.”  She looked at me, narrowing her eyes.  “Who did you acquire?”

“I acquired several humans to make this form, of course.  There was an old woman, several campers, some blood sample donors I am not aware of, a few others.”

“Who did you acquire first?  And don’t tell me you can’t remember the first human you ever acquired.”

I smiled at her.  “I would not.  The first human I acquired was a small child who had gotten lost in the forest.  I acquired her and carried her near the search parties.”

“Really?  And she didn’t tell all about you?”

A small laugh escaped.  “Yes, but she was very young and thought I was a horsie.  A strange one, yes, but I believe she thought I was like cartoon centaur.  And my acquiring her made her sleepy.  She had been lost for a very long time.”

“You tried to find her, didn’t you?”

I was surprised at the question, at how exact it was to the truth.  At that time, I could not but have known there was a lost human in the woods, with all the commications and humans about calling her name.  Emily, I believe it had been.   She had been lost over two days when I had found her, hungry and messy and sick, and I gave her a helping of berries I had carried with me.  The human hadn’t been scared of me, and I spoke as one should to little ones, before I let her get on my back and brought her back to civilization.  I did not even scold her when she kicked me sharply in the sides, and when she gave me a kiss and hug, I acquired her.  Once in her daze, I pushed the child out to the humans and stayed only long enough to make sure all would be well.  “I _did_ find her.”

“You saved her life.”

I wouldn’t go that far.  “I merely shortened her ordeal.  I am confident they would have found her, eventually.”

Matilda looked at me for a second longer.  “If _you_ go acquire a kid, I’ll take you trick-or-treating.”

“I cannot do that.”  However tempting it would be.

“You just told me to!”

“That’s different.”

She crossed her arms and looked up at me.  “I don’t see how.”

“It merely is.”

“Chicken.”

I smiled.  “I have not acquired one yet.”

“It could be our secret.  I won’t tell the kids, and I know you won’t.  Come it, it’ll be fun.  You’ll be adorable, I know it.”

“No.”  I latched onto another topic, because I very well might fold on this one.  “If you wish, perhaps Aximili or I could tell an Andalite tale.  There won’t be any axe murderers –”

“How about tail ones?”

I gave her a look.  “Very funny.  I’m sure Aximili will know better ones.  The younger always do.”

“No, they don’t.  Don’t try to weasel out of it.  Everyone knows the same stories get repeated, just with little fixes to keep them current.”  She leaned forward and looked at me.  “And what’s an Andalite’s idea of a scary story?”

“Something scary, I’d imagine.”

“Yeah, right.  It’ll probably be something really dumb.  Like, _Oh my god, my tail is getting dull!_ ”

“I was only offering.  Otherwise, Halloween is only around to gourge on candy.  You could do that.”

“Yeah, gain ten pounds.  There’s a fun time.”

I grinned at her understanding.  “Exactly!”

 ****

_‹I don’t believe I have ever heard that story, Aximili,› I smiled, lying only a bit to my little brother.  It would not have helped our relationship if I shot down his attempts at bonding, however childish they were, and I hadn’t ever heard that_ particular _version before.  ‹Thank you for telling me.›_

_Aximili looked up at me with eager eyes – all four of them, which showed how much he was interested in me, even if he pretended indifference  — pleased at my words.  He was so very young and small.  Clever though, and it made me proud to call him my brother. (Part of me pitied my collegues when I returned from my leave, for I would have a multitude of tales about my little sibling to share.  Perhaps I should warn my fellow warriors had best not get trapped in any rooms with me.)  ‹Has that ever happened to you, Elfangor?›_

_I did not laugh, despite how very much the urge hit me.  ‹I have never done battle with any sort of_ Wyna _.›_

_He was a bit disappointed but rallied quickly, ‹It was a very scary story, though, wasn’t it?›_

_‹Terrifying.  You told it very well.›_

_His eyestalks moved with his assent, and his face was bright with pride.  ‹Ultaquin said so too.›  A pause, and then it occurred to him to continue the conversation.  ‹Do_ you _know any scary stories?›  There was a bit of doubt in his tone, as if Aximili believed my age made it very unlikely.  Perhaps he did._

_I knew several, and most of them were from real life, but I would not share any of those with my young little brother.  ‹I know a few tales, but I doubt they would be as scary as any you could tell.›  Inwardly, I was grinning.  As an elder brother, I had a sacred duty to terrify him.  Within reason, of course._

_‹That is okay.›  I could tell he was delighting at the chance to be better than me at something.  Not used to sharing Mother and Father’s attention, Aximili was desperate in showing his accomplishments for some sort of approval, to get his share. I did not mean to usurp his position, and our parents did not mean to ignore him in favor of myself, but it was the way it became.  ‹You could still tell it.  I can pretend to be scared.›_

_Forcing myself not to give a hint of mockery, I said, ‹That would be very kind of you.  Perhaps I could think of a tale.  Have you heard of –›_

“ –the Sacrificed Woods,” Aximili said, picking melted marshmellows from his fingers and lips.  He had yet mastered eating a s’more without causing a huge mess. 

“Andalite ghost story, please,” Marco mocked, falling back in his seat.

“Anything would be better than yours about the cabby with a hook,” Rachel shuddered.  “Lame!”

Aximili scowled at them.  “It is a very scary story.  Elfangor told it to me on one of his leaves, and I had never heard it before.  And many of my friends also did not know it.”

“Who told you it?” Cassie asked.

I could not remember.  “It was merely a tale I heard in my youth.  Perhaps I had been at the Academy.  I only remember being scolded afterwards for telling it to Aximili.”  I notice my brother’s cheeks reddening.

“It’s that scary?” Jake asked.

“I did not think so, but I forgot that young ones have very vivid imaginations.”

Aximili interrupted, “It _is_ a very scary story.  All my friends said so, and they said my redition of it was very frightening.”

“Tell it to us, then.  This I got to hear,” Marco challenged.

“I cannot tell it as well as Elfangor,” Aximili said with a false modesty, and I did not miss his coy, mischievious look.  Scowling, I recalled that it was a little brother’s goal to make his elder’s miserable in all ways possible.

There were several expectant gazes, and I focused on blowing out the flame on my marshmallow.  A charred marshmallow oddly enough sometimes tasted better than one only lightly toasted.

“So, are you going to tell it?” Tobias asked.

“Humans would not find it scary.  There is too much cultural heritage that one would have to explain, and the tale would suffer.”

Matilda coughed, but I detected the word, “Chicken,” that was not hidden as well as she thought.

“Marco didn’t set the bar too high on the scary story,” Rachel dismissed.

“Hey, that’s a classic!  You people just can’t appreciate it.”

“Didn’t help that you can’t tell it,” Jake countered and ducked when Marco wasted a good marshmallow to use it as a weapon.  They fought for a little until Matilda told them to settle down.

“I’d like to hear the story,” Cassie said.  “I think it sounds interesting.  The Sacrified Woods.  What’s it about?”

“Screaming,” I said, deadpan.  It was an honest answer, more or less.

It wasn’t long until the children started complaining and badgering for a tale they would not be interested in.  To admit, I was reluctant to tell them the tale because part of me did not want the risk of mockery to my culture.  I knew they would be polite to do it outside of my presense, but it would still happen.  Perhaps it was a double-standard – I rarely held my thoughts when I criticized Earth culture, but I did not want it of my own, not for something so trivial.  It wouldn’t have been like commenting on Andalite attitudes, but … almost a history, a way of life.  The story was scary because … because it was a terrifying sentence to an Andalite.  Mocking it would be mocking Andalites, not as a people, but as a species. 

But children, like in any species, can be very annoying when they don’t get their way.  And the only way to silence them, to get any peace whatsoever, was to just give in.

_‹You must tell me if it does get too scary,› I said to Aximili, who waved his stalks impatiently.  I knew there was no way he was going to admit if the story became scary, but it was something that had to be said.  It made the challenge, the one that said,_ You’re not going to, because you don’t want to admit it’s scary and be seen as a coward. _The talk of siblings everywhere, no matter what the age difference._

_Aximili, growing antsy from the wait, hurried me along.  ‹I promise, Brother.  But I’ll still pretend to be scared,› he added as an afterthought._

_‹I do appreciate it.›  I closed my main eyes, preparing for a good start.  ‹Has Father showed you your guide tree, yet?›_

_He huffed at me, impatience becoming more evident.  ‹Yes.  Ycul  Ised.  Elfangor, you promised to tell me the story!›_

_‹Yes, yes, I am getting there.  You are so impatient.›_

_Momentarily contrite, Aximili rallied quickly.  ‹Do you actually_ know _the story?›_

_I gave him a mock-glare, which he might have taken seriously, because his stance lowered.  I smiled to show I was not angry at his accusation.  ‹Yes, I do.  But sometimes one must lay a little groundwork before he can forge ahead.  Do you understand that?›_

_Aximili said he did, but it was obvious he really did not.  He was too young to see how sage my advice was, too busy stamping his back hoof to channel his annoyance.  Most likely he thought I could not see the action_

_‹Do you like to talk with Ycul Ised?›_

_‹Yes.  But she doesn’t really talk to me, but I talk to her.  It takes a really, really,_ really _long time for her to say anything.›_

_‹My guide tree, Hala Fala, told me this story.  It took many sittings.›  Aximili grinned at my tone.  (Hala Fala, of course, never told me such a story, and if he could have, I wouldn’t have had the patience to sit through the slow telling, but the close relation would add the terror.)_

_‹It is a very old story, when Andalites still only lived by hoof and tail, when monsters were in the woods, monsters whose backs were so hard no Andalite tail could ever break through, whose speed was faster than any.›_

_His eyes were wide at the mention of the monsters, creatures scientists called Cannitus, but everyone knew them as monsters.  Every child feared them, the ingrained memory of creatures that no longer existed but who used to feast of Andalites with an insatiable appetite.  I used to imagine horrible over-active visions of them, seeing them in the shadows when the suns left the sky and the moons cast more shadows than light.  ‹Even you?›_

_‹I believe so.  It is good, then, they are none around,› I consoled. And then I added, ‹So we believe.›_

_Aximili’s eyes darted around, as if one of the monsters would appear, and I felt a little guilty for teasing him.  ‹Does your story have the monsters in it?›_

_‹No, no.  They are too scary for me.  So I fear my story will not be very scary, and I apologize.›_

_‹That’s okay,› Aximili said quickly.  ‹I do not mind.›_

_‹Then, once upon a time -- ›_

_‹What?› Aximili interrupted.  ‹What does that mean?›_

_Part of me winced at the use of a common Earth story start, one no Andalite would ever use and Aximili had no understanding of, but I had used it without thinking.  ‹It is just a start.  It means it took place a long time ago.  Once upon a time.›_

_‹Oh.›  Aximili looked like he was filing the expression, possibly for his own use, and I wondered if I had inadvertenly polluted Andalite narrative history with Earth vernacular.  Did it even matter?  ‹I understand.›_

_‹It is okay.  Once upon a time, there was an Leader and his herd.  It was a time of little rain and poor grass and they were constantly moving, looking for a field to call their own, where there was fresh grass and no monsters.›_

_‹You said there weren’t going to be any monsters!›_

_‹Do you I want to hear the story or not?›_

_He was contrite.  ‹Yes.  I am sorry.  But you said …›_

_‹There are no monsters,› I promised again.  ‹Now, they had been wandering for a very, very long time, through many dangerous places and times.›  That had involved the monsters, in the truest and longest verison, but Aximili was too young for the whole tale, and too impatient.  I did not need him to fall asleep on me.  ‹They were very weary and very forlorn when the finally came to the woods._

_‹They were a beautiful woods, ancient.  The trees sang in the breeze and the grasses curved to their shadows in the most appealing of ways.›  I sent my imagining to him, the sheer beauty I could conjure.  There never could be a forest of such perfection, how the light would flicker and the grasses dancing in the wind and the growth patterns of the most perfect sort.  Aximili visibily was in awe of such a sight.  No doubt he thought it was real.  If only it could be._

_‹Everyone in the herd was very tired, but very glad to be there.  Finally, here there was healthy grasses, there was food for them to eat and regain their strength.  But it was not for long.  The meadow there was too small for all of them, the extended family, and they knew they would have to again leave, set off again for the dangers outside this little haven.  They were all very sad, but it was the way it was to be.›_

_So young and impressionable, my brother channeled the sadness meant in the story._

_‹They were preparing to leave their meadow when the trees spoke.  They knew they must speak quickly, to be heard before the herd had to leave._

_‹“Wwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaittt,” they called, tones on the wind, echoing,› I whispered, sending the eery call.  ‹“Wwwaaiitt.”_

_‹The herd did not know who had spoken, not until they realized it was the trees.  They were very surprised and scared, for trees, as you know, don’t speak in such way.  The leader of the herd approached one of the trees and asked, “Did you wish to speak with us?”_

_‹The trees did.  They did not wish the herd to leave, to back into the dangers.  They wanted them to remain safe and in their meadows.  They had liked watching them, listening to them._

_‹But the Leader said, “We cannot stay.  There is not enough space and food for us.  If we stay, we will die.  We must leave.”_

_‹The trees understood, and they had an idea.  A terrible one.›  I leaned down to closer to my brother and whispered to him, ‹“If we were not here, there would be room.”›_

_Aximili gasped and hopped around.  ‹What do they mean, Elfangor?  What do they mean?›  He was horrified at the idea, hoped I meant something different.  But I did not, and that was the point of story.  ‹They don’t mean …›_

_‹I’m afraid so,› I said kindly, because I did not want to scare him too much.  ‹Everyone in the herd recoiled and protested.  Over one hundred trees, willing to sacrifice themselves for their safety.  They would leave, their suffering was not worth their death.  But the trees persisted, and in their feelings, their leaves started to fall, their bark to crinkle in their pain and suffering.  They would leave their ground one way or another.›_

_A human child would have been crying.  While Aximili could not cry, the emotion was the same._

_‹And so they decided, to stop the trees for their suffering.  And with each swipe of their tail, the screams came.  Wailing, piercing screams that dug right into the center of each Andalite.  The saps of the trees covered their blades, seeping out of the trunks, and the screams carried on the air.  And the crashing as the trees fell, one by one.  And the screams, echoing in the mind, dimmed down one by one.  Until there was nothing, but the corpses of the fallen trees.  They burned the forms, and the smoke billowed and fire was hot, returning the hearts to the world.  The meadow grew wider and healthy, plentiful._

_‹And yet,› I continued quietly, ‹there were still the screams, still screaming in the minds of the Andalites, of them all.  Stopping only to start again.  And any Andalite who lives there, still hears the screams, and soon no Andalite could live there.  And if you should ever be running over a meadow and suddenly hear the painful death calls, know that it is there, there that such a thing happened.  There, there, the burial of the woods that sacrified themselves for a herd of Andalites.›_

_Aximili’s eyes were wide on me, and he was trembling._

_Perhaps it was not a good story to have told him, I realized belatedly.  I smiled at him.  ‹Was it scary?›_

_‹N-n-n-no, not at all.›  His stalk eyes looked around us, while his main stayed on me.  ‹Did you ever … it’s not from_ our _fields, is it?›_

_‹No, no, of course not,› I quickly assured.  ‹It is just a story.  I have_ never _heard any screams anywhere, and none here or at any of our friends.›_

_‹Are you sure?›_

_‹Yes, Aximili.  Our fields are very quiet and peaceful.  Do you hear anything?›_

_He was unsure, and I thought his vivid imagination might be providing chilling sounds.  ‹If you don’t … then no.  No.›_

_‹There is nothing.›  I smiled, and tried to think of something else to distract him.  ‹Come, should we return to Father and Mother?  They might think I am kidnapping you so you may help me on my missions.›_

_Aximili perked up.  ‹They would?›_

_‹You never know with parents.  And you would be very helpful, so their fears would not be unfounded,› I said, leading us back._

_He rushed to catch up.  ‹I could be on a Dome ship with you, Elfangor?›_

_‹Of course.  We would fight alongside each other.›_

_‹We’d beat the Yeerks, wouldn’t we?› he chirped happily._

_I smiled, perhaps sadly, at his enthusium and spoke the truth, ‹I believe it very well might take both of us.  Would you care to race?›_

_It seemed at if the tale had left his mind as Aximili rushed ahead and I let it leave my concern.  The young forget quickly._

_… Though, when Mother spoke with me not two hours later, it seemed like they remembered just as quickly._

The humans were quiet around me, staring.  I was not sure about their silence.  No doubt the story was not terrifying to one of Earth culture, even with the emotional projections I did to add to the experience.  After all, there were some things I could not expect them to understand without giving them the knowledge and sights.  Earth trees were silent and unable to speak – or were very shy – so how could they know what a tree’s scream was like, let alone a full woods?

“That was … different,” Matilda said after a full minute of everyone just sitting.

“Elfangor actually cut out much of the tale,” Aximili said.  “It is similar to what he told me when I was little, but when I was older, I learned there was a lot more.”

Rachel demanded, “More?  Like what?!”

“There is an actual att –”

She covered her ears.  “Forget it!  I don’t want to know!”

“Thanks, Cassie, for asking him to tell us that,” Marco said, tone sarcastic.  “As if I didn’t have enough trouble sleeping at night.”

“It was sad,” she whispered.  “They just sacrified themselves like that.”

“It is not unheard of, even now.  Rarely done, of course, because to ask such a thing, or to be responsible for their actions,” I said.

Aximili added, “And it is a great danger to harm a tree. There are rituals and rights to be done, but even then the trauma an Andalite might feel ….”  He trailed off.

The humans looked at each other.  “Well, ummm, thanks for telling us it, Elfangor,” Jake said.

“You’re welcome.”

“You did the screams very well,” Tobias added, for lack of something better to praise, I suppose.

Marco made a comment I couldn’t hear, while Aximili said, “Yes, he does.”

“He probably practiced,” Matilda said.

“I do not practice screaming.”

“He’s right. We’re like the champions of screaming.  For our lives, surprise –”

“For fear, pain, being a coward,” Rachel continued singsong.

“Like I never hear you screaming.”

Jake grinned, “Marco, you know Rachel doesn’t scream.”

Marco gave his friend a look, before a look of understanding dawned on his face.  “Yeah, it’s the Xena yell, right.  Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!”

“What was that?” Cassie laughed.

“I think he was supposed to be imitating Xena’s yell thing, what she does when she flips,” Tobias offered.

“That’s what that was?”

“He tries,” Jake consoled, patting Marco’s shoulder.

“It was spot on, and you know it.”

“No.  This is how she does it,” Rachel said, taking a deep breath and giving off the trill.

“You really are Xena, aren’t you?” Marco demanded, while Rachel sat back primly.

Tobias asked, “Anyone else got another story?”

Marco opened his mouth, but Jake quickly pushed him to the side.  “Someone with an actual scary story!”

Over the children’s noise, I leaned over to my brother.   “Pass me another bag of marshmallows, please.”

Aximili gave an embarrassed look.  “I ate the last one during your tale.  Unfortunately, I forgot they were not like popcorn and one should not eat so many handfuls during entertainment.”

A likely, if improbable excuse, and I barely stopped myself from skewing him with my marshmallow toasting stick.  It was only because he did look slightly ill, understand, and I wondered if it was possible that Aximili may have made it so he would never eat another marshmallow again.

Then I mentally slapped myself at the absurdity.  Aside from being impossible, it was a horrifying sentence to never eat another marshmallow again.

 ****


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 39

There was a sorry sight at my kitchen table.  Mother and son were both bent over a text book, and both shared matching looks of frustration. 

“What are you two looking at?” I asked, though I had my ideas.  Homework created that look on any species.  When the two looked at me, I nearly backed out of the kitchen from the force of their twin glares. 

“Hate you,” Tobias muttered.

Considering it was my intervention that made both my brother and his mother get on his case in doing his homework, I could understand the sentiment.  It did not mean I appreciated it.

His mother shot him a look, but he missed it.  “I don’t see how they expect kids to pass anything.  This is impossible.  Ax even said so, which means you’ll be useless too.”  She pulled the book to herself and said, “We’ll just have to go get one of those cheat books.”

“That is –”

“Finally!  I told you,” Tobias said back. 

“It can’t be that difficult.”  I ducked when Matilda tossed the book at me, and I bent to pick it up.  “It’s just human literature.”

“Page 276.  Translate it.  Now.”

“Fine.”  I sniffed as I turned to the well-worn page.  “Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer.  Prologue.”

“We got that far,” Matilda said, crossing her arms.

“I do not doubt you.”  I smiled, though it was a bit forced at their matching looks.  They were waiting, no _expecting_ my failure, delighting in the promise.  Shadenfreude.  My eyes went back down to the written word and I realized why they were so confident.  However it was written, it was not in the modern English.  I cleared my thought.  “This is very … interesting.”

“What does it say?” Matilda asked in singsong.

Oh, that was easy.  “‘When that Aprilis, with his showers swoot’” – the footnote said that meant _sweet_ – “the drought of March hath pierced to the root, and bathed every vein in such licour, of which virtue engender'd is the flower; when Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath inspired hath in every holt and heath’ –”

“And what does it mean?” Matilda interrupted.

I sniffed.  “I just started.  You can’t expect me to tell you what it means from a few lines.”

“It’s okay if you don’t.  Ax didn’t.  He was actually pretty upset,” Tobias smiled.

Looking back at the written words, I frowned at the idea that my brother could not understand it.  It shouldn’t, I knew.  Alien literature is hard to understand.  One needs to have a stable grounding in the culture it was written by, so as to understand the subtle nuisances.  It is why I did not have a strong understanding in ancient Earth literature; back then, it would have been too hard – not _that_ hard, mind, but it was a challenging time.  Now, I wondered if that was a flaw, but of course, how was I supposed to know I was going to have to help children translate these sorts of things.  “Aximili is young and impatient.  If he couldn’t understand it by the third read, he probably proclaimed it was not worth his time.”

Tobias snickered into his hand, verifying my prophesy, while Matilda glared at me.  “Just admit you can’t understand it either so we can go buy a helpbook without your disapproving glare.”

“Elfangor still would give it,” Tobias put in.

“True, he would, but he couldn’t _say_ anything.”

“Yes, I could,” I muttered, but I knew I wouldn’t.  But I hadn’t given in yet!  “This … translation is just a matter of patience.  You two have none.”

“I have an idea.  How about you read it and then just tell me what happens?” Tobias tried.  “Just enough so I get like a C.  It’s only on the Prologue and the Knight’s Tale.”

“No.”

“Nice try,” his mom smiled.  “We’ve been at that for over an hour. I practically have the first page memorized.”

“If you know what it says, it is a small matter to figure out what it means,” I said practically, skimming over the next few pages.  “There are some travelers.  They’re going to … somewhere.”

“That’s my answer.  ‘There are some travelers.  They’re going somewhere.’  Good summary, Elfangor.”

I shot him a look, flipping through the pages for a better answer.

“They’re going to Canterbury,” Matilda said smugly.   “I got that part.”

Ignoring her, I leaned against the counter and tried to translate, vocalizing the words under my breath.  The translator chip worked better with an audio cue.  (And I certainly wasn’t cheating, relying on it.  One must use whatever resources one has for homework.)

“This was actually a good idea,” I heard Matilda say.  “Even if he can’t figure it out, it’ll be hilarious watching him pretend he can.”

“I can _hear_ you.”

“Elfangor will figure it out,” Tobias supported. 

“Thank you.”

“I mean, if he doesn’t, I’m going to fail the exam.”

“You won’t fail,” I said, almost scolding him for such a thought.  It was bad enough Tobias took a blasé attitude towards his studies – though not to Marco’s extent – and had a dour view of his abilities, but it would not help if he made self-fulfilling prophesies.  Part of me wondered if his scholarship attitude was because of his upbringing or if it mirrored his mother’s – I had always thought Loren not very hard-working; she used spend more time during our study sessions doodling in the margins of her book than actually studying.  Perhaps it was some combination of the two?  It made his current predicament partially my fault.  If I had been present, perhaps Tobias would not have these difficulties.

Perhaps.

It wasn’t pleasant thinking about what could (should) have been, so I forced my mind back to these obscure written words. 

“As much as we like to preserve Elfangor’s ego, I’m going to the store so my son doesn’t fail his exam.”

“You have to give me some time to understand this!” I protested. 

Matilda stood up.  “His exam is this Friday.  I’m not going to risk that by Thursday night, you won’t understand that anymore than you do now.”

“What kind of standard are you setting if you allow him to get a cheat sheet?” I said back.

“It’s not a cheat.  It’s an aid.  And hopefully he’ll be seeing that it’s more important to get help, not let his ego get in the way.”

“Maybe he’ll be seeing that if you can’t get it right away, instead of _trying_ , to just take the easy road.”

“Hey, we’ve been _trying_ for over an hour!”

“One hour!” I scoffed.  “That is hardly any effort.”

“For a high schooler and his mother, yes it is.”

“Hey, I don’t actually care,” Tobias put it.  “I bet Mom’s just buying that so _she_ can understand that story.”

“Don’t make me send you to your room!”

Tobias laughed.  “See?” he said to me.  “It’s driving _her_ nuts.”

“You might not be entirely incorrect.”

Matilda made a sound, pushing past me to get her purse.  “For that, I’m not getting either of you a candy bar!  The things I pu—Ahh! Erek!” she yelled.

“Sorry, Loren.  I did not mean to startle you.”

“You entered without permission.  How very rude,” I scolded, turning to look at him.  Despite my words, I realized something serious was occurring.

“I apologize, Prince Elfangor.  But I have dire news.  The Yeerks have repaired the Helmacron ship and are using it to track the morphing energy.”

 “They are?” I said, trying to work my brain around the fact that the Yeerks were somehow manipulating the Helmacron ship.  Were they using very small tweezers?  No, Elfangor, that would be silly.  A simple connection …

“What?  They could find the blue box, then?” Matilda interrupted. 

“That is their plan,” Erek said.

Tobias stood up.  “We can’t let the Yeerks get it, but if they can track it –”

“Calm down.  I put it in a box to shield the radiation,” I informed them.  “Or at least the majority of it.  I should think whatever escapes would be indistinguishable from regular background radiation.  I did not want to deal with Helmacrons again, after all.”

Erek nodded with approval.  “It would explain why they haven’t been able to get a strong lock except for a few minutes.”

“It could track us when we morph?  That’s what happened before,” Tobias said.  “The Helmacrons knew we could morph.”

“So the Yeerks could hunt us with that ship,” Matilda said, “especially since some of us morph more than others.” She gave me a worried look.

“Aximili!” I blurted.  “You said they did get a lock.”

“They lost it before they could arrive, but yes, they did get one.”

Worry ate at me.  My brother was out there, in danger, and he was not even aware of it.  Perhaps now he was relatively safe, but if the Yeerks got close enough to him, perhaps the ship would be able to pinpoint the morphing energy he emitted.  They would be able to take him.  “We have to find him and warn him.  And the others, of course.”

“I’ll warn them,” Erek volunteered.  Yes, he could move faster than any of us.  He cocked his head to the side and then added, “I believe your brother is in the mall.  One of the Chee think they see him at the food court.”

“You mean they’re not certain?” Tobias asked, trying to contain his humor and disbelief.  No doubt anyone who has once seen my brother in a food court would not fail to recognize him again.

Erek grinned.  “I will warn the others.  Should I tell them anything?”

“We’ll meet at Aximili’s scoop.”  It wouldn’t be wise to meet here.  Too much morphing around this house would arouse suspicion.  “Tell them to come as _safely_ as possible.”  With the _Escafil device_ relatively safe, there was no need to rush.  While Aximili and I were at an uncomfortable level of danger, as a group, we weren’t threatened.  We could calmly think this through.

It would be a novel experience, all in all.

 ****

“What are you doing?”

‹Reading.›

Matilda scoffed.  “I can see that.  Is that Tobias’ book?”

‹Yes.›

“Are you _still_ trying to understand that?” she laughed, sitting on my bed.

I rolled a stalk at her and sniffed.  ‹I understand it perfectly.›  Well, as much as an Andalite can understand human literature, when the footnotes stop being helpful.  I was adding more so Tobias might understand better.

“Right.”  She didn’t believe me, looking over my shoulder.  “You wrote in his book!”

‹Only helpful hints and small summaries.›  That’s what the margins in books were _for_ , after all. 

“In pen!”

‹Pencil fades.›

Matilda kicked me in the side.  “We’re going to have to buy the school a new book, now, and he’s going to get in trouble.  Defacing school property.”

‹Don’t kick me.  Your shoes are pointy.›

“Big baby.  So you really understand it?”

I straightened and gave her a look.  ‹Yes.  It is not difficult if one _tries_ and _perseveres_ , instead of just giving up.›

She kicked me again.  “You should learn when to _drop it_.  And just so you realize, it took you three days, so there!  His exam is in two days.  Your way sucks.”

‹It’s the principle,› I sniffed.  ‹Your way will not help him read it next time.  All one needs is exposure to this language.›

“And a translator chip in our thick skulls,” she added, banging her knuckles on my head.  I ducked away instinctively, disliking the feel of her knuckles on the tender skin by my stalks.  “Don’t tell me _that_ hasn’t been helping you at all.  You even told me you could read different languages because of it.”

‹I can _read_ different languages because my chip received the meanings audibly,› I corrected.  ‹It doesn’t work like that on dead languages.›

“Whatever.”  She spread out on the bed.  “Read me something.”

‹No.  There is no point, since you already understand it.›

She pouted.  “Please?”

‹Why?›

“Because I asked you to.  Nicely.”

‹No you didn’t.›

She batted her eyelashes like I had seen the younger females do to the males when they wished the males to do things.  If I did not agree, it would progress to the sighs and the looks.  Giving in, I sighed and flipped through the pages.  ‹Any preference?›

“Nope.  You pick.”  She rested on her stomach, feet in the air.  Perhaps even with her aid, the tale had not made itself clear, and she did not know an appropriate passage.  Or, more likely, she just wanted to make my life the smallest bit more difficult.

My eyes looked for a passage on the page I had turned to, and I disliked what I read at the top of the page.  It was about the stadium for the battle between the two main characters, and it went into great detail about three temples.  I had not cared for the descriptions of the buildings – human architecture and design was boring to my Andalite sensibilities – and doubted they would spark her interest as well.  But afterwards the main characters each made their plea to a god.  Yes, that was a place to start.  ‹Do tell me if this bores you.›

“I will,” she promised, and I was certain she would.

‹“Faireste of faire, o lady myn, venus, doughter to jove, and spouse of vulcanus, thow gladere of the mount of citheron, for thilke love thow haddest to adoon,  have pitee of my bittre teeris smerte, and taak myn humble preyere at thyn herte.  Allas! I ne have no langage to telle th’ effectes ne the tormentz of myn helle; myn herte may myne harmes nat biwreye; I am so confus that I kan noght seye.”›

Continuing the passage, it was difficult to speak the words in the Middle English they were intended to be.  She was right in one sense: my translator chip had managed to decipher the language – after three days studying this piece, I would have been surprised if it hadn’t! – and now I could easily transfer into other languages.  If I wasn’t careful, I could project the dialogue in the Modern English without meaning to.  I felt such an action would detract from the piece.  Even if she could not understand it, the story had been written in this way.  It should be told in the same manner, in my opinion.  And if it should prove her way was not helpful in the long run, well, that was not _my_ fault, was it?

‹“This is th’ effect and ende of my preyere, yif me my love, thow blisful lady deere,”› I finished the part I wished to recite.  My stalk eyes looked at her face, but I wasn’t sure about her expression.  At the start, there was the confusion, probably because she did not understand _what_ I was saying, but it cleared midway through.  There was almost an absence of expression.  Had she become angry?  No, I didn’t think that was it.

“That’s it?” she asked quietly, meeting my turned eyes.

‹It is all I feel to read aloud.  It was long enough, was it not?›  I turned one of my stalks over to look around the room, having heard a noise.  It was only the computer making its odd little beeps.

“Yeah.”  She smiled.  “You might think I’m lying, but by the end, I almost understood you.”

‹See?  All one needs is exposure.›  I closed the book.  ‹I have finished defacing the book.  You can give it back to Tobias.›

Sitting up, she took it and opened it to my work.  “You just don’t want to face him when he sees what you did to it.  But at least your handwriting is legible for someone with seven fingers.  Though you make your loopy letters funny.” 

‹I do not.›

She shut the book.  “Yes, you do.  But so does Ax, so it’s an Andalite thing, not just you, so it’s okay.”

I wasn’t sure how to take her words, so I said, ‹If Tobias has any questions, I’ll be happy to help him after my run.›

Matilda grinned and pretended to think about it.  “Hmm … slack off or get trapped by you explaining something for three hours?  I wonder which he’ll choose.”

‹It wouldn’t take three hours.  Not unless he had a very difficult question or didn’t understand.›

“I’m sure your notes will be enough, Elfangor.  Thank you.”

I smiled.  ‹You’re welcome.  And I will have to have words with Aximili for giving up so easily.›

“Elfangor,” she scolded.  “It’s not Ax’s job to understand this stuff.”

‹I know.›  I stood and stretched, grinning.  ‹But I want to see his expression.›

“You’re a mean big brother.”

‹I am not,› I said, amused.  ‹I merely am an elder brother.  There is a difference.›

“No, there isn’t.”

‹If I was mean, I’d make him read that.›

Matilda laughed.  “Touché.  Don’t pick on him too much.”

I started to morph so I would be allowed to leave the house.  ‹Sometimes, I think I do not pick on him nearly enough.›

“Elfangor, if you make your brother cry,” Matilda threatened with a laugh, “I’ll kick your butt.”

‹My brother is lucky to have you to defend him.›

“And he doesn’t even know what I have to go through.”  She opened the window for me.  “Behave yourself or no dessert.”

With a flutter, I escaped laughing.

  ****

“Is anybody home?” I called, and I smiled as Champ bounded over to greet me home.  “Aside from you.”  Careful not to give him a concussion from the bags hanging from my wrists, I patted his head.  “Down, down, go lay down.”

He obeyed me after a few seconds.  It was probably because he could smell that there weren’t any treats in the bags for him.  I shook my head at the creature and how he chose to rest right in the largest patch of sunlight, spreading to gain all of the warmth.  It was a talent I wished I had, because lying in sunlight can be vastly underrated. 

I was surprised at the lack of persons in the building.  On a weekend when there was no pressing Yeerk issue, there was a greater chance than naught that one of the children would breeze through for the free food and entertainment.  Aximili tended to migrate over during the hours his shows ran, for, while his television had a decent picture, he enjoyed the larger screen I owed, not to mention easy assess to the refrigerator.  Matilda and Tobias – though he tended to spend the odd night at his uncle’s, possibly to care for his cat – lived here, so their presence was forgone.  Since Matilda’s vehicle had been parked in the driveway and I had been gone less than fourty-five minutes, I expected _some_ sort of companionship.  Aside from Champ.

There was no use to complain about it, so I dumped the bags on the couch, spilling the contents.  There was no food in the pile – I ate the candy bar as I left the store – and nothing edible.  (Shampoo and dish soap should not be ingested, no matter how tempting they smell.)  Soon there were separate piles for the items that would go to different parts of the house.  Among the purchases were several new kitchen utensils and a very large pan, because much cooking was necessary later in the week.   There were conflicting reasons for the feast – some say it is tradition, others say it is to add enjoyment while watching a violent human sport, while many claim it is to build strength so they could do battle at shopping malls.  I am of the opinion that humans need excuses to eat excessive amounts of food when no excuse is ever necessary.

The new kitchen materials were put away, though no doubt they would have to be rearranged at a later date.  If I ever have to buy another house, I must make sure to buy one with a bigger kitchen.  I was running out of places to put things.

I gathered the remaining purchases, which were to go upstairs into the laundry room and bathroom.  Once I put them away, I would go for a run.  Perhaps I would meet with Aximili, otherwise I could run to see how the Hork-Bajir were getting along.  (Of course, I would leave a note so the others knew where I had gone.  I would not have them worry.)  Pleased with the plan and (naively) hopeful that nothing troublesome would come up, I took the steps two at a time.  The laundry soap and those little sheets I’ve been told _must_ be thrown in the dryer with the wet clothes – and they _must_ also be scented mountain mist (though in my opinion they smell nothing like a mountain’s mist), otherwise I have to return back to the store and get the _right_ box – were set on the shelves, and balancing the shampoo bottles, razors, and soaps I entered the bathroom. 

The yelp and accompanying splash startled me into dropping several of the items – though I did not give any startled cry of any sort! – and I blinked at the bathtub.  “What are you doing?  Don’t you know how to knock?” Matilda accused, arms crossed over her chest.

It took me a moment to think of forming words, but I countered, “I live here!  I shouldn’t have to knock!”

I’ll admit, it was not much of a comeback.  With humans and their modesty, a few doors that were shut had to be knocked upon before entering.  Aximili and I had to wear some sort of shorts and a shirt – unless we were to go swimming – especially in front of the females of the group.  Even with Tobias I had to be careful where I walked.  It was a strange dance to do with humans,  and there were starting to be awkward moments where, after the children had spent the night, the males had to have subtle signals to remove the tissue paper from their faces.  I almost bought a few styptic pencils for their use, but I wasn’t sure they would know what one is for or if they would welcome me explaining it. 

“I thought you were going shopping,” she said.

Keeping my eyes on picking up the items, I defended myself.  “I did go shopping.  I bought this stuff.”

“You’re always gone longer when you go shopping.  Did you get everything?” she asked, and I heard her sliding down into the water.

Part of me wondered if this was considered appropriate, considering our … whatever one should call it … but if she did not ask me to leave, I figured she could not feel too uncomfortable.  Straightening, I set the things on the counter and looked at her.  Her arms were still over her chest, but she seemed content.  “Get what?”

Matilda sighed, as if I was being purposefully dense.  “All of the food.  For Thanksgiving.”

“You did not tell me what to get, so I did not.”

“Well, that explains why you were so fast,” I heard her mutter, and then she rubbed her hair.  “You should have gotten something.  The turkey and stuffing or whatever.”

“You were still making the menu!” I protested.  “I did not know if I was supposed to get cranberries in the shape of a can or not, and I do not even know where to get that anyway.”  Jake had told Aximili it was his aunt’s recipe, and my brother was interested in trying the, as he phrased it, “delicacy.”  (Personally, I doubted it would be, meaning no disrespect to Jake’s aunt.)  Matilda had laughed at Aximili’s request and said she’d put it down, but I wasn’t sure if her tone meant she was serious. 

“As if you never bought food that wasn’t on a menu,” she said.  “You could have bought _something_.”

“I did buy some things.”  I do not know why I bothered defending myself.  One of these days I will simply accept that I’ve done wrong when I’ve done nothing wrong.  “And why should I buy everything?  I will have to cook it.”

She sloshed in the water, putting her arm onto the side of the tub and turning so her chin could rest on it.  The movement gave the benefit of modesty, as I suppose I could not see anything I should not be able to. “Don’t be such a baby.” 

“I’m not.”

We stood there for a few moments while she tried to think of an appropriately cutting retort, but Matilda did not seem able and instead asked, “So what are you doing?”

“I was putting away everything.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“I thought you had left.  I planned on running to visit the Hork-Bajir.”

“Tell them hi for me.”

“If you wish.”

She smiled again and stared at me.  And stared at me.  I was wondering if she was trying to think of something else to speak about and was going to ask her, but Matilda finally broke the silence by saying, “Look, it would be a pretty tight fit, but you could hop in if that’s what you want.”

I blinked in surprise.  “What?”

“You’re just _standing_ there.”  Her tone was dry, as if her statement had been perfectly logical.

My face was warming for no explainable reason.  “I thought you had something else to tell me.”

“No.”

“My mistake.”

There was another pause, and she looked at me, eyebrows raised.  That meant something, but I couldn’t remember what, or maybe it meant nothing and I was over-analyzing.  “The invitation’s still open.”

“What? No, no.  I’ll just … leave.  Yes, leave, and let you enjoy your bath.  Alone.”  I turned and nearly hit the door frame, proof that humans had far too few eyes.  I turned back around to get the door, and Matilda was hiding her smile in her forearm.  “I’ll be with the Hork-Bajir.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back around supper.”

“Gotcha.”

“Enjoy your bath.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I shut the door quickly and winced at the noise.  Had I slammed it, or were my ears just over-sensitive?  Stopping myself from apologizing and shaking myself mentally, I rushed down the stairs and out to the woods.  I was already jogging.

A run sounded like a very good idea.

 ****

If the point of Thanksgiving was leftovers, this household failed in all aspects.  If the point was to stuff one’s self so it would be impossible to move, well … we succeeded in that respect.  Very well.  Especially Aximili and me, but the humans managed to hold their own against us. 

“I am very uncomfortable.  I believe I may have to demorph,” my brother pronounced from the chair.  I was lying on the couch, and I did not want to admit I felt the same concern.  I was supposed to be the one with self-control.

“Tell me about it,” Tobias groaned. 

Even Champ shared our misery, or at least pretended to.  (He couldn’t have been fed that many scraps.)  He spread out on his side by the windowseat, tail thumping every few moments, and he raised it when his owner walked in.  She must have finished cleaning the kitchen – storing the small leftovers, putting dirty dishes in the sink, that sort of thing.

Matilda laughed at us.  “Boys are such pigs,” she teased.  “I guess I was an idiot for thinking we’d have _some_ leftovers for the rest of the kids.”

“We have some,” I protested, raising myself up, but it hurt my stomach and I returned to my former position.  “We have Jell-o left.”

“Which I’m surprised at!  There’s always room for Jell-o.”

“No, I do not believe so,” my brother said.  “Unfortunately.  It looked very delicious.”

“Feeling sleepy from all that turkey?” Matilda asked.

“Humans feel sleepy when they imbide large quantities of food,” I dismissed.  “An unfortunate evolutionary trait.”

“Yeah, that’s what it is.”

“I believe I like Thanksgiving better than Halloween,” my brother said.  “Unless there is another human holiday with a large feast?”  He sounded so hopeful.

“We can make one for Christmas,” Matilda promised.

“That would be very pleasing.  Elfagnor, why did we not do this last year?”

I turned my head to give him a look.  His tone was reproachful and scolding, as if I had done a terrible thing by denying him this bit of American-Earth culture.  (Perhaps I had.)  “It was never suggested or forced upon us.”  The last statement was for Matilda, who I blamed much of the current predicament on.  While she had been with us this time last year, it had been at that awkward point when she was still becoming accostumed to everything.  Celebrating Earth holidays had not been a concern for either of us.  As an Andalite, I had little interest in the holidays past the discounts on candy, and she had been used to living alone, probably forgoing the holidays all these years.  It was a depressing realization, because Loren had been very into the holidays.  Before we married, her mother and she had invited me to spend the celebrations with them, even if such a time should focus on family.  They had even taken me to their relatives, which was awkard.  Unused to human customs, I felt out of place with no understanding of what was expected, not to mention surrounded by humans I did not know at all.  If I tended to be quiet and stick close to Loren or, if desperate, her mother, I cannot be blamed, nor can I be blamed for escaping at any chance that presented itself.

_I felt myself become less tense the further away we got from Loren’s uncle’s home, away from the noise and close walls and … and it was just too much.  Desperate for air, I had asked if I could go for a walk.  Loren’s uncle, a man named Joseph, lent me his jacket.  I had tried to say I would not need it, but I was glad he prevailed.  I was not used to such temperatures.  Where I lived now, it did not get so cold, and … and on my homeworld, only rare locations high in the mountains suffered these chills.  An Andalite of my (former) genetics – disposed to short fur and long limbs –  would have been very uncomfortable, and, as a human, I was not much better.  My cheeks were stinging and turning red along with my nose – did that mean I was ill?I did_ not _want to go back to the hospital, at all, and last time I had my face this color I had a fever.  How illogical if my face presented the same symptoms if I was either too hot or too cold!  Human biology was very flawed  – and I had to compact into myself to conserve heat._

_It did not help that Loren seemed to not mind the weather.  She walked next to me, smiling, looking around.  Once I focused past my discomfort, I could appreciate why.  We had left the state to come here, and the different location offered a beautiful environment.  The trees … they were so many different colors, it was like ho … it was very beautiful.  Very beautiful, and I looked around at this wonder.  I had thought Earth trees were all green, but this presented a different view.  If it wasn’t for the cold, I would contemplate living here, for I would gladly live in this world of beautiful trees._

_“It’s it beautiful?” she asked needlessly, as if reading my thoughts._

_“Breath-taking,” I breathed.  “I had thought Earth trees were always green.  This, this is almost like …”  I stopped, because I did not want to remember home –_ former _home – and I did not want Loren to feel guilty.  She had no fault in my decision, and I think talking about what I left behind bothered her.  I did not want her to feel uncomfortable.  And if it had the added benefit that I did not have to remember, it did not hurt me._

_“Why are these trees a different color?  Are they merely not native to your region?”  I hoped perhaps I could transplant one, or take a seed and grow the tree myself.  Perhaps several of them, because while I liked the red ones best – they reminded me of a_ Pollmot _tree – the orange and yellow and multicolored ones were very pleasing as well._

_Loren shrugged.  “I don’t really know.  They change color colors because it gets colder here when winter comes.  The days are shorter and stuff.  But I don’t know why they’re different colors.  They just are.”_

_I was confused at her explanation.  “Do you mean … are the trees not always these colors?”_

_“No.  They’re usually green.  It’s just in fall they turn colors, before they fall off for winter.”_

_“Oh.”  Disappointment welled up in me and I looked at the ground as I walked.  I don’t know why I felt it so strongly, but hearing that they were really just the same green trees that were everywhere on Earth, not some beautiful mirror of Andalites ones … it was stupid.  But I tossed the feeling aside and looked at her, asking, “So they change these colors?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_I thought about it.  “It must have something to do with chlorophyll, I suppose.  Less chlorophyll would lessen the green hue and let the undertones come through.”  The light from Earth’s sun made the chlorophyll evolve in such a way that it absorbed those wavelengths of light best.  Since my – former – home had two suns of different wavelengths, our plants were allowed a wider range of colored hues._

_Loren accepted my explanation. “I guess.  I always liked visiting my aunt and uncle now, just to see the leaves change.”_

_“I like the red leaves best,” I said decidedly, and I saw Loren hide her smile. I think she found amusement when I said what I liked, but I wanted her to know I did like things on Earth, that I was happy._

_“I like them all,” Loren said, “but I think the leaves that have more than one color on them.  When they haven’t completely changed over, you know.”_

_I understood what she meant and looked at the scenery.  We were passing a park, and there were young humans playing, yelling. They kicked the leaves and threw them at each other, chased each other like young Andalites do, having fun. I was so engrossed in looking around that I did not notice Loren was not next to me.  When I turned to look for her, I was very surprised when a shower of leaves fell on my head, her laughter in my ear._

_For a moment, I was confused and hurt.  Why would she have done such a thing? But she was laughing, and Loren would not purposefully injure me, and I remember the children.  It was a game!  And Loren was already bending, tossing more of the fallen foliage at me.  I blocked instinctively and tried to retaliate, but I was ill-prepared.  Loren tossed her head back, laughing, before sprinting into park.  I followed, amused, able to run much better after these months.  When it appeared I would overtake her, she bent and tossed more leaves me.  I imitated her, and it was very fun._

_When we were winded, Loren turned in a circle, arms raised, before falling straight back into a large pile of the leaves.  They crinkled and crackled, burying her in their fluff.  Giggling, she sat up and picked some of the leaves out of her hair.  “That was fun.”_

_“Yes.”  I could feel the bits of leaves on me, stuck in my hair, but I did not bother removing them.  It was_ right _having leaves on one’s self, natural._

_Loren leaned back into the leaves, burying her arms, and said, “Fluff some leaves and relax.”_

_“Very well,” I agreed and leaned back, resting on my elbows and staring up at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds.  A leaf hit my cheek and I brushed it aside, catching it in my fingers.  It was a brilliant red from a maple of some sort.  I was rather embarrassed that I hadn’t learned all the tree varieties, but this was a different area of the country and some of these were the first time he had seen in such large numbers.  No doubt my ignorance would not set me apart with other humans – Loren did not seem to know the subtleties of the trees – but part of who I_ was _had to know.  How could one not know the intricacies of the trees and the plants?_

_I  pushed myself up and studied the leaf, causing it to twist by rubbing my thumb and forefinger.  It was still soft and pliable, not like the leaves they rested in, which crinkled with our every movement._

_Due to my position, even with my eyes focused on the leaf, I could see Loren’s stomach, and I had to draw a quick breath when I realized her could see her skin, that her shirt had ridden up.  I mentally cursed.  This was an aspect of humanity I found unappealing, distracting.  My mind, through no action of my own, tended towards focusing on the female form and such thoughts acted on my body in a most embarrassing fashion.  No wonder there were so many humans, if their thoughts were constantly interrupted by ideas of the opposite sex!_

_The thoughts_ were _acting on my body, and I shifted slightly.  The leaves sounded like explosions in my ears, as if they would draw her attention and Loren would realize with horror how my thoughts were tending.  I gulped, hoping that I was being ridiculous, but I was not sure if humans could read such thoughts.  An Andalite female might have been able to been able to pick them up, especially if I hadn’t kept them as personal as I thought.  But no, she did not seem to suspect, and, as if it gave me permission, my eyes stayed on her skin, and then moved upwards before I could tell myself it was improper._

_Loren was still lying in the leaves, unaware of my gaze, staring up at the sky.  Her hair was interwoven in the multicolored leaves, a breathtaking sight, and her cheeks and nose were red.  As were her lips …_

_She seemed to notice my gaze and looked at me, smiling, before becoming surprised, and her face flushed.  I must have embarrassed her, but I remained staring.  Sometimes I thought she must have been looking at me like I looked at her, but that was probably just my human brain imagining things.  Perhaps._

_I looked at her lips again, wanting to kiss them.  Again.  Like that time when we watched the fireworks and she told me we couldn’t.  I wanted to, though.  Sometimes, there were dreams of her lips, of the feelings, of the unknown_ more _that could follow and always left a mess in the morning.  She was looking at me with her blue, blue eyes and red lips and blond hair, lying there like in the ghost of dreams I’d had … and I was lowering myself._

_And my lips were against her’s, and she wasn’t pushing me away.  We were joined just at the spot, but it felt like it was everywhere, my eyes closing in the pleasure before opening and looking into her’s.  I pulled back a bit, breathing deeply through my nose, thinking I should say something.  What could I say?  “I apologize.  I probably shouldn’t have done that.”_

_Loren blinked, looked at me.  She brought her hand to my temple and started brushing my hair, and I could feel her pulling out leaves, but I didn’t care.  I reveled in the feeling, the tingling sensation that spread through me.  “Maybe,” she whispered.  There was no need to talk loudly, we were so close.  “You probably shouldn’t do it again.”_

_“Yes.”  Her fingers kept stroking my hair, and my hand moved.  It had been to steady myself – I was feeling light-headed – but with an unerring motion, my fingers felt her side’s exposed skin, the same skin that started all of this, and she was so warm and my fingers so cold that I touched her without thinking, wrapped my hand against her side.  Her breath hitched._

_This was natural.  And we were so close.  She had not … perhaps I could … “May I do it again, anyway?”_

_She gave a small, breathless laugh. “I think so.” And then, with her hand still in my hair, she pulled my head down to her again for another, our lips meeting.  I should have been able to tell if they had been together longer, been able to naturally monitor the time, but did time stop?  No, impossible … but then again, since we had first met, Time had done funny things._

_I had to breath deeper, trying to keep my bearings, when we pulled apart again, but I felt myself losing the battle when her lips pressed against my jaw and then cheek.  It felt so different that when she had done it before, and then she kissed me again on the lips.  But it was different.  Her lips were open, her tongue flickered across my lips, and I made a sound without meaning to._

_Had I fallen into a dream?  The sensations … the warmth … she was against me … it was like …_

_It was_ not _a dream, because suddenly there was the sound of “ewwwwws” and young giggles.  Pulling apart, I saw we were surrounded by the young children, most making faces.  It was like being doused in cold water, and my face felt warm with fever and, after meeting her gaze, I quickly pulled away and looked at the ground.  What had I done?  Stupid, stupid, foolish … fool!_

_“We should be getting back,” Loren mumbled.  No doubt she did not want to be with me anymore, after such behavior._

_“Yes.”_

_“You were kissing!” an observant boy exclaimed, causing several of the others to again burst into giggles and calls of, “Ewwww!”_

_“Are you going to get married?” a girl asked._

_I felt even more embarrassed and even my ears were warm.  She would not want me, would not have me.  I was a disgrace, I ruined everything.  I was a coward.  And my actions … she would have nothing to do with me, I was sure._

_Dimly, I hear Loren tell the children to go play, and then she took my hand, called me by my true name.  I was surprised at the actions and looked at her .  “Come on.”  She tugged my arm and I obediently followed, though I focused on the ground, the sky, anywhere but at her.  I flinched both in surprise and shame when I felt her fingers in my hair again._

_“You’ve got to get the leaves out,” she smiled._

_“So do you,” I said automatically, then wished I hadn’t.  I always demanded she do things she said I had to do, unable to stop being so childish._

_She did not call me on it, at least, instead smiling tolerantly.  Perhaps Loren was used to it. “Yeah.”_

_We stood in an awkward silence._

_“I apologize,” I said quickly, before I lost my nerve.  I needed to, because if I had driven her away with my thoughtlessness, I did not … I would have been alone.  “I shouldn’t have … you said before … that is, I’m sorry.”  Except I really wasn’t.  It had been too pleasurable to apologize for, but I would lie about anything to keep her in my life._

_“It’s all right,” Loren said, her voice calm.  “It wasn’t … that is … I’m not sorry you did it.”_

_I straighted and looked at her, surprised. But she had said before … but that was then.  It was okay now?  Was it?  Did that mean … what did it mean?  “Really?”_

_Loren laughed.  “Yes, really.  But … but I think we shouldn’t rush anything.  If you know what I mean.”_

_I didn’t, but I nodded.  “Of course.”_

_She smiled.  Perhaps she recognized I was lying, but Loren didn’t call me on it.   Instead, she took my hand and said, “Let’s get back.”_

_I agreed and privately wondered when we’d get to kiss again.  Especially like we had before the children caught us.  And if it could be soon._

“You know, for something I have to force on you, you really don’t fight it, do you?” Matilda said cheerfully.

“I do battle too much to go looking for it.”

“Chicken.”

“Andalite.”

“Move your legs so I can sit.”

“I was here first,” I replied.  There were plenty of other places to sit, not including the floor, and lying vertical was the only thing that soothed my stomach.

“No, actually, I was.”

“No, I was.  Hence why I am here and you are not.”

She must not have liked my logic, for she purposefully sat on my legs.  I grunted and moved them so she could sit, albeit not comfortably, but at least _my_ legs wouldn’t be falling asleep because of her weight.  I very nearly made that comment, but I recalled a list of things you do not say to Earth females and refrained.

“Weren’t we supposed to have pie?” Aximili asked, as if remembering something very important.  Not that pie isn’t important.

“You could still eat?  You just said you didn’t even have room for Jell-O!” Tobias countered.

My brother’s tone was solemn.  “For pie, yes, I could.  Elfangor made both pumpkin cheesecake _and_ apple.”

“I made the strawberry-banana split ones,” Matilda added.  “I’m hurt you don’t remember them.”

Aximili shot his head at her.  “What are these?”

“Your brother didn’t tell you?”

“They were supposed to be a surprise,” I said, defensive.

Matilda poked her finger into my stomach.  “Is this the kind of surprise where you never tell him and get all the pies to yourself?”

I batted her hand away.  “I’d _stop_ doing that, if I was you.”

“Baby.”

It may have been childish, perhaps it even proved her point, but I shifted my legs so that it was either a small kick or I ended up pressing her into the armrest.  The action did not make her uncomfortable, at least not for long, and she gave me a look but did not say anything. 

“So we do have pie?  Lots of pie?” my brother asked, and I thought his tone was giving me an evil eye.  Did he believe I was withholding pie from him, that I was that kind of brother?  How dare he!  I do not know why I even try to surprise him, if I get this sort of reception.

“Yes, we have pie.  If you actually paid attention to things not on the table, you’d have noticed the covered boxes on the counter,” I replied.

“Be nice.  It’s Thanksgiving.”

Tobias countered, more in jest than anything else.  “I thought this was when everyone was supposed to fight.”

“Only over who gets the drumsticks,” Matilda explained.

“That’s easy,” I said.  “Whomever grabs it the fastest.”

Aximili might have been confused.  “I thought this was merely a celebration of the landing of the settlers on this continent.  Cassie said we had to say what we were thankful of.  I am thankful we do have pie.”

I was going to have to give him permission to eat them soon.  “As am I.”

“You’re supposed to say you’re thankful for things that are more important,” Matilda said with a laugh.  “Not that pie isn’t important.  Like I’m thankful I’m here with my son.”

Though it was impossible, I thought I could hear Tobias blush.  “And I’m thankful you’re here too,” he said, embarrassed and awkward, unused to sharing personal feelings but making the effort.

My brother was willing to take part in the practice.  “I am thankful the Yeerks are not winning this war.  We most likely would not have been able to do this, otherwise.  And am I thankful to have met all of you.”

After returning his words, there was a quiet.  Eyes closed and not smiling as I imagined their various waiting expression, I made no response until I was very savagely poked.  “I am thankful I am not dead.  Yet.”

“If you don’t take this seriously, we can fix that,” Matilda scolded, poking me again. 

“I was serious,” I said, opening an eye.  “Dying tends to put a very big damper on being able to do things I enjoying.  Though sometimes I think the company might be better,” I said, catching her wrist before she could harm me again.

She tried to pull her hand away.  “Assuming St. Peter even lets you through the gate.”

“Stop poking me.”

“Then start behaving.  And sit up so I can have some of the couch.”

“I was here first, and you have some of the couch, right there.  And _don’t_ poke me!”  Humans and their two arms!  She held her other arm outside of my reach and stuck her tongue out.

Tobias laughed.  “You know, I thought Marco and Rachel were childish, but sometimes you guys really outdo them.  Like, by a lot.”

Matilda pulled hard and I released her hand, feeling a little embarrassed for acting so, but it evaporated when she replied primly, “It’s only because Elfangor can only respond when someone acts like his mental equal.”

Pushing myself up, I shot back.  “ _You_ start –”

She interrupted me, standing and breezily saying, “I want some pie.”  And then she left, my brother following her like an eager puppy.

I realized my mouth was open when Tobias gave a laugh, and I snapped it closed.  “Well, she does,” I said after a long pause, but it had to be said, even if it was just to Tobias.

He laughed again, and I realized it sounded like her laugh.  Except different, which was normal.  “Sure she does, Elfangor.”

Was he patronizing me or siding with me?  I wasn’t sure.  Did it even matter?  “Your mother is very exasperating.  Humans are, but she takes it to extremes.”

“I know, but we love her anyway.”

“Which she should be thankful for,” I muttered.  I could hear the cutting of pie in the kitchen, and the smells, muted before because of the covers, wafted in the air.  Despite my stomach’s protests that it could not extend any further, it was all very tempting. 

Tobias must have recognized the internal conflict I was facing.  “If you can’t get up, I can get you a piece.”

“I can manage.  You had best get in there before Aximili finishes the whole lot of them.”

It was the truth and he disappeared.  It took me longer to follow, because bending at the stomach _hurt_.  It was necassary to do a complicated sliding motion to get into a standing position, and I was glad the others had not witnessed my acrobatics – I nearly knock over a lamp, bruising the back of my hand, but I caught it before it crashed – but I got to my feet.  Champ had raised his head to look at me, head cocked in his curious fashion.

“You did not see anything,” I told him, and he dropped his head in agreement.  “Good dog.  When the others go to sleep, I’ll give you some gravy.”  There was no harm in a little bribery, and Champ gave a whine.  Smiling at him, I went into the kitchen.

The scene in the kitchen that greeted me made me shake my head.  It was such a human scene, like one from the old black and white sitcoms, the family sitting in the kitchen, eating dinner, the mother serving food and smiling, the children being children.  Part of it could have felt like home, even if it all was too human.

“Do you want pie or not?” Matilda asked, even as she held out a plate for me with her banana split pie, the whipped cream half off.  If I thought the portion was too small, I allowed the idea that perhaps she thought giving me a small piece would not upset my stomach as much as a large.

“Thank you.”  I took the plate and silverware, but did not sit at the table or immediately start ingesting it.  Instead, I merely poked at it, because my stomach did need time to settle.  Unlike my brother’s morph, apparently my human form had limits.

“It’s not poisoned, you know,” she said, and I looked at her. 

“That’s good to know.  I’m _thankful_ for that.”

She shook her head at me.  “Ass.”

“Andalite.”

“Same thing.  Oh, no offense, Ax.” 

My brother raised his head, mouth and chin covered in pie crumbs.  “I am not offend, Loren.  I know you are not speaking of _me_.”

“That’s right.  You’re well-behaved.”

No, my brother a troublesome little meddler who’d become a turncoat for a tootsie-roll.  But I didn’t say that.  I merely made my gaze state it, though Aximili did not see it, going back to his pie.  Yet I would not doubt he felt it digging into his back. 

Matilda’s pie was good, if a little too heavy on the whipped cream.  Not that that was a bad thing, mind, but it did overwhelm the banana and strawberry slices.  I had to eat slowly, but some things should be savored.  This dessert might not be one of them, but if someone should question why I was not eating like Aximili was, I would say that.  No one would ask, but I could say it.  “Your pie is very good.  No poison or anything.”

For a moment, she looked like she was going to say something, but at the last moment changed her mind.  “Thanks. I found the recipe in a magazine.”

“It is good,” I repeated, stupidly feeling like I had to repeat myself, awkward.  My stomach, filled to the brim, felt worse, and I had to stop eating for a moment.  “I’m … _thankful_ you found it.”

Aximili voiced his agreement, and he added, “I like these Earth holidays.  There should be more of them.”

“Yeah, more days off from school.”

“Christmas is in a month and you get like two weeks off then.  You don’t need more,” his mother said good-naturedly.

“Though keep in mind, the more time off you have, the more time you have to fight Yeerks.  I cannot drag you out of school all the time,” I pointed out.  “School is, in more ways than one, your salvation.”

Tobias shot me a look, one that was a mirror of his mother’s when I said something she didn’t like.  “Great, either way I’m surrounded by Yeerks.” 

“One side does have less chance of death,” Matilda pointed out.

With typical human teenage melodrama, he said, “Death by boredom.”

“Shush.”

I looked at him.  “Yes.  I am very relieved that none of you had died.”  It was a rare accomplishment, if it should be called that, for us to not have lost any of our numbers so long into our fight. After my comment, the seriousness held in the air, and, trying to lighten the mood, I added, “Or died permanently.  Whichever is truer.”

“We have been lucky,” Matilda said quietly, putting a hand on Tobias’ shoulder.  I thought she wanted to do more, but children at his age never want it.

“Thanks to you, Elfangor,” Aximili said.

“No.  You all are great warriors.  My presense or absence would not change that, I am sure.” 

By their expressions, they did not seem to believe me.  I didn’t speak lightly.  Without me, they may have been in a little green and a bit more careless, but together, there was a natural appitude between them.  Of course, without me, they would not be in this fight.  They would have been normal humans.  Aximili may have been on another Dome ship, earning his honors, not stranded on this primitive planet.

“Maybe you’re right.  I mean, you’re not _that_ important,” Matilda said, cutting another piece of pie. 

I blinked at her.  That’s _not_ what I meant, at all.

“But we’re glad you’re here in any case.  Thankful, even.  After all, no one makes a pie like you do,” she continued, smirking.

“That is true.”  After a bite into my own pie, I added, “And certainly not you.”

“You were right, Tobias,” Aximili said when Matilda made a sound.

He looked at Aximili.  “About what?”

“They _are_ worse than Marco and Rachel.”

Matilda sputtered a laugh, covering her mouth to keep crumbs from spraying, while I leveled my gaze at the impertinent _aristh_.  “Just for that, you get dish duty.  All of them.”

The sink and counter had a large pile waiting for the unlucky soul.  My brother looked at it, then back at me trying to figure out if I was being serious.  Normally I did not have – trust – him do the dishes.  “Could I merely have a tail practice?” he finally asked.

“You think it would be easier?” I asked, surprised.

“It would be quicker.”

 ****


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas and New Years, it's a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, up to no books, but I'm assuming past Book 42, The Journey. Just writing. There is a line I stole from Stargate: SG-1, which Ax says near the end when he asks for clarification on something. I love the quote, and it fit perfectly with the tone of the chapters anyway. For those who watched the series, Vala said it during her date/it's-not-a-date with Daniel.
> 
> I also, possibly, took inspiration for an exchange from House, the lines from Cuddy and House. I'm not sure if I could have been original enough to think of it without that show's influence, but I know, unlike Vala's line, I was not actively inserting it for my own twisted amusement.

I didn’t even make it to my garage.  I stepped out of the mustang and stared at the thing that had been placed on my lawn.  What sort of tasteless person –

“Do you like it?” Matilda called from the door, while Champ bounded out to greet me, a new toy in his mouth and desperate to show me.

Well, that answered that.  “No.”

“Shut up and come in, see what I got.”

Glaring at the object from over my shoulder, I went to the house.  Champ squeaked his new toy happily, and then darted away when, annoyed, I made to grab it from him, mostly in play.  He ran around me in a wide circle, over to Matilda, ducking behind her legs and, as if mocking me, squeaking the infernal thing again.

Matilda laughed at us.

“Why did you get that?” I demanded as I went up the steps.

“The toy or the reindeer?”

“Possibly both.”

She made a face.  “Be nice.  And close your eyes so you can really get the surprise.  I’ve been doing this all day while the rest of you guys were conferencing with Toby.  Ah, I said close your eyes.”

“An Andalite never closes all of his eyes,” I said.  “Especially not for surprises.”

“Close them,” she said firmly.

Even as she spoke, I was obeying, because some things weren’t worth the trouble.  I didn’t like having all my eyes shut, even if it was just the two of them in this pitiful human form, being surrounded in the total darkness.  I do not know how she could have survived like this for all those years.  I know, had it been me, I couldn’t have done it.  Sight is too important for an Andalite to live without.

I jerked when she took my hands, startled, and Matilda laughed.  “Hey, if you _want_ to walk into the walls …”

“I could open my eyes.  And isn’t Champ trained for this sort of thing.”

She jerked my hands sharply.  “Ass.”  And when I gave her a one-eyed glare, she flicked my nose, painfully.

“OW!” I snapped, jerking away, and glared doubly hard, since I opened both eyes.

“Don’t be such a baby.  Close them.”

Still smarting from her cruelty, I sighed and allowed her go guide me inside, though I’m sure she did some weird test to make sure my eyes were actually closed.  We walked until I was probably in the middle of the living room before she released me.

“All right, open them.”  She sounded gleeful, like a young child.

Wary, I opened them, and words left me at the sight. 

“Do you like it?”

It was a sort of trick question.  It was all painfully _familiar_ and yet alien, and it was … my thought were in a jumble.  “What happened?” I gasped as I made a slow circle.

“I decorated!” She clapped her hands happily.  “For Christmas.”

Yes, obviously, because I recognized the reference for the holly boughs and tinsel and decorations and … and she didn’t! “You bought a tree!”

“Of course.”

I looked at it, decked in the fragile glass bulbs and twinkling lights and tinsel.  “You bought a real tree.”

“Umm, yeah.”

“You _endorsed_ that folly of chopping down trees for this frivolity?”

For a moment, Matilda looked startled and worried, and then she said, slightly desperate, “Well, I wasn’t going to let its death go to waste!  Nothing more disgraceful!” 

I felt relief, even slightly.  “You didn’t –”

Matilda laughed.  “No, Elfangor.  There were a bunch at the store, chopped.  I wouldn’t go to tree farm and cut down a tree.”

“You still didn’t have to buy a real one.  This is almost as bad.”

She looked a bit uncertain.  “So you’d rather me to buy a plastic one, made from all the pollution-making processes and not being biodegradable?  And isn’t it pretty?” she finished hopefully.

It would have been prettier if the tree hadn’t been chopped down, but it was too late for that.  And it was lovely.  I smiled.  “It’s beautiful.  I suppose,” I added, looking around the room.  Almost everywhere there were signs of the holiday, with holly over the doorways, colored candles, figurines, festive coverings, the tree.  There were even wrapped presents under it.  “How did you get all this?”

There was a sly smile on her face, slightly shy and nervous as well.  “I sort of borrowed your credit card.  You don’t mind, do you?”

“Only that you bought Champ that,” I groaned when Champ, who had curled to what was unofficially his spot on the floor, started gnawing on his toy again. 

Matilda giggled.  “I did buy you a poinsettia; it’s on the kitchen table.”

I shook my head, then started poking at the tree, fingering the ornaments and hanging silver thread.  With my back to her, Matilda wouldn’t see my smile.  It was sort of remarkable how so _very_ similar it was to the Christmas trees of my past, how Loren had gleefully decorated them, using the delicate home-made beaded ornaments her grandmother had given her. And then dropping left over tinsel into my hair when she distracted me with the traditions of mistletoe.

“So, do you like it?” she asked after several minutes, sounding worried.

“Yes.”  I turned back to her and let her see my smile, so she would see I was being truthful.  “Why did you do it?”

“It’s Christmas,” she said, as if that was all the reason that was needed.  Maybe it was.  “I figured Ax should get the full experience.  He really liked Thanksgiving and Halloween.”

“He liked them because both of them involved copious amounts of food.”  

“And so can Christmas.  I thought maybe we should have a big dinner or something, for the kids.  Not on Christmas or Christmas Eve, of course, but maybe the day before or after.  Trade presents and stuff.  And we could have a dinner on the holiday, just us, Ax, and Tobias.”

She looked at me was such desperate need for approval that I had to agree.  “If they would like, I have no arguments, provided the Yeerks do not cause trouble.”

Her face spread into a dazzling smile and I couldn’t help but smile back.   Until that annoying squeak sounded and I scowled at Champ, feinting that I was going to rush him to get the object.  The dog fell for it and rushed between us into the kitchen.   “Did you _have_ to get him one of those?”

Matilda laughed.  “If you wouldn’t throw away all of them, I wouldn’t have to get them.”

“If you stopped buying them, I won’t have to throw them away.”

“I guess it’s just one of those unending loops,” she said, unrepentant as she left me to skip to the kitchen.

After a moment, I followed her and took in the changes.  “I suppose it is pointless to ask if you may have gone a little overboard,” I commented as I sat, playing with the leaves of the plant.

“Yes, and I didn’t.  _Overboard_ would have been me buying those little musical things, where you push a button and they play _Jingle Bells_.  Cookie?”  She held out the decorative tin and I, of course, took one. 

“Well, at least you had _some_ restraint.”  I ate the cookie and then reached for another, but she slapped my hand and snapped the cover on it.

“Unlike you.  I want these to last.”

“Cookies were made to be eaten.  And my money bought them.”

“Money you stole!” she countered, holding the treats behind her back.

I sputtered, “From Yeerks.  And not all of it!”

“My cookies, not yours.”

“I thought this was the season of sharing,” I pouted.

“It is,” Matilda agreed.  “But if I share with you, I can’t share with anyone else, because you’re a pig and you’ll eat them all.”

“No I won’t.  It’d be physically impossible.”  Champ braved coming by me, twisting his head so I couldn’t get his new toy while I petted him.  It was his favorite game of keep-away.

She gave me a look as she tucked them above the fridge, as if I wasn’t taller than her and couldn’t reach them.  Did she think I was three?  “Yeah, because your stomach shrinks with each bite.”

“No,” I scoffed, holding Champ in a headlock and getting the annoying toy away.  “You already ate some.  I can’t eat all the cookies if you already ingested some of them.”

“Don’t try to be clever.”

“Who’s trying?” I grinned before tossing the toy down the hall.  Paws skidding, Champ rushed after it.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed and smirking.  “Elfangor, I won’t go admitting that.”

I made a face at her.

 ****

“You’re not allowed to even look at my credit card anymore,” I said after I came downstairs several hours later and witnessed the children playing with a toy train set.  Champ was backed into a corner, sitting next to Cassie and eyeing the contraption with a certain amount of distrust.  When it came near him on its circuit, he looked ready to snap at it.

Matilda merely rolled her eyes at me from the couch.  “Don’t even pretend that when they all leave you’re not going to be playing with it.”

“If you don’t want it, can I have it?” Marco asked.  “I always wanted a train.”

I almost said he could take the infernal thing, that I didn’t care, but I caught Aximili’s quick look and stopped the comment.  The other children were busy playing with it.  It was no fault of their own, as it was beyond impossible for six persons to equally control such a thing.  The humans understood the toy and, not meaning any sort of harm, leapt upon the chance to use it.  And no doubt they would continue to do so until someone reminded them that there were other children that wanted a turn.

“No, because then I won’t get a chance to play with it,” I said somewhat sarcastically, shaking my head as I went to the kitchen and grabbed the cookie tin from over the fridge. 

“I told you those were mine – oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized after my heart lodged in my throat.  “Two eyes suck sometimes, huh?”

I coughed up crumbs and glared when she offered me glass of water, though I wasn’t going to turn it down.

“I saw what you did.”

“You caught me in the act,” I corrected grumpily, stealing another cookie before putting the tin back.  “I will buy you another tin, if your cookies are so precious.”

“I don’t care about the cookies.  I know you’ve been sneaking them any chance you can get.”

“Then what are you talking about?” I asked as I sipped the water.

“Why you didn’t give Marco the train.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Are all Andalites like that?” she asked, sitting at the table and propping her chin on her hands.

I tilted my head, confused.  “Like what?”

“Desperate to grow-up.”

My brow wrinkled.  “I don’t understand.  We’re all like Peter Pan?”

“Peter Pan didn’t want to grow up,” Matilda corrected.  “Ax.  I mean, he obviously wanted to try it, but he won’t ask.  He just looks at it longingly.”

“You could have told the other children to let him have a turn,” I said, sitting on a stool.

Matilda shook her head.  “He would have been embarrassed or said he didn’t want to, that it was too human and primitive.”  I had to agreed, she was probably right.  “I’m glad you noticed.”

“He’s my brother.  Of course I would notice.”  I didn’t want to admit that it was only by chance that I saw Aximili’s expression.  “Besides, I cannot spoil the other children so much.  Their parents would want to have words with me.”

She laughed.  “Yeah.  Do you think he’ll play with it when they leave?”

“I’m sure if you offer some encouragement, he’ll pretend he’s doing it only to make you happy.”

“So maybe Andalites are just big in the whole self-denial thing.”

I shrugged.  “Perhaps.  Why did you buy that foolish thing, anyway?”

“I always wanted one.  It’s my Christmas gift to me.”

“You’re very generous.”

“I know.  Getting me what I wanted, no matter what the cost.  It was a sacrifice,” she said, completely straight-faced.

“I’m sure it was,” I said equally as solemn.  “And if you keep being so nice, I will cut up all of my credit cards.”

Matilda giggled.  “Do you really care?”

I thought about it, then shook my head.  “I’ve never been very good with finances, I admit.  Never had to worry about it, even … even before.”  It was true.  I was always clever enough to get money, perhaps in ways humans wouldn’t approve of.  Once I realized I was relying on Loren’s charity perhaps too much during those first human months, I set upon fixing it.  I was good at card games, because they were just probability and chance, mere math, and if people that I had an open face or was slow, it was to their detriment.  It was the same for pool, angles and contact and speed.  While I couldn’t walk very well, my arms and eyes were perfectly functional.  I was good at electronic repair, and, perhaps my easiest money, solving the human Rubik’s cube under some amount of time or theoretically drunk.  (Very young Andalite children had similar toys, called _vet thali_.)  “It’s never been very necessary, I guess.”

“So you’re rich on your world, too, or does the military pay you really well?”

“Andalites really don’t have money, like humans.  I mean, money is mostly for buying food, isn’t it, and we graze.”

She grinned.  “ _You_ might think money’s only for buying food, but it’s not.”

I smiled as well, looking down abashed.  “True, and you do have other things we need.  But … it’s very complicated.  Sort of like Communism – maybe that’s not the right policy, I can’t remember human social terms – but it works.”

Matilda leaned forward and looked interested.

“Everyone is supposed to do something, a job, if you will.  For example, my parents make designs for parts.  My brother and I are in the military. We aren’t paid formal wages, but we … we get credit, I suppose, from the Council.  Whatever we purchase, its worth is removed.  But it all balances out.”

“And how much credit do you have?”

Again I shrugged.  “My brother’s and my credit is of course forwarded to our parents’.  We have no need of it, being on the ship for years at a time – when we’re not stranded on backwater planets – and our parents may require it.”

She frowned, though she didn’t look like she was against anything I had said, but that she was trying to work her human brain around it.  “What happens if something happens and an Andalite doesn’t have enough credit?  Something bad happens?”

“It gets taken care of.  Aid is given.”

Matilda still seemed to have questions, but she smiled.  “Pity that can’t work on Earth.”

“Yes.  Though, of course, Earth does have its merits.  I would not have so many foolish things if I were home.”

“Like your Mustang?” Her face was crinkled in amusement.

I grinned widely.  “It would be like a human owning a small jet.”  Of course, Andalites do own crafts for transportation, but, in comparing my Mustang to an average car, I made only a small exaggeration.

“Speaking of foolish things, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You mean, what are you going to buy me with my money?”

“Yes, exactly.”

I deliberated for a moment, kicking my heels on the legs of the stool.  “I think … I think I would like to have a Krispy Kreme restaurant.”

Matilda laughed.  “Anything else?  A McDonald’s, perhaps?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”  I paused, then tentatively – though I made a point to make it sound as casual as possible –asked, “Do you wish for anything in particular?”

She quirked her lips.  “I’ve always wanted a pony.”

“A pony?  Wouldn’t Champ be jealous?”

“He comes to you more than me these days.  You stole my dog.”

“You don’t give him enough attention.”

“No, I don’t bribe him with food at every turn.”

I sniffed.  I did not _bribe_ Champ for his affections.   “Well, fine, if you would like a pony … but you cannot keep it in the house.  Though I don’t see why you’d want one.  You’ve got two perfectly fine Andalites around.  We’re better than ponies.”

“Yes, you are.”  She was quiet for a moment, and then said, “What would you like, really?”  Her voice was more serious. 

I shrugged.  “For the Yeerks to be defeated, but I doubt that will be within your abilities or my credit limit.”

“Yeah.”

“Otherwise, I don’t know.”  I looked down at my lap and fiddled with the glass, trying to think.  “These things … they’re just things.  It’s enough to be with friends – the children, Aximili, you.  I always liked that, being surrounded and welcomed by your family.  The food and silliness, it will be enough that the children are safe.”

“Did you mean that?” she asked, and I looked up to see her looking at me curiously.  “What you said?”

It was such a foolish question.  “That I want the children safe?  Of course.”

Matilda shook her head impatiently at me.  “No, before that.”

I tried to remember what else I had said, but there was nothing but the obvious.  “That I would be pleased to spend time with the children?  I like the feeling of family?”

For a moment, she looked like she was going to say something else, and then Matilda gave a strange sigh and smile, shaking her head.  “You can be impossible to shop for.”

“So can you.  What color pony would you like?”

 ****

The children came over to exchange presents the 23rd.  They only stayed a few hours, tops, because this was a time when families should be together.  Holiday music had played on the speakers, though it had done little to block out the children’s enjoyment of ripping paper and their gifts.  It was all great fun and everything, but I am not ashamed to admit I was relieved when they, except Tobias, departed for their own homes.  I enjoy being around them, but, sometimes when there is no battle to prepare for, I find myself a little overwhelmed with their exuberant energies and unsure of my place in it.  There is always this wall created by our differences in species and our age. 

Now, though, there was the much more sedate atmosphere.  Aximili, Tobias, and Matilda were in the other room in quiet conversation, barely heard over the Christmas music.  Champ was settled at my feet, gnawing on a large bone I had purchased him.  When given the choice between the squeaking toy and the bone, he wisely (and thankfully) chose the bone.  Every so often I would pass him cast-offs of gingerbread.

When I was I carefully applying gumdrops and other candies to the frosting, eating and sharing any that were even the slightest bit deformed, Matilda said from the entrance, “He’s going to be the fattest dog in the world if you keep doing that.”

“Then he’ll also be the happiest.”

“You know, for someone who said he enjoyed the feeling of family, you do an awful lot of hiding in the kitchen, away from the source of feelings of family.”

I looked up and beamed.  “Isn’t it good?”

“Hiding?”

“No, my gingerbread house.” 

Matilda shook her head.  “It’d be a pity to eat it.”

“No, it won’t.  Look, I finished wiring it so lights come on in different rooms.”  I demonstrated, grinning as each “room” lit up when I flicked the controls.

“Oh my god, did you make furniture too?  And little string lights?”  She leaned closer and examined the handiwork, then chuckled.  “You made a five-story mansion made out of candy!  Is that a chandelier?”

“You can’t eat it if you don’t make it,” I said primly.

Her eye up against the window, she claimed, “I get the hall.  I like the fire with the candy corn.”

“Thank you.”

“So your work for these past two days is almost done.”

“Only if the Yeerks keep being quiet,” I excused.  “And I’m not sure if it’s almost done, yet.”

She laughed again and started eating some of my decorative materials, mostly the M&Ms.  “Elfangor, you had it _finished_ last night.  What you’re doing now … I don’t know what it is.  It really is cool, though.  If you entered it in a contest, you’d win for sure.”

“Of course.  Ow!”  I rubbed the back of my head, even though it wasn’t a hard hit.  “I _wasn’t_ supposed to agree with you?”

“Big baby.  And you have to learn how to be modest.  A human _could_ beat you.”

“Very unlikely.”

Matilda shook her head at me but didn’t argue, because it’s hard to argue against the truth.  “The kids’ll think it’s cool.”

“They already do.”  I had been amused at their interest in it, though pleased as well.  Tobias – who had been spending his holiday here, a situation far more palatable than staying with his uncle – and Matilda mostly ignored the mess I made in the kitchen, only going so far as to laugh at my notes in the fridge that said, _Touch and Die_ , over three shelves.  (Aximili merely avoid the kitchen and the temptation.)

“Did you like the gifts the kids got you?”

“I already said I did.  And they didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving her a meaningful look over the fence.  (Gingerbread lightly covered with powdered sugar.)

“That’s the point of it.  And it’s not like you don’t deserve any.  You’ve been more nice than naughty this year.”

“Only by a little.”

She sucked on the candies.  “And I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.  I didn’t have anything to do with it.  And it wasn’t like you didn’t get gifts for them, either.”

“I hardly call giving them gift cards to stores gifts.”

“You gave them $200 each for their favorite stores, even Marco’s _Comic Book Emporium_ and Jake’s _Sports Unlimited_.”

“I didn’t know what they would like,” I deflected.  And it had been so much easier than braving the stores, where there were crowds and rudeness and no space.

“I think actually knowing what their favorite stores are was actually the impressive part.”

“It was mostly just educated guessing,” I shrugged.  “Pass me the green sprinkles.”

She did so and watched as I carefully poured a circle to make a wreath of them onto what eventually would be a gate.  “I like the shirt Rachel got you.”

I looked at her, unsure as to how to take the comment.  “I suppose it is a nice shirt, if Rachel chose it.”

Matilda giggled.  “You don’t have to pretend you like it with me.”

“I do like it,” I said quickly.  “Getting it, anyway.  A gift.”  I wondered for a moment if, when I had received it, Rachel had noticed my lack of enjoyment at getting clothing.  “I really do.”

She giggled again.  “We all know that.  A few of us just know a little bit better than Rachel that giving clothes to Andalites is like giving coffee cups to dogs.  It is a good color for you,” she added as if it were an afterthought.

“If you say so,” I said dubiously. It was a deep wine red.  I didn’t normally wear such bold colors.  But it was soft, which was a point in the shirt’s favor.

“I do.  And so does Rachel.”

“Then it must be true.”

“I’m going to Mass tomorrow night, just so you know.”

I looked at her warily.  “I hope you’re not telling me this because you wish for me to join you.”  I could not think of anything worse than being stuck in a cramp crowded church.

She shook her head.  “No, just so you know.  I don’t think anyone else is going either, but I want to.”

“You don’t need my permission to express your beliefs.”  Those years back, Loren had never been especially religious.  It was just another large difference between the two women.

“And I wasn’t asking.  I was telling.”

My lips quirked into a smile.  “Of course.  Though I am surprised Aximili did not desire to attend.”

Matilda laughed.  “He did, but, well, I told him maybe next week.  It’d be too crowded, and, even if he isn’t as jumpy as you, I didn’t think he’d like it.”

“I’m not jumpy,” I defended, insulted.

Her laugh was louder, but she silenced it.

“I’m not,” I repeated.  “I just don’t _like_ the crowds.”

“My mistake. Anyway, I told him another time.  But I did try to give him an overview of the religious bit.  He’ll have to ask Jake or Rachel about Hanukah, though.  All I know is that they light candles.”

“On the Menorah.”

She looked surprised at my knowledge of basic information, then shook her head.  “Tell me, is there anything you don’t know some trivia about?”

“I don’t know.  If I don’t know, how can I know if I don’t know it?”

“What did I tell you about trying to be clever?”  She grabbed my wrist.  “Come on, take a break.  Your confectionary creation is beautiful, it’s _finished_.  We can watch the Rankin-Bass holiday cartoons on TV.”

“Wouldn’t you know, I have to demorph now.”

“Ha, ha.  Don’t even try.”

“I really do,” I repeated.

Matilda looked at me, trying to assess my truthfulness.  “Elfangor,” she finally said.  “Never play poker.  Living room, couch, now.”

 ****

It was late Christmas Eve, and someone was stirring.  It wasn’t a mouse, and I carefully stepped out of my room and started to morph as Champ rushed down the steps to greet Matilda as she came in.  My changing ears heard her voice and, as my form finalized, I started to move, pulling on a sweatshirt.  Passing the end bedroom, I looked in to see Tobias asleep and carefully shut the door so any noise would have less of a chance waking him. 

“How was the service?” I asked once I was halfway down the steps.

“Great.  Did I wake you?” she asked.

“No.  I was checking on Yeerk activities.”

“Tobias asleep?”

I nodded.

“Great.”  She grinned widely and went to the kitchen, and then she disappeared down into the basement door.  Curious, I followed, standing on the landing while she opened a large cardboard box.

“What are you doing?”  However, the answer was apparent when she withdrew a large brightly wrapped present.  “I thought you already gave him a gift.”

Matilda frowned at me.  “I missed over ten years of giving gifts and Santas and everything.  I’m not losing this chance.”

“I did not mean …” I trailed off, unsure.  “That is nice of you.”

She kept pulling out boxes, some big and some small.  I wondered when she could have gotten them past me.  “Here, help me bring them up.  I got you and Ax stuff as well.”

Obeying, I took what she offered and made the several trips, ending up bringing most up myself as she tried to arrange them in an aesthetically pleasing way.  In the end, I had to smile, because it was adorable.  By adorable, I do mean ridiculous. 

“Your arrangement is beautiful, it’s _finished_ ,” I chuckled, sitting down.  Champ crawled over and raised his head, wanting a pat, and I complied.

When she looked at me, eyes happy and bright and face spotted with the glow of the Christmas tree lights, it took me a moment to remember the year and I missed her response.  But it didn’t matter.

“Did you buy yourself presents to unwrap on Christmas morn as well?”

“No.  I thought that’d be a little tacky.”  Like a young child, she scrambled to her feet and came to sit next to me on the couch.  Together we petted Champ until she took the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels.  It wasn’t long before she stopped, landing on an old black and white film where Santa Claus was going to be on trial. 

“I always liked this movie.”

“I remember,” I replied, sitting back.  “I always thought it was pure luck the way it turned out.”

“It’s the magic of Christmas.” I felt her lean against me and without even thinking my arm went around her.  But I didn’t think about it.

It was comfortable, just sitting there in the glow of the TV and twinkling lights.  During the movie’s trial, I was surprised to feel her playing with my hand – had been for some time – and I looked down, eyes wide.  She was completely focused on the film.  Her eyes intent on the screen and lights playing patterns on her face, another memory came unbidden.

_Like the Thanksgiving prior, they had invited me to spend Christmas with them at Loren’s uncle’s home.  I had nowhere else to go, and I had no desire to be apart from Loren, so I attended.  Even if it was a long car ride._

_It snowed here.  Of course, as an Andalite, I knew what snow was and had seen it, but Andalites cannot tolerate colds such as these for very long, otherwise we die.  But, here, it might have been a beautiful death._

_The tree twinkling in the corner of the room, fire dying, and TV volume on low, I focused on looking out the window, watching the softly falling snow in the night.  It was late.  Everyone else was asleep, even Loren, even though she was sprawled on my couch – my bed, though her uncle and aunt apologized at such circumstances.  We had been watching_ Miracle on 34th Street _, a movie Loren said she loved, but the excitement of the day and the late night had been too much for her._

_I carefully shifted my legs, as Loren was using one as a pillow, and kept looking out the window.  Beautiful._

_And then I looked down, and the through repeated itself.  She was in her ridiculous pajamas and under the blanket, and her hair and face was a rainbow of rapidly changing colors and shadows.  I didn’t know what was beautiful about her, except that she was.  I ran my hand through her hair and held her hand, smiling, before my attention went back to the window, periodically to the film, sometimes to her._

_The movie had long been over when I felt her hand touch my face, and, startled, I looked down._

_“You look adorable, do you know?” she smiled.  “Like a little kid.”_

_“So do you.”_

_“I didn’t mean to fall asleep and steal your bed.”_

_“I don’t mind.”_

_She grinned.  “I bet.”_

_I felt like I was missing something from her statement, but my mind couldn’t figure it out, not with her looking at me like that, rubbing my cheek, feeling her hair, watching the scattering lights on her skin.  I turned my face and kissed her palm._

_And then she was pulling herself up, and instinctively I was bending and raising my knees to assist her, and we were kissing.  Her hands tangled in my hair and I pulled her up._

_We remained pleasurably engaged for some time, until Loren, breathless, pulled away.  “I should get to bed, otherwise my mom will think you’re having your wicked way with me.”_

_I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I didn’t want her to go.  “Do you have to?” I asked, kissing her again._

_She let me, then pulled away.  “’Fraid so.”  She disentangled herself and stood up, before bending and kissing me again, but on the cheek.  “Good night, Elfangor.  Sleep well.”_

_“You, too.”_

_I watched her go, then tried to situate myself as I turned off the TV.  I didn’t know how I was going get asleep in the condition she had left me in._

Such a turn of thoughts was not helping me, not at all, and I shook myself.  Matilda was startled.

“Are you cold?”  She sat up, quickly pulled the afghan up, and wrapped me before I had a word out of my mouth.  “There, better.”

“I’m fine,” I said.  “I just got a chill, no reason.”  I quickly stood, though I kept the cloth wrapped around my shoulders.  “I should retire.”

She looked up at me, then nodded.  “Yeah, me too.  Help me up.”  She held her hand out and I took it.

Together we went upstairs, though Matilda parted and peeked into Tobias’s room.  I continued onto my room, though I paused at the door when Matilda called my name.  “Yes?”

With a quicker step, she rushed to meet me.  “I just wanted to say, good night.”

“Good night.”

Her lips quirked and then, quick as a tail flick, she jumped up and kissed my lips before darting into her room.

I was speechless.  “What was that for?” I demanded, careful of my volume.

She stuck her head back out the door, laughing, and whispered, “Look up.”

Doing so, the infamous green-leafed, white-berried plant hung ever-so innocently.  I wondered how long it had been there.  And who put it there.

I stepped into my room, ghosting my lips with my fingertips, before shaking myself and going to the closet.  I opened it and carefully withdrew my own set of wrapped presents, now feeling slightly silly that I had gone to the bother.  Someone once told me there should always be presents to open on Christmas morning.  I forced myself to not dwell on my foolishness, reminding myself it was the thought of gifts.  True, I had gotten fewer in number than Matilda’s, but it didn’t matter. 

I hoped so anyway.

Carefully I balanced them and started towards the door.  I was just about to step out when I doubled back, reached into the drawer, and withdrew the small little box with a crumpled bow.  I refused to think too much as I slipped it into my pants and went back to my trek.

Downstairs, Champ raised his head and watched me carefully arrange the gifts, trying to make them blend it with Matilda’s own efforts.  Lastly, and very hesitantly, I put the bowed box in the branches of the tree.  I almost grabbed it back several times, but I pulled myself away, though I jumped a mile when Champ leaned against me.

“Come on, boy.  It is time for bed.”

With one last nervous look at the tree, I climbed the steps and went to bed, Champ following.

 ****

The next morning, Christmas morning, when Aximili and I entered after a large breakfast run, I was surprised to see Matilda awake and making breakfast.  Which was distinctly _my_ task.

“You are up early,” I said with very forced casualness, some curiosity, stepping to look over her shoulder as she attempted to make French toast.

“It’s Christmas.  I thought I’d make you guys breakfast.”

“We’ve already eaten,” I said just as Aximili beamed, “That is great, Loren.”  I scowled at him, then said, “You’re going to burn them.”

She waved the spatula at me.  “Sit!” 

Reluctantly, I did so next to my brother.  He happily grinned.  “It’s nice to not have to wait.  Not that your breakfasts aren’t worth waiting for, Elfangor.”

“Nice recovery,” Matilda laughed as she scooped the finished ones onto a plate and passed it to my brother, whom I was scowling at.  “Milk or juice?”

“Both.”

“Of course.”  As she went to get all of the glasses, I moved to the refrigerator and got out the syrup, orange juice, and milk, setting them on the table, before I bent to get two apples and proceeded to cut them into quarters.  I was nibbling one when Matilda made her next comment.  “So, I take it we had a visitor last night.”

“What?” I asked, looking up, as did Aximili, his cheeks full of French toast and syrup.

“Let me remind you – fat, jolly man, white beard, red suit.  Goes by the name Kris Kringle.”

“You mean Santa Claus?” Aximili asked.  “The others told me about him, but I don’t think he’s real.”

Matilda gasped theatrically.  “How dare you, Virginia.  With such evidence in our own living room?”

He looked between us, unsure, before taking the plate – as if we would have stolen the food from it! – and going to look in the living room.  I glared at her.  “Don’t tease him.”

She handed me a plate.  “I’m not teasing him.  There are presents that magically appeared.  Since I know you won’t claim you put them there, someone else must have.  I wonder who?”

“Tobias?” I suggested sarcastically, before dropping my gaze and starting to eat, just as Aximili returned.

“There are more presents.”

“From Santa,” she grinned.

He sat back down and continued eating.  “One of you probably put them there.”

Matilda gave a little laugh.  “Must that be the only option?”

“Yes,” Aximili said. 

She pouted, probably upset that she couldn’t drag us into the nonsense and extort our Earth culture naiveté, such as it would be, but she stopped the conversation to eat breakfast.  Almost immediately I got to my feet and started making what I wanted for breakfast, which would never be solely French toast. 

By the time I finished the eggs and the sausages were piled on a serving dish, Tobias had staggered down, still in his pajamas.  “So Santa came last night?” he grinned, looking very amused.

“See!” Matilda said emphatically.  “You doubting Toms.”

“Yes, we are.  Bowl, Champ,” I ordered, pointing.  The dog quickly retrieved his feeding dish and sat back, waiting expectantly as I scooped him food and dribbled it with the sausage drippings.

Aximili looked unsure before asking me carefully, “Did someone come here last night, Elfangor?”

“It must be so.  Slow, Champ,” I scolded when the canine started eating a bit too fast.

“But I thought they said –”

“Yes, Aximili, there _is_ a Santa Claus,” I said, somewhat teasingly, and Tobias smirked.

“You yell at me,” Matilda said as Aximili looked between us.

“I did not say he was physically real,” I defended as I sat and helped myself to the breakfast sausages and eggs.  “As Mr. Church wrote, ‘he exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.’”

“I’d be more impressed with that if that hadn’t been printed in the paper yesterday,” Matilda said.  “Now, eat faster so we can open presents!”

In a mixture to both please and fulfill the desire, we finished and migrated into the living room.  The tree and presents looked as lovely as I had last seen them, and when I sat on the couch, I carefully picked off a peppermint from my gingerbread house that was lop-sided and truly needed to be removed.  Truly.

Despite Tobias’s attempt at nonchalance, he was almost as eager as his mother, and sat next to the tree to flip through presents, and Aximili sat next to him, also scanning for his (humanized) name with affected disinterest.  Matilda came as well, delayed because she had to dig out her camera from the closet.  Of course, I didn’t notice that until a flash almost blinded me.

“Perfect,” she grinned.

“Why are you wasting that film on me?”

She shrugged.  “Need something to throw darts at.  And that shirt really does look good on you.”

I was wearing Rachel’s gift and I shifted self-consciously.  “You have gifts to open.”

With a happy nod, she took a seat next to the boys and started to go through the gifts.  “This is for you.  And for you.  And this, for you,” she said, handing me a box.

“Here’s one with your name, Mom,” Tobias added.

“Oooh, from Santa.  And it’s heavy.”

I distinctly did not blush.

“Okay, open!” 

There was the sound of paper ripping – eager, but in a slow careful way to make it seem like it really didn’t matter – and we were each holding our gift.

“What is an Easy-Bake Oven?” Aximili asked, to Tobias’s laughter, as he surveyed the child’s toy.  “Does it actually work?”

“Yeah.  You can make little cakes in only a few minutes.”

“Really?”  He focused his eyes on the toy with a bit more interest.  I had a feeling Matilda was subtly poking fun at my brother with the gift, because I did not allow him to use the real oven unsupervised.  (Unsupervised meant either burnt or under-cooked foods, neither which were edible, and my brother preferred my cooking anyway.)

“Oh my gosh,” Matilda said as she examined the expensive camera box.  “You shouldn’t have,” she said, looking at me.

“I didn’t, Santa did,” I said awkwardly, then added, “It’s digital.  It’s supposed to be very good, professional, but that’s for humans.  I’m sure I could upgrade it.” 

She hugged the box possessively.  “Only if you promise not to break it.”

“Of course.  And what do you think?” I held up the ridiculous stuffed bear and raised a brow.

As if in response, I was again blinded by a flash, and I had to marvel at her turn of speed.  “Adorable. And you two, hold them up.”

“Mom,” Tobias said with a slight whine, but he did comply. (He had received remote control car.  It was possible he thought it childish, but he was still pleased.  I hoped it didn’t foretell the gift I had gotten him.)  “You know, you’re going to have to give us that so you can be in some pictures.”

“No.  I’m still in my pajamas and my hair is terrible.”

Presents continued to be handed out, and the camera was stolen from Matilda a few times.  I had to smile at a gift Tobias had also slipped into the Christmas stack.  It was a thick cookbook, bookmarked nearly every other page by Aximili, who thought those ones looked “especially delicious.”

I had to agree, they did.

There was a small upset when I dared to destroy my gingerbread house, picking off the bits of the peppermint sidewalk.  Matilda said I couldn’t eat it, while I argued that was the whole point of making it, but it ended after she took several pictures of it.  As the rest of the presents were opened – I also received a set of gardening tools, fuzzy dice (which I assumed was for my car), and socks that had reindeer on them – I sat back and ate my house, feeding Champ bits when his owner wasn’t looking, for she would have scolded me.  There was a huge mess of papers, and while Aximili and Tobias marveled over the remote control helicopter (and I was relieved it didn’t disappoint), I went to get a garbage bag for the boxes and discarded wrap.

I was digging under the sink when I heard Tobias say, “Hey, Mom, you missed one.  Oh, I think it’s for you.”  I froze, but only for a moment.  I perhaps moved a bit slower, yet when I heard a faint gasp I did release a small smile.  With a garbage bag in hand, I returned.  Matilda was sitting on the floor in a sort of stunned silence, examining the contents of the small box.  If Aximili or Tobias were looking at me strangely, I did not notice, as I focused on cleaning the mess.

“Elfangor, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

I made a noise in the back of my throat before saying, “You shouldn’t assume I gave that to you.”

“Well, _Santa_ has great taste then,” she said.  “Well, what do you think? Does it become me?”

“Of course,” I said without looking.

“You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t have to,” I said quietly to myself, before I turned and gave a lopsided smile.  “The bow is lovely.”  She had stuck it on her head, flattened and crumpled thing it was.

“Help me put it on?”

“You’re dressed in your pajamas.”

Matilda waved her hand dismissively and held out the necklace.  Without a word I took it, knelt behind her, and carefully worked the clasp around her neck.  “There.  Your own expensive stone humans are so foolishly fond of.”

She ignored my barb. 

“... So, I’m going to go get dressed, then Ax and I are going to try not to crash my new helicopter.”

“I won’t crash it,” Aximili said, somewhat offended as Tobias darted past us.  He sniffed.  “Do we have any batteries?”

“Third drawer in the kitchen.  I bought a new pack,” I said, and he, carrying the toy and the remote, left us.

“I didn’t think to buy batteries,” Matilda said as I went back to cleaning up.

“Because humans never think ahead.”

We were quiet for a few minutes.  Long enough for Tobias to come down the back stairs and go outside to where Aximili was already figuring out how to fly the toy.  (I hoped they gave me a chance to try.  Eventually.)

“Thank you, Elfangor.”

“For what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“For the necklace.”  I could almost hear her smile.  “It is a beautiful birthday present.”

I turned.  “Christmas, you mean.”

“No, birthday.”  She flipped a card to her fingers, and I might have paled at the sight of the forgotten personalized note that had been in the cover. I could read my handwriting from here.  _Happy Birthday. –E_  

I thought she might have made a comment about it taking these months to get my courage or some other remark, but she just smiled, looked down shyly as she slid it back in the box.  “It really is beautiful.”

“Er, yes.  I’m glad you like it.”

Her smile was kind, and then she turned and raised the box that held her new camera.  “Help me figure out how to work it?”

I returned her expression.  “Of course.”

 ****

After several glances over my shoulder at the table, I finally dared to ask, “Is something wrong?”  Of course, I asked with my back facing her, because I did still have to worry about my omelet.

Matilda sighed.  “I just realized I have the saddest life ever.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you know, I hang around with no one else.  Just … just the kids.  Which is sad.  And they make me feel old.”

“They do tend to do that.  And you hang around with the Chee,” I said, sliding the food onto two plates before turning and handing one to her.

Matilda ignored hers, sipping her coffee.  “Fine.  I hang around with thousands-of-years-old androids and fifteen- and sixteen-year-old kids.  And, before you say it, Hork-Bajir with the mental age of five-year-olds, except Toby, and really, she just sort of scares me.  As pathetic as it is, you are the only one I hang around that is even close to my age, and you’re not even human.”

“Look at it from my side, which is even worse.  I have all that, plus the only one of my species is my little brother.  You’ve got a planetful.”

“Maybe,” she said, picking at her food.

We ate in silence, or at least I ate.

“The problem is, I want to _do_ something.  But then I go, _wait, no, they have curfews, they’re under-aged, they can’t drive_.”  A pause.  “Legally.”

“You go shopping with Rachel. Isn’t that fun?” I suggested, trying to be helpful, then quailed under her look.

“It’s exhausting being with them.”  She tapped her plate.

“You are supposed to eat that.”

“What’s worse, is when I want to do something, I think of them!” she said, frustrated.  “They’re the only contact I have with the world.  When I was blind I wasn’t so isolated.”

“You could try to make friends.”

“Right.  Sure.  That’ll probably be a Controller.  Seriously, if I didn’t know the _Sharing_ was a front, I’d totally be there, because they do a lot of fun things.”

“Yes.  Dunking for Yeerks, Shoot the Bandit, Conquer the Universe.  Fun things, really.”

She scowled at me.

“ _Are_ you going to eat that?”  She slid the plate over with a sound and I started to eat.  “When did this start to bother you?”

“What?”

I repeated myself before taking a drink of water.  “I mean, did you really just realize?”

“Yes. … No.  I mean, hey, we had that New Years’ Eve party, right?”

“If you mean that noise and cheering the children did after we nearly blew up hardware store, yes.  Though it was already after midnight.”

“Doesn’t matter.  And the point is, that wasn’t a party.  That was me … and you, maybe … supervising teenagers!  They had the party.  I got dishes.  And cleaning up the mess afterwards.”

“I helped.”

She waved her hand dismissively.  “I’ve become the Den Mother. One of those moms that has no life outside the house.”

I gave her a look.  “You know, in the middle of a war, you can’t exactly worry about your social calendar.  Though, if it bothers you so much, go out.  Have fun.  The children do it.  They go to the movies and do …,” I faltered, unsure of exactly _what_ they did.  All I knew is that they weren’t in my house, and when they were in my house, they did not complain about being bored often. “They do whatever it is human children do for fun.”

“Do you know what the saddest thing is?”

I paused.  “Your life?” I hedged, recalling the start of the conversation, then realized I said the wrong thing when she glared at me.  “No, no, I don’t,” I corrected quickly.

“The woman who is by herself at the club or diner or wherever.  Especially a woman my age!  Which is not that old!”

“One of the children coul—or not.  One of the Chee.  Mrs. King, perhaps. There’s no need to scowl, I’m trying to help.”

“That’s what you call it.”  She looked away and started playing with her coffee mug.

I sighed at took the plate to the sink.  “It’s really not such a big deal,” I said as the water filled the basin.  “You are just over-analyzing it.”

“Pfft.”

The sink filled, I washed the few dishes from our meal and breakfast, before letting them air dry.  We were quiet during that time.

“Elfangor?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s go out.  No kids or siblings.  Just the adults.  Just this once,” she whined.  “I don’t want to have to think about if they’re old enough to do something or that I have to watch them.”

I blinked at her.  “Pardon?”

“Come on.  Just somewhere different.  I know you can do it.  Pleeeeease?”

She looked so pitiful I was saying yes before I realized it.  “But you will have to decide everything.  I’m not playing that _what do you wanna do, I dunno, what do you wanna do_ game.”

Her face beamed.  “Deal.”

 ****

“You’re being a suspicious bastard, Elfangor,” Matilda said in the car, leaning back to let the wind mess her hair.

“No, I’m not.  They’re thinking of doing something,” I said, very clearly recalling the faces of the children and Aximili when I said we were going out.  Why _had_ they all been present?  They were up to something, I did not know what, but I _knew_ they were.  “I’m telling you, I know those looks.  They’re going to get in trouble.”

She pushed me.  “Stop trying to get out of this.  The kids’ll be fine.  Look, we’ll call and check up on them, every hour like worried parents.  They’ll be fine.”

I tapped the steering wheel.  “That’ll do a lot of good when they go and get themselves killed.  Then they’ll be dead and no one will answer the phone.”

Matilda laughed.  “I’m pretty sure they’ll not get killed.  They might throw a kegger, but they won’t get killed.  In fact, I bet they are just …” She trailed off.

“Just what?” I demanded, looking over. 

“Never mind.  Now, I’ve got this all planned out.  We’ve got reservations at the supper club.  We’ll just hang out with the other adults at the bar.”

“Do I have to talk with them?”

“Shut up.  The fact of the matter is, there is no one under twenty-one.  It’s perfect.”

I shook my head.  “You know, I haven’t had actual proof, but I think you have gone, as the children would say, a little crazy.  Insane.”

“Me?  You’re the one thinking they’re going to kill themselves with you not hovering over them.”

“I’m concerned.”

“You hover.  You are a helicopter Prince.”

I didn’t understand that insult, and hence ignored it.  “What are the directions, again?”

She happily directed us.  After several miles we were at the club.  It didn’t look like much, just a regular building.  Patrons were there, filtering in and out, and I sat staring at it after I put the car in park.  “Is this right?”

“Yes,” she said, fixing her make-up in the mirror.  “It’ll be fine.  Put the top up and let’s go in.    Our reservation is in a half an hour.”

I sighed before putting the top up and turning off the car.   Matilda was already out, waiting impatiently.  Why had I agreed to this?  I didn’t _like_ doing this sort of thing.

“ _Alan_ ,” she said my name with an emphasis, like she was name-calling, “hurry up!” Matilda said, patting on the roof.  With a final groan, I got out and looked at her from over the car.  “Don’t worry.  This’ll be fun!”

“Like breaking into a fully-mannedBlade ship,” I said to myself before meeting up with her.  After we entered the building, I nearly did an about-face.  Too many people, too crowded in this small space.  I didn’t, however, because Matilda took my wrist and dragged me to the reception area.

“Fangor, reservation for two,” she said cheery, holding up two fingers, as if the receptionist didn’t know how many _two_ was.  “We’ll be over in the bar when you’re ready for us.”

The receptionist looked less than interested, though she appeared to try to smile.  Matilda then dragged me through the throng of humans to the bar counter, tried to get the bartender’s attention.

“You do have your ID, don’t you?” she asked me.

“I drove.  You’re the one who needs it.”

Her head snapped back.  “If I didn’t actually know you, I’d say you were complimenting me.”  I wondered if I had, and how.  Then the bartender came.  “Hi, I’d like a strawberry daiquiri and …”

“Amaretto and coke,” I supplied, already withdrawing my wallet.  Within a few minutes we had our drinks and wove to a less-cluttered area.

“This is nice.”

Yes, she was crazy, and I drank half of my glass with one gulp.  “I think you’re forcing it.”

“Hey, drink slower.  I’m not carting your drunken ass home.”

“I have a higher tolerance than that!” I said with a laugh.  Looking around, suddenly I saw something to distract me from this.  “Do you want to play pool?”

“Play pool?”

“Yes, play pool.  Or billiards, or whatever.  There’s a table free.”  I gave her a look.  “You owe me.”

Matilda frowned but agreed to get up.  “I don’t even know how to play pool.  Do you?”

I dug into my pocket for the change from our drinks, scoffing.  “This is how I used to pay rent.”

“You were a pool shark?” she laughed as I got the two quarters and prepared to pay.  “I can’t quite see it.”

“It’s all math and angles.  It’s not that hard.  Come on, I’ll teach you.  It’ll kill time before we can eat.”

“Okay, whatever you want.”  She went and examined a cue stick while I set the rack up.  “Don’t squash me like a bug too much, okay.”

“Sure, I won’t.”  I slid the triangle away and grabbed my own cue.  “I’ll even let you break.”

“You’re so nice,” she simpered.  “That means I get to hit the white ball at all the colored balls, right?”

I rolled my eyes and let her take the shot.  She had little form and completely missed the cue ball. “Try again.  And loosen up, and hold the cue like this.” I demonstrated, corrected her hand and posture, leaning over her.  “Firm and smooth motion.”

She snickered, but, on this try, she hit the triangle of balls.  It wasn’t a good hit, mind, but they scattered, and one –the seven – even went in a pocket.  “Look, I got one!” she pointed, like a small child.

“Yes.  Now, what one do you want to get in next?”

“I can hit any one of them?”

“Except the eight ball.  You could hit another solid color, since you did pocket one.”

“I’ll have to keep hitting the solid ones, then?” I nodded.  “Okay.”  She bit her lip in thought, eyes looking over the table.  “The blue one.  I could get that one, do you think?”

“If you can aim, yes.”

She stuck her tongue out and tried the shot, but she missed.

“Try again?”  I’d let her.   The point wasn’t to play by the rules or to win.

“No.  Your turn, expert.”

I grinned as I looked around.  I would not play too viciously with her, go for the easiest; it wouldn’t be right.  My eyes swept the table, mentally calculating the angles, the speed necessary, as I put chalk on the tip.  Yes, the fourteen.  That one was challenging.  Perfect.  I bent, lined up, and struck.

“Oh my god, you totally –” She silenced, watching the cue barely nicked a twelve, tapped a border, hit a ball, angled, hit another border, slid between two other balls, and soundly hit the fourteen into a pocket.  A perfect hit.  “You show-off.”

I grinned and bowed. 

“I dare you to hit the nine.”

“Can’t you give me a challenge?” I mocked back.  “Off the back, to the five, which hits the nine, side pocket.”

Matilda shrugged and made a motion, as if to say prove it.  And I did, perfectly.

“All right, the eleven, in this one.”  She indicted the back pocket nearest her.  “ _And_ you have to hit the … the red one, the three. I think.”

Smirking, I looked over the table.  “As you wish.”  However, when I lined up, just before I hit, she set her class directly in front of my shot.

“Think of it as a handicap.  You can’t spill my drink either.”

Laughing, I stepped back and rethought my strategy as I walked around the table.  I had to be careful about the balls I hit now, figure out where they would go if struck.

“I wouldn’t think less of you if you admit it’s too hard,” she called, taking a sip of my drink.

“I’ll let you know when it is.”  Ah, there!  That would work.  “Eleven, back pocket.  Avoiding the drink.  Hitting the three somewhere in there.  Watch and learn.”

Off the side, between three balls, tapping the one, which rolled the inch to hit the three, while the cue rolled to hit the five at just the right angle and speed to get the eleven to roll down to the back pocket.  Though, I will admit, I felt a little nervous as it slowed down and wasn’t a dead center on the pocket, instead getting the edge.  I _might_ have even mimed it to keep moving, which it did.  “Ha!”

“And you almost got the cue ball to go in too!”

“But it didn’t!”  Though not by much. 

“I’m never going to get a turn again, am I?” she sniffed, wiping away fake tears.  “Oh, well, whatever.  This one, that middle pocket.  And I move the handicap here.”

My mouth dropped.  It was a centimeter in front of my cue ball, which was trapped in the corner.  “That’s … that’s impossible!”

She grinned sweetly.  “Is it too much of a challenge?”  I scowled at her, and just decided to roll the ball into the pocket before picking up the drink.  “I win!”

Matilda happily retrieved the white ball and looked around the table while I drank my Amaretto and coke.  She was probably looking for an impossible miss.  “Do I get to put handicaps in front of you, too?”

“No.”

“Do the five, the orange one.  It’s a straight shot.”

“Oh, I see.  Thanks.”  And if, while she tried to get situated or during the course of her shot, she caused a few other balls to move, I certainly didn’t see it happen.  “Ha, we’re tied now!”

“I got three in, dear.”

She glared at the reminder.

“Well, I just have to hit another in, then.”

I snorted.  “Go for it.”

In her defense, she did get a ball in on the next hit.  It was just one of mine, the thirteen.  “We’ll pretend that one’s mine.”

“As you wish.”  I was laughing.  “I’ll hit the green one of yours.”

“Then now we’re tied.”

“Just shoot.”

She got cocky, or reached the limit of her abilities, because Matilda’s next shot probably hit her target, but it didn’t get into a pocket.  I realized her problem.  She didn’t comprehend or think about using the sides of the table.  If it wasn’t a clear shot, it was beyond her abilities.

For a moment, I pondered telling her that, but then realized she wouldn’t appreciate it and wasn’t looking for a lesson.  I don’t think she honestly thought she’d win, either, but that she was just humoring me.  So I said, “Nice try.  I await your command.”

“I like this.  Getting to boss you around.”

“As if you already don’t.”

“True.”  She thought about it.  “That red-brown one, whatever hole.  And … you have to hit three sides with the white ball, as well as hit the one, two, and three, in that order.”

“In any order,” I countered, because that was probably impossible, at least without sinking another ball.

“Fine.  In any order.”

I chalked my stick, looking at the table.  “And where will your drink be?”

“I’ll be nice.  In front of this pocket.”

“You just want it there so you can drink it without reaching.”

“Shoot, you whiny baby.”

I did make the shot, but I only got two sides.  The cue ran out of velocity.

“You were supposed to hit those balls with the cue as well,” Matilda added.

“You have to be a bit more realistic.  There is no way I could have done it.”

“So you claim.”  But she didn’t look upset.  I think she liked giving me hard shots, to see if I could make them.  It was a game, something beyond the standard pool.  She couldn’t win that way, and I didn’t necessarily win her way.  It balanced everything.  “Blue stripe _and_ the green one, but you have to hit either two sides or two other balls or hit something twice.  And my glass” – she emptied it – “goes right in the middle!”

“You have an annoying preference for hitting things a lot,” I scowled, not liking where her glass was set.  I could easily get one in under those conditions, but not both.  She might have expected that.  Sighing, I took the shot, sunk the blue, hit the side, the four, and the green, which rolled and stopped at the glass.

“My turn.”

I leaned over and removed her glass.  “Would you like another?”

“Yes, please.  And get you one too.”

By the time I returned, Matilda had apparently taken a shot.  “I got the green one.”  I wasn’t surprised, remembering how I left the table.  It would have been a clear shot.  “You have to hit the purple one, now,” she reported, eyeing up the yellow.  It was close to the eight ball, and I wasn’t surprised when both were hit, the angle sending them in opposite directions.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  I set my glass next to my still half-filled previous drink.  “What do you want me to hit?”

“The striped purple.  And,” she set the drinks casually on the table, all of them, “avoid the glasses.  Nothing can hit them.  At all.”

With six balls on the table, it was a tall order, especially where she put the glasses, a perfect guard around the ball I needed to sink.  “Weren’t you the one I had to drag over to play the game?” I asked dryly, leaning forward and hitting the cue.  It bounced in the in a perfect zigzag in the corner, struck the twelve, and it rolled to the side, slipping down the hole.  But the cue continued rolling and hit one of the remaining balls, and it rolled against a glass.

“You like it.  My turn.”  After clearing the table, she aimed for the yellow again and hit it with a glancing blow.  I don’t even think she was trying anymore.  “Your turn.” 

“Let me guess.  Purple ball.”

“Mind reader.”  She set the glasses around the cue ball, blocking it from the ball in question.

“Any other requirements?”

She shrugged, sipping her drink before setting it back down.  “Hit the blue ball too.  And then the eight ball.   In that order.”

It was a trick getting the stick between the glasses, not hitting another ball, and angling the shot enough that it wouldn’t simply bounce back.  It involved some strange bending.  I managed to get the four in a pocket and did hit the two, but I just missed the eight by the smallest gap.  I banged the pool stick against the floor in disgust, and Matilda laughed.

“My turn.”

“You know, normally it doesn’t become your turn when I fail to make ridiculous demands.  Only when I don’t sink my ball.”

“As if we ever play by rules.”  And, as if to make her point – though that would be giving her _far_ too much credit – Matilda sunk the eight ball.  It had been lined up so nicely the cue followed.

“Technically, you lose now.”

“I was going to lose anyway.”  She got the cue, then held it possessively when I reached for it.  “I get to put it down.  Right … here.”

From what I could tell, there was no reason for her choice.  It was likely she just didn’t want to give me the chance.  “Now what am I supposed to hit?”

“Could you sink all three with one shot?”

“Any handicaps or requirements?”  She shook her head and I looked at the table.  Two of the balls were close together in the upper quadrant; the remaining was on the far side, right along the side.  The cue was near the middle, to the side.  “Unlikely.”

“Are you just being modest?”

“I know my limits.  Bending space is one of them.”  I leaned down and easily took care for the two that were grouped together, then waited until the ball stopped before getting the last one.

“Let’s play again.”

“Really?”

Matilda nodded, digging in her purse.  “Only this time, you have to do what I say.”

“This is different, how?”  I watched as she put the money in and then set the balls up, going so far as to put them in numerical order.  “They don’t have to be in order.”

“I’m setting it up and can do it any way I want.”  When she lifted the triangle, one ball rolled slightly, and she tapped it back.  “I thoroughly expect all of them to be pocketed after the break.”

I laughed.  “Be disappointed.”  I lined up and it was a good break.  I got two balls in.

“Now put the one in.”

“You’re going to make me shoot them in order, aren’t you?” I said dryly.

“Noooooooo.  Two.”

It was quickly done, and then she gradually started putting in her ridiculous demands as the table cleared.  Matilda probably realized that it was more possible to do such things on a less cluttered table.

“ _Only_ the nine.”

I smiled to myself.  It was a perfect line-up, with the nine behind the seven, and the cue right in front of them.  I had been making my shots put the ball where I wanted it to be.  “Just the nine?”  I hadn’t done this often, but it was a good parlor trick.  Up high and aiming low, I got the cue to bounce over the unwanted ball, to go between them and send them merrily apart.  It wasn’t good enough to sink the ball though.

We were both surprised at the mild applause.  We had attracted an audience.  After recovering, Matilda laughed.  “You failed.”

“I did.”

“Five sides, no other hits but the twelve.”

“Five sides on a four-sided table.  I’m amazed you know what a square is.”  A hard hit, and the ball bounced like a pinball on three sides until it slapped the twelve towards a hole, then bounced in the corner.

“Fifteen.  Hit the eight and nine, in that order.”

The eight and nine were on opposite sides of the table.  The fifteen was by a hole.  I was almost insulted, until I realized Matilda probably didn’t want me to look bad in front of the other humans.  “All right.  To the eight, to here, to here, the nine, to here, to the fifteen, and hopefully the cue won’t follow,” I said, tapping the table. 

As predicted. 

We continued the game, drawing a few more humans.  I smiled to myself as Matilda chatted with several of them, happily mocking my abilities, and then smiled through the introductions and chitchat that I had to do if I wanted to seem polite (and not make her mad at me).

I was about to tell her I was going to check on our table when a human youth rather crudely mocked my abilities.  With a glance, I could see he was young, stupid, buzzed, and that he had friends that were similarly inclined.

“Come on, let’s have a game.  See how good you really are.”

“Our table is probably almost ready.  I don’t have time.”

He laughed.  “I’ll beat you quick.”  His friends cheered.

“I’m afraid I have to decline.”

“Come on.  Here, twenty dollars.”

My face was neutral.  When I was younger, I would have laughed.  Perhaps I had been cockier, or perhaps more rash.  Or more desperate for the money.  “I can’t take your money.”

“You won’t.  Come on.  Chicken?”

They jeered at me and I gave Matilda a quick look.  She shrugged, saying it was up to me.  “Very well.  If you win, I give you twenty.  I win, you give me twenty.  And you pay for the game.”

His friends encouraged him, and I shook my head while I went to my drink.  Matilda gave me a shoulder nudge.  “Don’t crush him too hard.”

“I won’t.”  I took a sip and watched the man and his friends set up the table.  They cheered when he made the break and sunk a ball.

He did have talent, or at least knew what he was doing.  But he was sloppy and missed after his next hit.

“Good luck.  And yay!” Matilda clapped.

I got solids.  I set my drink down and looked around.  This would be easy.  And it was.  Within five minutes, I had hit my seven required balls and finished by sinking the eight ball.  “Good game,” I said to my opponent.  “And you can keep the money,” I added as I went to Matilda.  “Is our table ready?”

But before she would answer, the idiot regained his vocal cords.  “Hey, I want a rematch!”

“Yeah, you … you cheated.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what I could have done to cheat.  In fact, I wasn’t quite sure how to cheat at this game.  I never had to, after all, though I had played against people that attempted.  Was I supposed to have tilted the table, somehow, or rearranged the balls when no one was looking?  “I most certainly did not.”

“Alan, let’s go eat,” she said quickly, recognizing my tone, sliding down from the stool and taking my arm. 

“Have a nice evening.”

“Come on, you chicken.”

“Ignore them,” she muttered, and she dug her hand into my arm.

Did she think I’d be challenged by this stupid human?  How insulting!  “I could beat them again,” I said, looking over my shoulder.  “They’re novices.”

“No.  Not because you couldn’t win.  But because after you do, those idiots are going to want to beat you up.  And then you’ll have to either get beat up or beat them up, and that will just mess up my evening.” 

“So you don’t actually care about me?”

“No.  So we are going to sit right here and wait to be called.”  She sat and pulled me down onto the bench, where the receptionist could see up.  And it was right at the door, so people kept walking back and forth in front of us, back and forth.

“We could go play darts?”

“Are you good at that?” she countered.

I wasn’t, not really.  “I can hit the board.”  Sometimes.  It was wise to make sure no one was near the target, or, strangely enough, standing three feet to the left of me.  I wasn’t quite sure how I managed that one.

“You know at lot of bar games.”

“A lot of games played in bars,” I corrected.  “And I left my drink.”

She patted my knee.  “It’s all right.  You can buy yourself another one.  Ooh, that’s us!  Come on.”

The receptionist had waved at us, and then we followed the waiter to our table.  After he asked for our drinks, he left us to go through the menu.  This was always the hard part about going out, choosing the meal.  There were always so many choices, and they would all taste great, I was sure.

“What are you getting?” Matilda asked.

“What are you?” I distracted.

“The pot roast sounds good.  Yeah, I think that.  You?”

I looked up and down the menu.  “The steak … or maybe the chicken.  The fish sounds nice though.   Or the pork chops. But the roast …”

When she giggled, I looked up.  “I can’t help it.  You should see your face, all indecisive and cute.” Then her face twisted up as she probably tried to imitate me.  However I looked, if judging by her expression, it wasn’t cute. 

“Well, it’s a difficult decision,” was all I replied, looking back down.

“It takes you all of two seconds to decide if we should die by slicing or shooting, and you can’t pick supper.  I mean, I’d think that’d be a bit more important.  You can only die once.  You can eat supper every day.”

“You’re taking the short-range approach to it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Looking back down at the menu, I replied, “I don’t have to live with my death.  I do have to live with my supper.  Therefore, in the long-term, it pays to carefully decide your supper.  It might be your last one, and you always want it to be a nice one.  You don’t get last deaths.”

Her eye roll was nearly audible.  “If they ever ask you for a last meal, you’d never get executed.”

“Which, in my opinion, would be a good thing.  What do you think of the prime rib?”

“No.  You didn’t bring a bib.”

“Ha ha.”

I was trying to narrow down my choices when the waiter came with our drinks, then asked if we were ready to order.  Matilda must have taken perverse pleasure in saying yes.  “I’ll take the pot roast, with mashed potatoes.”

“Peas or carrots?”

“Carrots.”

“Soup or salad?”

“What are the soups?”

“Chicken, crème of potato, and California blend.”

“Potato soup, please.”

He dutifully wrote everything down and then turned expectantly to me.  “And for you, sir?”

After I scowl, I said, “The … the seafood platter, if you please.  And carrots, baked potato, California blend soup _and_ a salad with the dressing on the side.  Ranch.”

“Do you want sour cream with your potato?”

“Yes.”  Yes, _of course_. 

The waiter finished writing, took the menus, and said, “Your soups and salad will be out in a moment.”

Once he disappeared, Matilda laughed.  “I was afraid you were going to go down the list and we’d need to go to a bigger table.”

“I’m not my brother!”

We spoke pleasantly during the meal or lapsed into a comfortable silence.  I excused myself after the main course was finished to refresh my limit and told her to pick the desserts for the both of us.  _That_ trip wasn’t worth mentioning, if only because I ran into a drunker version of the human I played pool with earlier, and his pride was still upset.  Since I had no wish to engage him – my time was low, as I didn’t want to leave my plate half-finished – I was the smallest bit rude. 

“I got this brownie fudge thing,” Matilda informed as I sat down, then cleared her throat and patted the top of her head.  It took me a moment to understand her meaning, and then I tried to flatten my hair.  She grinned.  “I really don’t understand why your hair does that.”

“Neither do I.”

“It’s never that bad at home.  Just when we go out.”

“That’s because I usually run a damp brush through it.”

“Really?  You’re so vain.  It looks better now.”  She sipped her water.  “You were gone longer than I expected.  You didn’t call the kids, did you?”  Her voice sounded dismayed.  “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.  It just took a while to use the facilities.”

“Lines in the men’s room?  Please,” she scoffed.  “You totally called.”

“Would you like to call and find out?”

The argument that really wasn’t ceased when dessert arrived, and we were happily diverted. 

“So did you approve of the children-free evening?” I asked, wiping my mouth.

“It was nice.  But it’s not over, yet.”

“It isn’t?  We ate.  What else is there to do?”

Matilda gave a little laugh.  “What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Exactly.”

I didn’t understand.

“I’m not going home until at least midnight.”

“You’re going to hold me hostage until midnight?”

She thought about it.  “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“I guess I might have to call the children.  For help.”  And then I ducked when she flicked water at me.

 ****

We sat on the hood of the car, eating ice cream and looking over the ocean.  As far as I was concerned, we had barely escaped the beach party-thing.  And, to go along with that, karaoke was obviously created by the Yeerks.  Purely evil. 

 _And_ she volunteered me, signed me up without my knowledge or approval!  I only promised not to kill her as long as it _never_ got mentioned again.  Or that vile word in my presence. 

Not that I was embarrassed or anything, mind.  I didn’t care about human opinion.  They didn’t know me.  I was quite free to do what I wished on this planet, because humans would never know the truth.  It was, actually, liberating.  But that did not mean I _wanted_ to be “volunteered” to do things that were patently stupid! 

But Matilda had fun laughing _at me_.  We only left because I vowed if we didn’t, she’d end up on that stage, and Matilda thought discretion was the better part of valor.

“It’s not like you actually care, though.  And I only volunteered you five times, and most of those times were with those guys,” she had grinned, but agreed to depart.  We had stopped to get ice cream, her treat, an effort to improve my mood.  It did work.

“It is almost midnight,” I commented.

“Is it? Damn.”

“And it’s going to rain.”

She laughed.  “Don’t even try that _I’m an Andalite who lives outdoors and can totally read the weather_ thing on me.”

“It was on the radio,” I said dryly.

“Exactly.”  But she sighed.  “Fine, we can go back.”

I could hear the disappointment.  “But it was a nice time tonight, wasn’t it?  Aside from the singing.”

“You have a nice voice.  And the first time, I thought a vein was going to explode from your head.”

“So you got what you wanted.  An evening away from the children.  Trying to embarrass me was probably a bonus,” I continued, ignoring her comment.  “And we have a drive.  We won’t even get back until after midnight.  I know we won’t beat the rain, anyway.  Come on.”

She gave the deepest, most depressive sigh before saying, “Fine.”

We got back into the car and drove away.  It was nice, driving at night, until, as I reminded, it started to rain.  It was a light sprinkle, and Matilda grinned when I met her eye.  I pulled over so the top could up come, but then frowned when, despite flipping the switch, it did _not_ come up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.  “It worked earlier.”

“I don’t know.”  Listening, I couldn’t even hear the motor for the top running, which made _no_ sense.  This was a practically new car, and it had sounded fine earlier.  I had brought the top down after the supper club, and hadn’t bothered to put it up at the beach party, because I could periodically check to see if humans were harassing the vehicle.  And now it wasn’t working.  And it was going to rain.  The interior was getting wet!

“The connection must have come off.”

“Well, you better fix it, otherwise your precious car will get ruined.” 

She was mocking me as I got the key for the glove box.  “Here, get me the flashlight.  It’s in the glove box.”

Matilda took the key and opened the box.  “Flashlight.  And …oh, gun,” she pronounced, pulling both out.

“It’s for emergencies,” I explained.

“The gun or the flashlight?”

“Give me the flashlight, please.”

She did so, then examined the gun.  “I didn’t know you had one.”

I shut the car off and popped the hood, saying, “I liberated it from some youth.  And don’t point it at anyone, it’s loaded.”

“Is the safety on?” she asked, though she started holding the gun less casually and a bit further away.

“Of course.  And I only keep it in the car because I don’t want one of the children to get it.”

She laughed as I got out and moved to the front of the car.  “Yes.  Guns are dangerous.  Totally unlike fighting Controllers.”

“Exactly.”  I lifted the hood and turned on the flashlight. It took me a moment to find the right wiring, and I carefully traced it, pulled gently to see if there was any give.  It was connected to the battery, and I made sure about the other connections I could reach.  “Try it for me,” I called. 

She slid over and yelled, “Watch your fingers and stuff.”  I waved a hand and watched as the engine turned over.  Everything seemed all right.  “Okay … umm, nope, not moving.”

I checked the wires again, growing frustrated.  “Pop the trunk.”

“Okay.”  She leaned over to watch me go back, and I lifted it, moved aside the bags of clothes and blankets.  “What are you doing?”

“You can get to the motor back here.”  I glared when it appeared all of the wires were still attached.  That meant there was probably a loose connection _somewhere_ in the possible mile of wiring.

Matilda was smart enough not to push me too much.  She merely said, “You’re a super-smart Andalite and you can’t fix this?”

“You do know I have a gun in the glove compartment, don’t you?” I snapped back.

“It’s _raining_.”

I ignored her and flipped the switch, hoping against hope that it would start working.  This was impossible.  It was night.  I could only see what the flashlight would illuminate, it was _raining_ , and humans had primitive things to begin with!

“ …. Ummm, Elfangor?  Don’t get mad, but I think you broke your car.”

“Check the fuse.”

“What?”

“Check the fuse!” I repeated, harder. 

“And where’s that?”

“Under the dash.  Here, use the flashlight and see if it’s loose there or something.”

Matilda rolled her eyes at me before taking the flashlight and feeling under the dash.  “This is what happens when you get a convertible.”  Then she found it and said, after a moment’s check, “They’re all snug and tight.  And _no_ , I’m not seeing any on the floor.”

“Are they all there?”

Her face appeared.  “Elfangor, let me paint you a picture – I’m the person who made _you_ take care of the fuse box when the breaker broke or whatever it did.”

She made her point, and I told her to get out while I checked, and we exchanged positions.  Shining the flashlight, I looked over the fuses, traced them.  And then my eyes narrowed as my fingers felt the rough scratches and broken metal.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone _stole_ the fuse!”

“Well, that’s okay, isn’t it?  You’ve got more, right?  You bought a whole bunch.”

Sometimes, I really couldn’t believe her.  “One, those are for the _house_ , and two, I don’t _have_ any car fuses in the car!”

“You can fix it, can’t you?”

“No.  The … the _mahils_ stuck something in it so I can’t even switch them,” I swore, sitting up.

“Who’d kill your car?”  She paused.  “It’s not going to explode, is it?”

“That’s exactly what they did,” I snapped, sarcastic.  “They stole the fuse to the motor for the top of my car and set it to explode.  Run for your life.”

Frowning, she said, “Well, we should be driving, then, because it _is_ raining.”

It was, and it was probably going to get harder.  I growled to myself, getting out to slam the hood and trunk down. I almost closed it before I took a deep breath, seeing the mess.  “Would you like a blanket, before we get going?”

“I’ll be fine, for a little.  Let’s go.”

And so we drove, in the rain with the top down.  And the wetter we got, the speed made us cold.  And it started to rain harder, and we were both soaked.

“This is an interesting end to the evening, at least,” Matilda said, teeth chattering and hair plastered back.

“When I find the human that did this …,” I vowed.

“It was probably at the beach.  You _did_ leave the top down.”

“What kind of human does this?  I’m going to have fix it, possibly get it reupholstered.  Cowardly act.”

“Well, you won’t ever learn who did it.”

I looked at her, face stung by rain.  “That’s what you think.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll find a fingerprint, if it kills me.”

“After the rain, you think you’re going to find anything?  Okay, I’ll stop poking holes in your dream.  Though it is a, ahem, wet one.”

It was raining harder, too hard for it to remain comfortable, and when we went under an overpass, I pulled over.  “Could you at least squeeze the water out outside the car?” I said as Matilda started to wring out her clothes and hair.

“Elfangor, look down.  Our feet already are in puddles.  We’re sitting in puddles.  A little bit more water won’t hurt it.”

I glared.

“ _Fine_.  See, I’m uncomfortably wringing myself, so no more water falls in your precious water-soaked car.  Brr.  And I’m cold.”

So was I.  I turned off the car and went to unlock the trunk, rifling through the bags.  “Ah, here!”  I got out the blankets and went back, giving her one.  “Remind me to buy raincoats to put in the vehicles.”

Matilda wrapped herself up.  “Yeah, that would have solved a few of our problems.  I guess _you_ can’t prepare for everything.”

And so we sat under the bypass, waiting for the rain to let up.  I tried to dry the buttons and panel of the car with the edge of the blanket, while Matilda played with the radio and sang along with some of the songs.  The flashlight sat on the dashboard, giving us a little light.  As time kept going by, it became clear I was going to have to demorph, and I groaned before crawling out of the car.  Matilda turned to look at me, curious, and grabbed the flashlight to follow my progress.

“What are you doi – oh, striptease.  Continue.”

I got the shirt off and rung it out.  “I have to demorph.”

She slid over to take the shirt from me, then leaned over to drape it over the side.  And then she crossed her arms and leaned against the door.  I gave her a look as I balanced on one foot to get off a shoe and sock. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“I see.”  The next shoe and sock, and then I started to take off my pants.  Matilda held out an arm and I gave them to her.

“Are you just going to demorph here?”

I sighed.  “No.  Someone might see.”

“Because we’ve seen so many other cars.  At midnight.  In the pouring rain.  But yes, better safe than sorry.  Go, demorph, and then come back dripping wet.  Go, go.  Come back soon.”

“You are a very strange human, do you know?”

“Yes.  Go.  Wait, do you need the flashlight?”

“You keep it.”

Shaking my head, I limped out from under the bridge and felt the instant drench of the cool rain before carefully navigating through the long grass and down the ditch.  The water was up to my shins and cold, the stupid human hair was being plastered over my eyes, and I was getting chilled.  “Enough of this.”

It was better as an Andalite.  My fur protected me from the cold, my eyes were better-equipped to see through the rain.  In fact, now the weather did not seem so bad.  It was actually … light.  I chuckled to myself and walked up and down the ditch, enjoying the feeling.

And now it was time to morph again, because I could hear Matilda calling, sounding concerned. 

Human again, I climbed out of the ditch, though I did fall.  Stupid human form.  Arms wrapped around my shoulders and teeth chattering, I ran as fast as I could back under the bridge.  Matilda was outside of the car, and she quickly wrapped the blanket around me. 

“What took you so long?”

“N-Nothing,” I chattered.  For a moment, I thought about changing into the dry clothes in the trunk, but then realized they would just get wet.

“Well, I was getting worried.  Come on, get in.”  She sat me down before going to the other side and getting it.  “Do you need another blanket?”

“I’m f-f-fine.”

“Yes, you are.  Completely fine.”   She rubbed my arm through the blanket.

“I d-don’t know how you humans ev-evolved without at least _some_ fur,” I moaned.

“Some humans are hairy than others.  You just didn’t pick one of them to acquire. Just one with eyebrows like caterpillars.”

“They are _not_ like caterpillars.”

“Yes, yes they are.  But don’t worry, they give you character,” she consoled.  “Here, put your hands on the heater.  There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”  It would be, until my hands felt like they were on fire.

“It’s not that bad, you know.”

“It isn’t?”

“We could be _not_ under an overpass.”

Yes, that was true.  “Are you cold?”

“Chilled, but I’ll be fine.  My clothes are getting less damp, anyway.  But tomorrow, I’ll probably be sick.”

“I’ll make chicken soup.”

She played with the flashlight, shining it on the concrete above us.  “Does that really have any benefit?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps it is mind over matter.”  I brushed back my hair.

“At least your hair isn’t all puffy,” Matilda said, pointing the light at my head.  I winced at the light.  “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”  I huddled in the blanket, rubbing my arms for warmth. 

She might have seen my actions, but instead said, “When do you think it’ll let up?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re an Andalite, outdoor creature that lives in nature, and you can’t tell?”

I chuckled.  “I’m not an expert in Earth weather.  On my world, this would be nothing.  It’d be over in about three hours.”

“Three hours?”

“We have short storms, at least during this time of year.  Or, what time of year I think we’re at.”  I gave a small smile.

“When was the last time you were home?”

“I was on the homeworld just before we came to Earth.”

“No.  I meant _home_.  Your scoop or whatever you call home.”

“Oh.”  I sighed and looked down, playing with the edges of the blanket.  “Years.  Aximili was just a child.  It was one of few times I saw him in person.  I did speak with my family often though.  I made many communications, whenever I could.  And sometimes they would come to the ports and spend time with me before I had to depart.”

“Sounds lonely.”

I shrugged.  “It wasn’t pleasant, but all of the warriors must make do.  It is not like the humans in your armies are any different.”

“But I don’t think they stay away as long as you guys.  I mean, you haven’t been home in like ten years?”

“Give or take.”

“Don’t you ever miss your parents?”

“Of course,” I said, surprised, turning towards her.  “They are my parents.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Matilda said.  She was curled sideways in her seat.  “What are they like?  Your parents.”

“Like parents,” I shrugged.

“Elfangor,” she scolded.

“How am I supposed to describe them?” I countered.  “They are themselves.”

Maybe she understood.  “How did they meet?”

“My grandparents had been mutual acquaintances.  My father had been near the end of his military service, and they decided to arrange their bonding.”

She was surprised.  “You have arranged marriages?”

“Of a fashion.  Andalite families are generally far apart from each other and require what you humans call networking.  Sometimes parents might converse and agree their children would do well together.”

The light from the flashlight made her look a bit saddened.  “Then your parents didn’t even love each other?”

I gave a little laugh.  “The children do have _some_ say.  If we didn’t, I would have been bonded by my mother a hundred times over.  My parents did not have the … the passion humans seem to believe they need to have for marriage, but they liked each other.  They had known each other most of their childhoods.”

Matilda shook her head.  “I guess I never really thought … they’re happy now, aren’t they?”

“Companionship is usually the start, or so it goes.  And just because my parents bonded that way does not mean all Andalites do.  Several of my friends found mates through ways you would be more familiar with.  But, yes, I think they are happy with each other and would go through the grieves if one passed.”

“The grieves?” she repeated. 

“Like mourning, but deeper.  We are a psychic race.  Mates end up bonding deeper.”  I shrugged.  “It is merely a mind process.  One grows accustomed to the other, the mind expects it, and when it stops, it can be a shock.  Add that to the passing, already painful, and it makes for a difficult time.  The withdrawal process can even occur when one goes off to the Academy, and some parents feel it very acutely.”

“Did yours?”

I shook my head.  “They missed me, naturally, but I don’t think they were very traumatized by it.  Neither was I, but then again, I was very distracted when I started.  It was all very exciting, finally being away.”  I smiled at the memory.  “I never was so far away, especially not in a Port.  My parents didn’t travel much, not like other parents.  They didn’t have to.  I spent most of my life surrounded by the same few hundred Andalites, spread over many miles.  And then I was in the Academy, with thousands of Andalites.”

“Did you like it?”

“The novelty wore off soon, but I did not care.  I had studies to distract me.”

“You are such a geek.”

“Perhaps.”

Matilda was quiet for a moment.  “Why didn’t you?  Bond with who your mother found for you,” she clarified.

For a moment, I felt a bit sick.  At first I had never wanted to be unfaithful to Loren, even the memory.  Eventually I figured I would bond, but I had always pushed it back.  “I thought myself too young.  And I was always away, anyway.  That wouldn’t be fair to whoever she was. And I might have died.  I didn’t want to give the world another widow.  It is what I say now.  Father understands that, I think.  Mother, though … she understands, in her own way, but she does not want me to … to miss out on something so important, either.”

“She wants grandkids.”

I laughed a little.  “Possibly.”

“So how did all the girls react when you, the great warrior, said no?”

“I wasn’t that important back then.  And it wasn’t like I left them at the alter.  It was amiable.”  I paused.  “Of course, a few I didn’t actually meet face-to-face, either.”

Matilda snickered.  “You didn’t even meet them?  I thought you were supposed to know them, at least a little.”

“I might have met them, once, when I was hardly talking,” I acknowledged.  “They were mostly daughters of my parents’ friends.  Honestly, I doubt I would have agreed for any of them, even if I wasn’t in this war.”

“Why not?  They weren’t nice?”

I tried to remember them.  “The first one was Natulone; she was always annoying.  I remember hating her as a child, which my mother believed meant I secretly loved her.”

“You mean you didn’t?” Matilda teased.

 “No.”  Even I laughed.  “Natulone was … let me put it this way – she was how humans find Andalites, except ten times worse.  Always right, always first, always superior.”

“Maybe she was nicer when she grew up?”

My voice was firm, solemn.  “No.”

“She might have been.  Who else?”

“There was Sataleen.  She was nice, a daughter of my father’s friend.  I did like her, as a friend, not a potential mate, and she desired someone else.  I took the blame for the cancellation.  Her love was her father’s second choice.”

“Why didn’t she just tell her parents?”

“Sataleen was always obedient, but at that time she had just lost her mother.  Because of a Yeerk attack.  Her father was grieving and she did not want to cause him more pain.  And she knew I would decline the match.”  I caught Matilda’s look.  “I said she was obedient.  I didn’t say she was stupid.  Sataleen was very manipulative, even when she was little.  We always did want she wanted.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

“Then there was Beelix.”  I smiled at that memory.  “I could never have bonded her.”

“Why not?”

“She was always active, doing things.  Beelix demanded travel, could never stay in one space for long.  She was fun, yes, but frivolous.  Yet she was, I will admit, very refreshing.  Just also very exhausting.  Actually, she refused me.  Thought I was too boring.”

Matilda laughed.  “She had you pegged!”

“Perhaps.  Maybe her parents had hoped that, with me, she would have settled down.”

“Because you’re so boring,” she nodded.  “Is she still running around?”

I shrugged.  “I suppose.  Mother would know.  Then again, this is not the time for a life she would desire, with the war.”  Ignoring Matilda’s expression, I continued, “The rest I never formally met, not as an adult, anyway.  There was Tiphami, the geneticist; Lillisan, the water-way designer; Potyeli, the deep space quantum astronomer; Fedinanom, the xenobiologist; and Ionim, the doctor.  After that I started setting my hoof down and said no more arrangements.  Now I just deal with name-dropping, and I cannot remember all of them, there are so many.”

She gave a little whistle.  “Eight times?  Well, I’ll give your mom perseverance.”

“That she does have.”  I wrapped myself tighter in the blanket, feeling the cold and the loneliness at such silly memories.

“Still cold?”

“Not as much.”  I tried to smile.  “A heater’s not that much good in a convertible with its top down.”

She giggled.  “No, they’re not.  And let that be a lesson to you.”

“As if you would have let me take you out in the van or your car.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

 “So this is really your fault,” I smiled.

“Maybe just fifteen-percent.”

“Fifty.”

“Twenty.”

“Fifty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Fifty.”

She tried not to smile.  “You’re not doing this right.  You’re supposed to compromise.”

“I never compromise.  Fifty.”

“Thirty.”

“Deal.”

“You just compromised!”

“No.  I got you to accept your fair amount of the blame.  Thirty-percent seems reasonable.”

“So you acknowledge that this is _not_ entirely my fault?”

I shrugged and smiled a little.  “I did leave the top down.  And I bought the thing.  And I let myself get talked into this.  And I am soft-hearted.”

“Modest and gallant, too.”  She leaned forward and her hand came up to my head, and I almost flinched.  But she merely brushed my damp bangs aside.  “I am happy we did this, though.  So thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  Unbidden, I felt my head leaning into her hand, as her fingers traced my cheek, and it warmed my skin, my body.

“You did have fun, didn’t you?”

“I suppose so.  The food was nice.  And the ice cream.”

Her hand was playing with my hair.  “Not the pool or the karao—”

“Don’t say it.”

Matilda smirked.  “I’ve got a surprise for you about that, but all right.  Do you know your hair curls?”

“Only slightly.”

“It’s cute.  It makes you look younger.”

“Do I normally look old?”

She thought about it.  “No, not really.  Not really fair.  You don’t have wrinkles, grey hair, or anything.”

“You don’t, either.”

She pshawed me.  “I dye my hair.  There’s probably grey in there somewhere. And I’d point out wrinkles, but I don’t want to be depressed.  And don’t even mention the sagginess.”

“Sagginess?” I queried. 

“I told you not to mention it.”

“… Sorry?”

“No you’re not, but that’s okay.”  She looked at me.  “What would happen if we cut your hair?  Would you still look the same when you morph again?”

“I don’t know.  Why?”

“Just curious.”  Then she grinned.  “If you did, we could sell your hair to the wig-making people.  They’d love it, since it’s pose-able.”

I laughed.  “Is it?”

“Yes.  See?”  She moved closer and then her hands were ruffling my still damp hair.  I laughed and tried to push her away.  “See, horns.”  She tilted the mirror so I could see, shining the flashlight down on me.

“Not very good proof.  Or horns.”

She stuck her tongue out at me and messed up my hair.  “Ass.”

“Andalite.”

“Same difference.”

It was then I noticed a sound was missing.  “It’s not raining hard anymore.”

Matilda turned her head and looked disappointed.  “Yeah, I guess so.  We should probably go then, huh?”

“We don’t want to get stranded.  And the children might worry.”

“Yeah.”  She slid down in her seat, curled up with the blanket.  “Well, I’m ready.”

I turned and grabbed my shirt to put it on.  It was still damp, but hopefully it would give me a little warmth.  “Let’s go.”

The rain remained gentle the rest of the way home.  Matilda seemed dissatisfied, looking out on her side.  I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but instead focused on the drive.  In twenty minutes, we were in the garage.

“We’re back.”

“Yes,” I said, turning the car off.

“And we’re soaked again.”  She giggled a bit.  “I’m going to go take a shower, get warmed up.”

“Okay.  And can you put my clothes into the dryer,” I said, handing over the wet stack.  “I’m going to try to salvage my car.”

Matilda smiled.  “It’s a lost cause.  You’ve lost another Mustang.”

I sighed.  “They do tend to get damaged when I take females out.”

“On the bright side, you weren’t shot at.  And I was better company that Wetmore, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were,” I said, meaning every word.

“I’ll put some water through the coffee maker.  We can have hot cocoa before we go to bed.”

“That’d be lovely.”

She disappeared and I started the slow process of drying the car.  I used the blankets, trying to soak up as much water as possible, before hunting out dish towels in the house.  It was no use.  The water had seeped into the upholstery and would remain damp.  I could only hope, if it air-dried, it wouldn’t cause too much damage.

I left my shoes on the mat by the door inside and went towards the kitchen.  At my arrival, Champ rushed down the steps and bounced around me. 

“Hello, boy.  Yes, you’re good.  Want a treat?  Here,” I smiled, going in his treat bin.  He, used to my demands, sat instantly with an eager face, and I gave him the food.  “Good boy.”

The water was already run through, and I started to make the drink.  Even though it was instant cocoa, it was gratifying, and I sat to drink it.  Champ collapsed at my feet.  When Matilda came down wrapped in her robe, I handed her the mug.

“No marshmallows?”

“Aximili found them, I think.”

“I thought you had a hidden stash?”

“Found them.”

“What about your hidden hidden stash?”

“You know about that?”

She grinned. “I do now.”

“He found that as well.  I think he’s morphing to find everything.”

“Probably.”  She looked around.  “Well, they didn’t trash the place.”

“You honestly didn’t think they would, did you?”

She shrugged.  “You never know with teenagers.  Tobias is upstairs, sleeping.”

I nodded, finishing the last of my drink.  “I’m going to bed.  See you in the morning.”

“We should do this again.  Except, you know, without the getting caught in the rain with the top down part.”

“If you like.  And without the, _let’s make Elfangor do silly things so I can laugh_ , part as well.”

“So, you don’t want to make yourself do silly things?”

I shook my head, smiling. She knew what I meant. “Good night.”

“Night.”

 ****

Matilda slept late the next day.  I wasn’t surprised, considering we got in when it was nearly two in the morning.  Despite all the fine words, there was no way she would have managed to be up at seven, unlike me.  I went through my morning routine without any problems, though I did start breakfast late, because apparently Tobias had also had a late night.  (I didn’t care to let the meal get cold.)

With an impeccable timing, my brother came in.  I had missed him in the morning run, and we greeted each other pleasantly.

“No one else is awake?” he asked as he petted Champ.  The dog was hoping for, and receiving, bits by staying near me.

I shrugged.  “Humans.  What can I say? They waste daylight.  Here, put this on the table.”  I gave him the covered dish.  “I’m sure they will be up soon.”

He helped me set the table – I should get around to buying a bigger one, as there was hardly any room for all the dishes – and then we sat down to eat.

“How was your date last night?”

I sputtered and choked.  “Date?”

Aximili nodded and sat innocently.

“It wasn’t a date,” I explained.

“It wasn’t?”

“No.  Who said it was?” I asked suspiciously.

He waved a hand and started to cut his food. “Said what?”  But before I could answer, he continued, “I’ve also watched television, and I thought it _was_ a date.  What you and Loren were doing.”

“It wasn’t.  It was just two adults going out.”  I knew I was going to regret it, but I asked, “And what does the television say a date is?”

“It is a romantic event, typified by dinner, movie, and/or karaoke, and usually culminating in a night of –”

“That’s enough!  And it _wasn’t_ a date.”  Even if two of the four things happened.  That made it something like half a date.  “You watch too much television.”

For a moment, Aximili looked amused by my assertion.  Then I realized he was probably aware of how much the other children watched.  “Did you enjoy yourselves?  You did not get back until after midnight.”

“It was pleasant.  We would have been back early, but we had some car issues.”

“You couldn’t fix it?” he said, surprised.

I scowled.  “Some human stole the fuse to run the motor for the convertible top.  We were stranded under a bridge until the rain let up.  Not that it mattered, because we were already soaked.”

For a very long moment Aximili was silent.  “Have you killed the human?” he finally said.

“Not yet.”

He nodded sagely, and we ate for a few minutes.  I periodically fed Champ bits of food – he was just staring at me with those eyes, I felt pressured to – until there was movement from upstairs.  Tobias appeared, yawning.  “All right, brunch.  Did you have fun last night?” he asked as he sat and helped himself to the foods.

“It was pleasant,” I repeated.

“What did you guys do?”

“We went to a supper club, ate, then went to the beach.  There was … music there.  After some ice cream, we came home.”

Tobias nodded, and then stopped.  “You guys must have been really out of town, if you were on the beach so late.  Started raining here at like eleven, and it was still going when I went to bed.”

“We did get caught in the rain,” I said evenly.

“A human removed a piece of equipment that makes the top go up,” Aximili added.

“You didn’t make a John Doe, did you?” Tobias asked.

“No.  I don’t know who it was.  Yet.”

“That’s ominous.”

“Yes,” Aximili agreed.

I ignored their statements and they focused on eating.  Once finished, Aximili helped me clear the table, putting the leftovers into their Tupperware and allowing Champ to do what Matilda called the “pre-wash,” while Tobias disappeared upstairs to get dressed. 

The noise of the shower probably woke Matilda up, because she came downstairs while he was up, still dressed in her night clothes.  “Good morning, Ax, Elfangor.”

“If you had stayed in bed another half an hour, you couldn’t greet us like that,” I commented.

“It’s morning _somewhere_.”

“Did you have a nice evening, Loren?” Aximili said.

“Wonderful.  Thank you for asking.  I think we’re going to do it again.”

“Don’t I get a say?” I asked.

“No.”

“I see.  We have some sausages, eggs, and hash browns left, if you’d like.  Or do you need chicken soup?”

She appeared to think about it.  “I’m not hungry right now.  I’ll dig them out later.”

“Very well.”  I leaned into the refrigerator.

Aximili finished picking up the dishes Champ had cleaned.  “I have a question.  What exactly constitutes a date?”

I nearly dropped the containers I was putting away, while Matilda asked, “What?”

“Elfangor says you two did not go a date, but that is not what the others said.  And it seemed to greatly coincide with how television describes such an event.”

I wondered if I could subtly strangle him.

“And how’s that?” She sounded amused.

“From what I’ve seen, a date is a romantic event, usually consisting of a dinner, movie, and/or karaoke, and often culminating in a night of –”

“I get it,” Matilda interrupted, holding back her laugh.  I was cautiously peeking out from behind the door of the refrigerator, and had to force myself not to duck back when she met my eye.  “A date can be called a date if none of those things happen, Ax.”

“Then how does one know to call it a date, if there is no unifying itinerary?”

“I think we can consider something a date if the two people call it one.  In fact, even if only one person says it’s a date and the other denies it vehemently, it probably was.”  I glared at her from behind Aximili’s back, but she just sat coyly.

“That doesn’t seem to make much sense.”

“It usually doesn’t.”

Aximili thought about it.  “So … do you think it was a date?”

I wanted to disappear, but then part of me wanted to hear.  But I probably just looked panicked. 

“I don’t know,” Matilda said cheerfully.  “It’s been so long, I don’t think I can trust my own opinion.” 

 _She was mocking me!_ It was clear in her voice and I scowled hard at her.

My brother nodded, though he looked a bit disappointed.  “So then how will you know?”

“We’ll figure it out, eventually.  Elfangor, I think I will have some of those sausages.”

“Coming right up,” I said with a forced smile.

Aximili looked between us and then said, “I think I will take Champ outside.”

“Thank you, Ax,” Matilda said.

“How many sausages would you like?” I asked, placing them onto a clean plate.

“Four.”

“Here, they are still warm.  And you should not tease Aximili like that.”

She raised a brow.  “I wasn’t teasing him, silly.”

“Yes, you were.”

Chewing and then swallowing innocently, Matilda waved the fork at me.  “I would _never_ counter something you told your brother.”

Yes, she would.  “Yes, you would.”

“Elfangor, if you want to know what I think last night was, you can just ask.”

“I don’t want to know you what think last night was.  I don’t _care_ ,” I sputtered.

“Shakespeare says you doeth protest a bit too much.”

“I do not!”  I waved a hand, frustrated with all of this.  “I’m going into town to get a new fuse.”

Her voice was annoyingly perky.  “Bye!”

I was about to leave, before I stopped.  “And I have it on good authority that it is not a date unless both people agree that it was.”

She turned in her chair.  “And who told you that?”

“You did.”  _There.  Let her stew on that!_

 ****

 

 

 

**[~.~.~]**

A/N: This is NOT part of the chapter, but an AU of it, which I wrote when I was trying to decide what I wanted to happen. It has mature content, for those that are upset about the way this date went. There's no need to read it to understand the rest of the story, so feel free to skip or read.

Enjoy!

**[~.~.~]**

And so we sat under the bypass, waiting for the rain to let up. I tried to dry the buttons and panel of the car with the edge of the blanket, while Matilda played with the radio and sang along with some of the songs. The flashlight sat on the dashboard, giving us a little light. As time kept going by, it became clear I was going to have to demorph, and I groaned before crawling out of the car. Matilda turned to look at me, curious, and grabbed the flashlight to follow my progress.

"What are you doi - oh, striptease. Continue."

I got the shirt off and rung it out. "I have to demorph."

She slid over to take the shirt from me, then leaned over to drape it over the side. And then she crossed her arms and leaned against the door. I gave her a look as I balanced on one foot to get off a shoe and sock.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"I see." The next shoe and sock, and then I started to take off my pants. Matilda held out an arm and I gave them to her.

"Are you just going to demorph here?"

I sighed. "No. Someone might see."

"Because we've seen so many other cars. At midnight. In the pouring rain. But yes, better safe than sorry. Go, demorph, and then come back dripping wet. Go, go. Come back soon."

"You are a very strange human, do you know?"

"Yes. Go. Wait, do you need the flashlight?"

"You keep it."

Shaking my head, I limped out from under the bridge and felt the instant drench of the cool rain before carefully navigating through the long grass and down the ditch. The water was up to my shins and cold, the stupid human hair was being plastered over my eyes, and I was getting chilled. "Enough of this."

It was better as an Andalite. My fur protected me from the cold, my eyes were better-equipped to see through the rain. In fact, now the weather did not seem so bad. It was actually ... light. I chuckled to myself and walked up and down the ditch, enjoying the feeling.

And now it was time to morph again, because I could hear Matilda calling, sounding concerned.

Human again, I climbed out of the ditch, though I did fall. Stupid human form. Arms wrapped around my shoulders and teeth chattering, I ran as fast as I could back under the bridge. Matilda was outside of the car, and she quickly wrapped the blanket around me.

"What took you so long?"

"N-Nothing," I chattered. For a moment, I thought about changing into the dry clothes in the trunk, but then realized they would just get wet.

"Well, I was getting worried. Come on, get in." She sat me down before going to the other side and getting it. "Do you need another blanket?"

"I'm f-f-fine."

"Yes, you are. Completely fine." She rubbed my arm through the blanket.

"I d-don't know how you humans ev-evolved without at least some fur," I moaned.

"Some humans are hairy than others. You just didn't pick one of them to acquire. Just one with eyebrows like caterpillars."

"They are _not_ like caterpillars."

"Yes, yes they are. But don't worry, they give you character," she consoled. "Here, put your hands on the heater. There, that's better, isn't it?"

"I suppose." It would be, until my hands felt like they were on fire.

"It's not that bad, you know."

"It isn't?"

"We could be _not_ under an overpass."

Yes, that was true. "Are you cold?"

"Chilled, but I'll be fine. My clothes are getting less damp, anyway. But tomorrow, I'll probably be sick."

"I'll make chicken soup."

She played with the flashlight, shining it on the concrete above us. "Does that really have any benefit?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it is mind over matter." I brushed back my hair.

"At least your hair isn't all puffy," Matilda said, pointing the light at my head. I winced at the light. "Sorry."

"It's all right." I huddled in the blanket, rubbing my arms for warmth.

Her hand was on my skin. "Jeez, you're like ice. You're going to get pneumonia."

"I will be fine," I said, staring at her hand in the darkness. If I was ice, she was fire.

"You'd say that if you were on fire."

I looked up, surprised at the words. "Would I?"

She shook her head at me. "Yes. You would. And now you'll probably die from this and it'll be all my fault."

"I was not aware you controlled the weather. Or were you the one that stole the fuse?" I leaned forward, pretending to be mad at the sudden realization.

Laughing, she pushed her hands against me. "You caught me. It was my fault. I knew that fuse-thing would strand us out here."

"You admit it?" I growled, playful in the game.

"I do! This is my night."

"And you chose to sabotage my car!"

"How else could I keep you all to myself?" she said, teasing.

And then it stopped being a game, with those words. Our situation came to us, our positions. Leaning over towards her, blanket draped and open where her hands were against my bare human chest. We weren't so close that our noses could touch, but we weren't far enough away to pretend that we weren't close. The rain, loud on the road above us, didn't block the sound of our breathing, nor the radio playing the soft old human songs.

"… _I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you. Earth angel, Earth angel, the one I adore. Love you forever and evermore …"_

My breath caught in my throat at the timing and irony of it. It wasn't our song, but it might have been mine. I remembered awkwardly requesting it and asking her dance, back when it was new and uncertain. Not much had changed.

There wasn't enough light to see her face, but touch can be more powerful than sight. The warm heat of her hands still against me, the feel of her breath. And scent. The rain strengthened her shampoo, brought out the laundry soap, and under them the human scent.

She moved a little, came a little closer. And then her hands moved haltingly up until they were at my face. Did she pull me forward or was I already moving? Our lips met, tentative at first, and then it didn't matter. Her arms wrapped around me while I pulled her towards me.

Damp clothes that were cold until I got under them to skin, burning and hot. The warmth drew me in, but we couldn't get closer. The gear shift and seats separated us, the steering wheel made it hard for me to turn and for her to move where she wanted, wherever that was, because we both jumped when she accidentally honked the horn with perhaps her elbow and our foreheads and noses hit.

And then we were staring through the darkness at each other. The flashlight was on the floor, pointing to the passenger door. But I knew when she blinked, could feel her lashes.

"…Oops," she whispered. "Are you …"

"I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yeah." Her hand was brushing my hair, and water dripped down my back and neck. The feeling made goose bumps and other things come up on me. The latter … did she notice? My face was warming, my thoughts circling.

"I can't move," I said. My hands belied my statement, twitching over her back.

"There isn't much room," she agreed.

There were memories of learning where there was more room in a vehicle, what the room could be used for. "The front is not very spacious."

"Andalites like space, don't they?" Her voice was soft and rough.

"Yes. Very much."

She was pulling me up and I was pushing her back, and somehow we tripped and tangled into a puddle on the back seat. The water was cold and it made me gasp, but she attacked me, crawled into my lap and pressed against me. I pulled her closer, kissed her with a hunger. Devouring her.

There was gasping and moaning and she was pushing me down unto that wet seat and pressing her thigh just so that I had to bite into her shirt like a gag to keep from yelping, hands gripping her hips so she's do it again.

Fluttering in the back of my mind, there was some small distant order, demanding I stop this, this was unbecoming of a warrior, this was wrong, stop stop stop. But everything else was louder, and that voice … I was sick of orders, of responsibility and respectability. Cold comforts to this … this fire.

Someone tossed her shirt aside – her, me, both of us? – and my fingers were tampering with small hooks and clasps and freeing her. She gasped in shock when my hands touched her. She said I felt like ice? She was the one with cold skin, who must have been so uncomfortable. I wanted to warm her or maybe cool myself.

A backseat is small and uncomfortable, nothing that should be used if you want to spread out or move or remove lower garments, but with a convertible, you could always reach for air before tangling back down. Soon the only warmth was between us, burning hands and bruising grips and nibbles and hot breath. Sounds that might have been words but were victims of vocal chords without control.

Some time later – less than two hours, I knew that, that I did not forget or ignore the warning voice – we were under a blanket, conserving warmth. She was lying atop me, head under my chin and nails ghosting over my chest, one of my arms lose around her waist and a hand toying with the ends of her hair, nape of her neck, sliding up and down the line of her spine.

My tongue was thick in my mouth, throat tight. With the calm after that storm, my head was becoming a muddle for the horrid responsibility and respectability I had tossed aside like those clothes. I should speak, but I didn't want to. Speaking _ended_ it, this. No more warmth, no more companionship. Just cold loneliness.

Andalite hate cold. And loneliness.

"I wish this didn't have to end," Loren said quietly.

"Yes."

I felt her smile. "You admit it?"

"I don't deny it."

She curled into me, perhaps because of my admittance. It made me hate myself for the next words.

"This can't happen again."

"Why not? We're both consenting adults."

"It's irresponsible and dangerous."

"That's why we should."

She would have that argument. "It's wrong."

"It didn't stop us before."

I stiffened at the memory, at how terrible I was. "I should have not let it get to that level."

"I was glad you did."

I had been as well.

"I'm not stupid, Elfangor. I know this has problems. We're not Romeo and Juliet. This isn't going to end well."

"It did not end well for them, if I recall correctly."

"At least they were the same species. This war ends, you leave."

"If I live."

"Shut up. Don't talk like that." She buried her face against me. "I know this isn't normal, but everything stopped be normal a long time ago. And this … this is almost the most normal thing I feel in my life."

I hugged her, tried to console her without saying anything. "It's better for us to stop. It'll … hurt less, at the end."

"Better to love and lose than not to love."

I wanted to deny it, but part of me never regretted those years on Earth, even with the pain of loss. "It can't happen again," I said instead.

"I love you," she whispered.

I wanted to yell at her, scream for her not to say it. Part of me might rejoice, some selfish part still trapped in the past, but this was wrong, and I couldn't say it back. My arms tightened and I closed my eyes and just breathed, breathed in everything. Her, the damp rain air, the wet leather of the car, the cotton of the blanket.

When she pulled away, I didn't open my eyes, or when her hands touched my cheeks, damp from sweat and rain and maybe something else, and she kissed me. "One more time," she whispered.

One more time. Just one. Addicts always ask for one more, claim it will be the last. Memories could last, they could abstain. Loren was my addiction and I was too weak. "One more," I agreed. "Just one more time."

" … _and I can't help falling in love with you_ …"

**[~.~.~]**

"How was your date last night?"

I sputtered and choked on my food. "Date?"

Aximili nodded and sat innocently.

"It wasn't a date," I explained, looking towards my plate.

"It wasn't?"

"No. Who said it was?" I asked suspiciously.

He waved a hand and started to cut his food. "Said what?" But before I could answer, he continued, "I've also watched television, and I thought it was a date. What you and Loren were doing."

"It wasn't. It was just two adults going out." I knew I was going to regret it, but I asked, "And what does the television say a date is?"

"It is a romantic event, typified by dinner, movie, and/or karaoke, and usually culminating in a night of -"

My cheeks flamed. "That's enough! And it _wasn't_ a date."

For a moment, Aximili looked amused by my assertion. "Did you enjoy yourselves? You did not get back until after midnight."

"It was … pleasant." More than that, but pleasant was a safe word to use. Even until we got home, when we kissed by the bedroom doors, a kiss far different from the Christmas one. (A kiss I sometimes imagined – in the darkness of night – I had acted differently on.) "You stayed up to wait for us?"

Aximili looked a little embarrassed. "The others left soon, but Tobias and I watched the television until midnight. We thought you would have been back by then and hoped you were enjoying yourselves, not that you were facing Yeerks or other dangers."

We had not considered how our staying out late would worry the children. "I am sorry you were concerned. We were merely distracted."

"As long as your time was enjoyable."

I gave a quick smile and looked back at my plate. He nodded, pleased, and we ate for a few minutes. I periodically fed Champ bits of food - he was just staring at me with those eyes, I felt pressured to - until there was movement from upstairs. Tobias appeared, yawning. "All right, brunch. Did you have fun last night?" he asked as he sat and helped himself to the foods.

"It was pleasant," I repeated.

"What did you guys do?"

"We went to a supper club, ate, then went to the beach. There was ... music there. After some ice cream, we … watched the rain, then came home."

Tobias nodded. "Sounds like fun. When did you get back?"

"It was nearing three. We watched the rain for a long time."

"Guess Mom will be in bed for a while, then."

I smiled. "Perhaps."

"Are you going to do it again?"

My smile faded a bit. "Unlikely." I got myself some more of the mashed potatoes, missing any expression the two gave.

"Why not?" Tobias asked. "You said you had fun."

"It is not as if you could not repeat the experience when the Yeerks are quiet," my brother added.

I ignored their statements and focused on eating. They got the hint and ate as well. Once finished, Aximili helped me clear the table, putting the leftovers into their Tupperware and allowing Champ to do what Matilda called the "pre-wash," while Tobias disappeared upstairs to get dressed.

The noise of the shower probably woke Matilda up, because she came downstairs while he was up, still dressed in her night clothes. "Good morning, Ax, Elfangor." She was surprising sing-song. I expected her to be very grumpy with so little sleep.

"If you had stayed in bed another half an hour, you couldn't greet us like that," I commented, giving her a quick glance and then looking elsewhere.

"It's morning _somewhere_."

"Did you have a nice evening, Loren?" Aximili said.

"Wonderful."

"Then you would go out again, wouldn't you?"

She started and shot me a look. "No, I don't think so. Last night was fun, great, but it was just something I wanted to do. Something different."

"Oh."

"Would you like something to eat?" I asked. "We have some sausages, eggs, and hash browns left, if you'd like. Or do you need chicken soup?"

She appeared to think about it. "I'm not hungry right now. I'll dig them out later."

"Very well." I leaned into the refrigerator.

Aximili finished picking up the dishes Champ had cleaned. "So last night was not a date?"

I nearly dropped the containers I was putting away, while Matilda asked, "What?"

"Elfangor says you two did not go a date, but that is not what the others said. And it seemed to greatly coincide with how television describes such an event. I thought."

I wondered if I could subtly strangle him.

"And how's that?" She sounded amused.

"From what I've seen, a date is a romantic event, usually consisting of a dinner, movie, and/or karaoke, and often culminating in a night of -"

"I get it," Matilda interrupted, holding back her laugh. I was cautiously peeking out from behind the door of the refrigerator, and had to force myself not to duck back when she met my eye. "The word date is just a label, Ax. It's just deciding you'll do something on a specific date. It doesn't have to be romantic. It can be," she said, eyes flickering towards me, "but sometimes, no. Just two people getting away from people that make them feel old."

For a second, my brother looked confused, and then he must have realized that, despite everything, she and I were the only two _adults_ in this group, with different interests than someone his age. "I see. I did not realize …"

"Don't trust everything you see on TV, Ax." She patted his shoulder. "Elfangor, I think I will have some of those sausages."

"Coming right up," I said with a smile.

Aximili looked between us and then said, "I think I will take Champ outside."

"Thank you, Ax," Matilda said.

"How many sausages would you like?" I asked, placing them onto a clean plate.

"Four."

"Here, they are still warm."

Our hands touched when I passed the plate over. We looked at each other, gave a small smile, and then she took the plate and sat down while I went back cleaning the counter. We didn't say anything, for the silence was not uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the version that wasn't? Not sure why I went the way I did -- oh, wait, I know why, angst!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving can be so difficult

 “You got another one,” Matilda said, looking at a letter, the rest of the mail tucked under her arm and still in her night clothes, despite the hour.  Given that our battle made us return only a few hours before dawn, it was logical to understand, but sometimes I wondered at the appropriateness in retrieving the mail in such an outfit.

“Isn’t it a federal offense to read someone else’s mail?” I asked.

“Isn’t it one to hack into their computer network?” she said straight back without missing a beat.  “It’s from that computer company again.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I groaned.  “The Yeerk one, or the Yeerk one?”

“Consult on a new one.  I assume it’s Yeerk.  They want your input on a new computer algorithm or some technical blah-blahs.  Here.”  She gave me a sheet of paper and I skimmed it over.

It was definitely Yeerk, the computations too advanced and streamlined to be human.  A human in the computer industry would have drooled at this tempting sheet, I could see that, if the pay did not tempt them first.  What was amusing was that the Yeerks didn’t know what my alleged specialty in computers was, and yet they sent these to me.  If my specialty had been in installation, none of these offers would have been viable for me.  I must have told Tom something that allowed the Yeerks to narrow their scope, but I couldn’t remember the details.  It had been enough, though, for the parasites to send me schematics on programming.  It was almost what my job had been.

“Why in the name of the Lord do they even need you?” she asked when I set it aside.  I would make the polite decline later.  I was not fool enough to go to a meeting to them, not anymore, not like I had with Wetmore.  This was too much pressure, and I couldn’t risk that danger.  But that wasn’t the worst of everything.

Things were different, and I didn’t like the feeling.  It was like there was a subtle shift in everything, like the pitch was a step up or things had been moved an inch to the right – it just wasn’t _right_.  None of it had happened immediately, everything had been gradual, but it was only now that I was noticing.  The atmosphere was charged, like before an electrical storm, but there was no sign of trouble.  Were we looking at – how did the humans phrase it? – the calm before the storm, or was I merely being over-imaginative?  Was it both?

There was more violence, more humans being taken.  The Yeerks were being less cautious.  They were not yet bold and giving of full frontal attack, but I can’t claim they were being careless.  It was merely like they didn’t care.  Like it didn’t matter anymore, their secrecy.  They didn’t care if humans suddenly noticed the man behind the curtain controlling everything.  And that was bad.  We survived in the Yeerks’ necessity for secrecy.  In an all-out open war, where they would have no reason not to get out the Bug fighters and shoot us from the sky, we would lose.

I hoped it was just my imagination, but I was a veteran of too much to let it delude me.  Even though the Yeerks were learning to shield themselves from my repeated computer attacks, leaving me less aware of their plans, the atmosphere was still different from when I first crashed.  My first avenue of intelligence gone – their computers were starting to be hooked only on a closed network, joined via a Yeerk transponder so they could connect to the Yeerk mainframe, leaving me without a hint; Andalite technological talents had limits – I had to turn to other methods.  Except there weren’t any, or at least many.

Sustained spying was out of the question, and I could not just ask the Chee to do more.  Perhaps overly cautious, but I did not like to rely too much on them.  I didn’t trust their programming, didn’t know how far they went to following it.  And I wasn’t willing to trust them, because, when push came to shove, I believed they would leave us out to dry, as the humans say.  They would save the dogs before they risked saving us.  It was a terrible thought to think of our allies, but, deep down, I believed – knew it to be true. 

So we worked with less and less knowledge and more violent and bloodier fights that occurred more often.   It couldn’t go on.  I _needed_ to know what was going on in the Yeerk plans.  Especially why they wanted to “hire” me.  Because if they got sick of trying to trick me, there was always the option of taking me.  Storming my home in the middle of night, when we were ill-prepared and helpless … I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t but do so.  Thinking about it was my job.

We would have been asleep.  Perhaps Champ would give us warning, before he … couldn’t.  If Tobias was here … and of course his mother would be … would we have enough time to morph?  Would we be seen?  And if we were, they would know the other children were friends with us and would take them.  Would we have time to warn them, especially Jake, who was in the same house with Tom?

This house was becoming less safe each day, and I feared we would soon have to leave it.  I did not like the prospect, but I was preparing.  New electronics and camping gear, those M.R.E.s and water-purifying tablets and fire starters were slowly being bought and stored.  All that was left was deciding when we had to leave, which, whenever it was, would be soon.

“So what’s the pay this time?”

I took up the letter again to read what was supposed to be a tempting line.  “Enough for a trip to the Bahamas.  And Yeerk in my brain.”

“Almost tempting, isn’t it?  I look good in a bathing suit.”

“Yes, you do,” I agreed, setting the letter aside.

She sat and stretched her legs out on a chair.  “I need a tan, too.  Look at this.  Pasty white.”

I examined her legs and found nothing to complain about.  “They’re fine, for human legs.  Shapely and athletic.”

“And hairy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with hair on one’s legs.  And there isn’t any, anyway.”

“Yes, there is.  Right there, see it’s growing back.”  She indicated by her shin, and, peering closer, there was perhaps a faint hint of fuzz.

“Humans,” I scoffed, looking up to meet her eyes.  “And their vanity.”

She grinned at me and pushed against me with her foot.  “Andalites are just as vain.”

“Not about things like that, something that is perfectly natural,” I said, catching her ankle.

Her toes wiggled.  “Given that you think our entire evolution is faulty since we don’t have tails to keep up upright, you’ll have to trust me that this is just another one of those big mistakes.”

“Do you know _why_ humans don’t topple over with two legs?”

“Because we have better balance than four-legged Andalites, silly.”

“It’s because humans have huge, what’s the word, butts?”

Her jaw dropped and she tried to kick me, but I caught that leg as well and grinned.

“It’s true.  It keeps you from falling forward when you run.”

Matilda frowned at me.  “You are so not telling me my big rear is so I can run better, because I think actually it makes it harder.”

I shrugged.  “As you pointed out, your evolution was poorly done.  A tail would have been better.”

“Maybe.”  We looked at each other before she tugged her leg.  “You can let go, if you like.”

Letting go of her and sitting back, I shook my head at her.  She merely grinned like a cheshire cat and crossed her legs.  I took my eyes off them to look back at the letter. “I can’t keep getting these.”

“I know.”  She turned serious.  “I mean, jeez, you’re next to useless.  This keeps up and you’ll become unbearable thinking you’re important.”

“Remind me – who actually owns this house and has money to buy everything?”

“Oh, no!  It’s too late.”  After her theatrics, she sighed.  “How much has the danger scale gone up?”

I rubbed my forehead.  “It’s getting harder to say.  This … we have to find out what this is.  I can’t keep risking everything.  It’s irresponsible.  Dangerous.”

“Last night was no picnic either.  I don’t know how you got Tobias to school.  I could barely crawl out of bed.  Or sleep.”  Her voice trailed off and she toyed with the hem of her shirt.

After a moment, I patted her leg.  “If it is any consolation, he will probably sleep in class.  Even the interesting ones.”

“They have those in high school?”

“They’re trying something new.  I’ll call the Chee and see if they can give us some place we can break in.”

“You could just ask them.”

“Perhaps.”

“Elfangor …”

I met her gaze.  “The Chee will never become a promoted Controller.  They can’t risk being sent off-world or losing their current Yeerk for a new one.  They can’t get everything.  What’s worse is that they won’t try, either.  They won’t risk gaining any information that will make us fight Yeerks too proactively.  Erek does what he can, but in the end, he’s not giving us much.  Not anymore.  I think … I think they’re trying to keep us safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have self-preservation.  If we’re taken, the Yeerks will know the truth about them.  We know the way to their Park, the general location of their ship.  Do you think the Yeerks will not take part in a mass slaughter of dogs to draw them out of hiding, striking at the Chee’s weakness?”  I gave a bitter smile.  “By giving us less information, we have less risk of being captured.  And with less information, we kill fewer Controllers and Yeerks.  Theoretically.”

“Sometimes, I hate you,” she whispered bitterly, “for thinking those kinds of things about our friends.”

“Me, too.  I know we’re allies, but allies with different agendas.  I _have_ to know theirs, or what I think it is.  The children and Aximili and yourself … that is my priority.  And they know that too.”

“War sucks.”

“Hate the war, love the warrior.  It is the way it is.”  And with that, I went to the phone.

 ****

Arriving at the club, if the situation had not started to become dire, I would have turned around and demanded another location.  This place made my stomach turn.  It showed humans at their worst and weakest.  Druggies and prostitutes and violence and bitterness surrounded me.  While a Chee might be safe here, normal mortals certainly weren’t.

“That man just tried to sell me crack,” Matilda hissed, leaning against me at the bar.  She had to, because the blaring music made it impossible to hear anyone further than five inches away.  Part of me wished she had stayed home, but she argued that I needed someone to watch my back, as I only had two eyes as a human and Andalites always need four, so shut up and get in the car.

“Did you buy some?”

She reared back.  “No!  What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” I said, feeling my skin crawl. 

“Do you want some?” she asked sarcastically.

I blinked.  “Gods, no.  Do you know how you humans make that stuff?”

“No, I don’t,” she said deadpanned.  “When I offered my help, I didn’t think it’d be someplace like this.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted.  If I had, I would never have allowed her to come along, even with her arguments. I was glad I did not tell the children or Aximili of the location.  “I can’t believe they would operate here.”

“Do you think they’re part of the local drug ring?”

“Entirely possible.  I think I’ve figured out the way to their basement.  All I want is a look at their files, and we can leave.” 

 “Right.  Let’s get this done.  I need a shower after this.”

Carefully, we made our way to the door and slipped hopefully unnoticed through it.  I was wrong.  It wasn’t a basement passage, but a hall.  Holding Matilda’s hand, we went down, entering and trying to find any sort of computer.  There was one in the third room, and we went inside, shut the door.

“Keep a look-out,” I ordered needlessly, rushing to the computer and typing away.  Simple human nonsense.  Digging deeper, the familiar Yeerk security – I snicker at the term – appeared.  Good, I did not want this to be a wasted effort.  As delightful as it would be telling the Chee they had been wrong, it was more important that they be right.

“Hurry up,” Matilda urged.

“I’m going as fast as this primitive thing will let me!” I snapped back.  “You’d think the Yeerks could at least spend money to get top-of-the-line computers.  This is from the eighties.”

“They’re trying to take over Earth.  They probably have to cut costs somewhere.”

I made a noise, busying finding files.  Once I located the directory, I dug out the disks and started copying files.  I had gone through six of them before Matilda hissed.  “Someone’s coming.  Hurry up.”  She rushed over, as if that could make me move faster.

I withheld a swear, scrambling to get the disks and get back into the welcome screen, to make it look as if nothing had been broken into.

“Hurry, hurry,” she urged frantically.

“Just get out, don’t wait for me,” I ordered, typing quickly.  Damn you programs, change over faster.

“How? There’s one door!”

“You can morph, can’t you?”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

I wanted to snap my tail at her, but, of course, I was in the wrong form and, anyway, such an activity would just waste time.  “There, there! Done.  Quick, hide.”

At least she hadn’t wasted her time needlessly panicking, because Matilda grabbed my arm and dragged us to the closet.  Just for a second, I instinctively stopped, my dislike of closed-in spaces overcoming me, but my senses quickly returned, and before she could glare at me we were inside, in the dark.  (Dark was good.  It meant I could not see how close the walls were.  All I had to do was not think about it.)

We stood controlling our breathing, controlling our panic.  Outside the room, I could hear footsteps, could hear voices, though I couldn’t make out the words.  They weren’t speaking English, though.  I don’t know what they spoke, honestly, but I could hear them coming closer. 

Once my human ears could understand them clearly, the translator started to attempt to translate.  There were garbled moments before finally I comprehended.

“—ments in the morning.”

“There better not be any problems this time.  I’m not going to Visser Three to tell him they got stolen by homeless again!”

“You can tell him, then, that this place is a dumb idea to receive supplies.”

 The latter declined such a suggestion, and both started talking about what the shipment was.  It seemed to be mostly food, probably to send up to the Blade ship, but there were orders of other things.  Computer equipment.  Pharmaceuticals.  Toilet paper.

This wasn’t an important hub, or, perhaps more correctly, it wasn’t imperative and overly guarded one.  (After all, food and toilet paper can be very important.)  I was aware of that walking in, as it was the reason the Chee suggested it.  Still, it was a bit of a disappointment to just overhear mundane shipments for the area.  It was like when I complied a shopping list, when the children, Aximili and/or Matilda called out “necessities.”

While I felt myself relax, in the darkness I could sense Matilda was still wired, panicked.  Then I remembered she didn’t have a translator chip imbedded in her skull, and said, ‹They’re speaking about their shopping lists.›

I felt her flick my back painfully, obviously not appreciating my attempt to calm her.

‹Ow.›

She flicked me again.

‹You can be overly violent, do you know?  It’s not a very attractive quality.›

There was no flick, but I have a feeling she was just withholding her escalating violence until a location when my vocal exclamations of pain wouldn’t bring about our death.

There was little to do but wait for the Controllers to leave.  While Matilda could have morphed and escaped – provided her morphing was not too noisy – I would have had difficulties.  The closet was cramp with just two humans in it, not to mention the jackets and miscellaneous boxes or other things.  I wouldn’t have fit as an Andalite, plus I don’t think I would have had time to morph for my escape.  At first noise, the Controllers would draw their weapons, fire the second they saw a blue fur, and it would have been the end of me.  I’d rather avoid such a conclusion.

Even still, it was annoying.  The closet was cramp and getting stuffy, with a damp moldy smell permeating from the upper back seam.  There was no place to sit, and we couldn’t move too much, otherwise we would have made noise.

It seemed like we would have been able to wait out our unknowing capturers, except that apparently it was nearing shift change.  I heard their footsteps before their words stepping towards the closet.

‹Quick, they’re coming!  Morph!› I ordered, trying to think of something to do.  There was no way there was enough time to complete a morph, but maybe I could give a distraction.  Maybe I’d be lucky enough to escape.  Maybe –

Matilda suddenly wrenched me around.  “Elfangor, don’t get angry or offended, okay.”  And then she kissed me, hard.

I staggered back, surprised and trying to separate, ruining our silence record and making the Yeerks aware that we were hiding inside.  However, the noises were advancing on us were worse, and there was little choice.  My eyes darted between the light from the crack in the doorway and the darkness that was the female before I made the choice.

I kissed back, and the kiss turned into something deep and frantic.  And I felt Matilda’s hands on me, undoing the clothes.  After a bit of confusion, I realized why.  To make it realistic, to make it actually seem like we had been in the closet not eavesdropping, appearances matter.  I attempted, trying to search the darkness for clasps and zippers and whatnot, but, unlike Matilda, I had little experience navigating the darkness.  Her hands were already on my bare skin, her body pressed tight against me, pressed against me …

I’ll admit, part of it was arousing.  Foolish, yes, but human libidos are without sense sometimes.  And they are very apt at stealing senses, too, because when the door burst open I could only stare blankly.

“Who are you?” a heavily accented voice yelled.  Though my eyes were not able to see properly – the shock of the sudden light – I think they were pointing Dracon beams at us.

I couldn’t think of any answer.  Matilda didn’t seem to suffer.  Voice breathless, she said, “We’re the couple in this closet.  Just give us fifteen more minutes.”

Clever Andalite I am, I corrected that, as the point was to leave quickly.  “I don’t think we need that long.”  Then I realized what I implied and felt myself flame. 

There were some snorts of suppressed laughter, including from Matilda. 

“What I mean is,” I stammered, “we should probably finish this elsewhere.”  I attempted to disentangle myself, trying to stand so I could be presentable.  There were certain situations I never imagined myself in; if I had the creativity, trying to pull my pants up while in a closet in front of Controllers would have been near the top.

“Yes, that would be wise,” a Controller grinned, and I saw that the Dracon beam was being holstered.

“You could have waited fifteen minutes.  Or less,” Matilda pouted, though she was grinning at me while she fixed her clothing.  I glared at her and vowed to do something very terrible to her.  Like turn the hot water off when she was in the shower.

“Let’s go,” I growled, grabbing her arm and dragging her away, away from the Controllers and their laughter and leering gazes.  Yes, perhaps her idea had been cleverer and better than mine, but I didn’t need Yeerks laughing at me!

We quickly left the bar and walked to the safer streets, to where I parked the van.  Driving away, an uncomfortable silence fell, and I struggled to button my shirt one-handed, to sit comfortably in what had become swiftly tight pants.

“…So … do you think you got everything you need?” Matilda asked after a few minutes.

“I’ll make do.”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

Again there was silence.

“I’m sorry, you know, for surprising you like that, but we didn’t have time to, you know, discuss it.”

“I know.”  I paused.  “It wasn’t a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“Glad your modesty hasn’t left you.”  I winced at my words.  “Your humility, I mean. Humility.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just, I want you to know I wasn’t trying to –”

“I understand,” I interrupted, because the last thing I wanted was for her to say whatever she wasn’t trying to do.  “Let’s just forget it.  It was just something we had to do.”

“Yeah.”

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“At all.  Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

Silence again.

“Don’t, you know, tell the children or Aximili.”

“Of course not, Elfangor,” she said, as if surprised at my suggestion.

“Okay.  Good.”

“Good.”

“All right.”

“Right.

Silence.

 ****

I shook Matilda awake later that night.  She batted at me sleepily.

“Wake up!” I ordered, “we must leave.”

That got her awake.  “What, what’s happening?”

“We’re leaving.  Now.  Pack.”  I left, Champ following, and headed to my room to finish transferring files to the laptop.  I had to wipe my main computer. 

“Elfangor, what’s going on?” Matilda demanded, barging in, her pajamas and hair rumpled.

I tossed her a printout of the files I had taken just a few hours ago.  “That’s _us_!  They’re after _us_.  Literally. And their patience is _seriously_ waning.  Start packing.  We’re leaving tonight.  Champ, go!” I said, exasperated, as the dog managed to be exactly where I needed to be.

Over Champ’s whine, she asked, “To where?”

“The Hork-Bajir valley.”

“We’re going to live outside?  Where there is no running water or indoor plumbing?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” I said off-handedly, typing in some code that would get the back-ups erased.  “Living outside in nature is far better than living in a house.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

My head snapped up.  “I beg your pardon?”

Matilda waved her hands at me.  “I don’t see _you_ out there with Ax.  You’re in here!”

I frowned.  “Do you plan on taking just that?” I said, waving a hand to mean her pajamas.

“Are you sure we have to?  Leave?”

“Yes.”

She sat on my bed, and I heard her flipping through the sheets.  “Do they know?”

“If they knew, we would not even be having this conversation,” I said dryly, unhooking the cords to the laptop.  I started to wipe the desktop’s memory.  “We knew this was coming.  I’m not jumping the gun, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Only a little,” she said defensively.  “And I can’t read this.  What language is this?”

“Yeerk.”

“You thought I could read this?  I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

I rubbed my forehead.  “Tell me why you are not packing.”

“Have you told Ax?”

“Yes.  He’s going to see Toby Hamee to make her aware of the situation.  _He_ at least listens to me.”

“Thank god you’ve got me, then.  Your ego needs deflating.”

“Yours could come down a few notches as well,” I retorted, grabbing a duffle bag and starting to pack random clothes.

“You’re wrinkling those.”

I gave a groan and turned.  Matilda was smirking at me, enjoying her teasing.  “You’re not taking this seriously,” I said, sitting next to her.  Champ set his head between my knees, and I scratched his head.

“Yes, I am,” Matilda countered, patting my knee.  “It’s just not as bad as you’re pretending.  If it was awful, you would have dragged me off into the forest before I had even woken up. Right?”  She bumped her shoulder against mine.

“Probably,” I agreed with a slight small grin.

“See.  So it’s not all terrible.  I mean, aside from them having _files_ on us, which is reason enough to be scared.”

Yes, and not for the reason she might be thinking of.  _Files_ meant _surveillance_ , which meant that eventually we might be spotted in a compromising situation.  And files meant we were on a short list of promising hosts.  Too much danger, more even than when I knew the Yeerks were looking into me with their job offers.  Before, that was just me at risk.  This was everyone else.

“Now, why don’t you give me the _Cliff Notes_ of this?” she said, waving the papers.

“You can’t just ask for a summary like a normal person,” I demanded, taking the sheets, “instead of resorting to that adolescent slang?”

“You’re smiling.  Don’t try to pretend.”

“I never pretend,” I said, affecting my voice to a lofty tone.  Then I rolled my eyes and sighed.  “Very well, _perhaps_ you are right and a few hours will not put us in more danger.”

“Only perhaps.  Translate, please.”

“Well, _in summary_ , these all are about me.”  I dropped over five pages.  “History.  Bank statements.  Documented encounters.   I now know _why_ I got that jury duty.”

“Wow, Yeerks really are evil.”

“Not funny.  Though, in a way, it is.”

“What do you mean?” Matilda asked.

I grinned.  “The undisclosed reason, the one between the lines, you understand, was to see if I was an Andalite.”  Matilda gave a laugh, and my smile widened.  “Some Controllers thought it was too much of a coincidence that I arrive after the Dome ship was lost, that I’m richer than sin, knew my way around a motherboard, and didn’t apparently work.  They also noticed the subtle connection between my names.”

Matilda chuckled.  “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.  But it wasn’t an _official_ reason,” I said, making the bunny ears humans are fond of.  “Visser Three has been delightfully rigid on believing the children are Andalites.  Officially, it was to just observe me closer.  Thank my tail a Chee got assigned as well.”

“You’d think the Chee would have told us,” she commented, bitterly.  Perhaps she was seeing the proof in my earlier words.

I shook my head.  “They may be almost-perfect spies, but they have their limits.  One being that they have to think something is worth investigating.  Like I said before, despite what Erek King professes, we are not high on their list of priorities.”

“Do you know what they plan for you?”

I sighed, turning to the appropriate page and reading the numerous uses for my human persona.  “Potential uses for various operations, mostly computers, I suppose, but until they know my specialty, they can’t be exact.  Otherwise grunt work, mostly. The stuff Wetmore wrote –”

“Whoa, I thought the kids said she wasn’t a Controller.”

“People can be taken at any time.  And Ms. Wetmore is an annoying human without a Yeerk.  Visser Three probably couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Jeez, I almost pity her.”

I snorted.  “I’m trying to figure out exactly _when_ she got infested.  Ehhh.”  My face was contorting at the memories. 

Matilda snorted.

“You might think it’s funny, but it’s not.”

“Actually, it’s kind of nauseating.  What about me?”

“Oh, you’re report is much shorter, because you’re a leech.”  I held out her two sheets.

“Hardy har.  What do they plan for me?”

“Nothing specific.”  It wasn’t true, but she didn’t need to know that.  And I didn’t like to imagine her as a Controller, unable to be free.  She had already been one once, and that was one time too many.  “They even got stuff on Aximili.”

Matilda was quiet.  “What about the kids?” she asked finally.

“Thankfully, nothing.  At least in the files I got.  So, they’re a bit safer than us.  _We_ have uses that are currently needed.”

“And what about Champ?” she asked, petting her dog.

I chuckled.  “He’s the safest of all of us.  Would you be upset if we put him under Chee care?”  They could be useful for something.

“Look at that expression,” she smiled, cupping his face in her hands.  “It’s totally what he wants.  To be spoiled rotten by those androids.”

“He is a clever dog,” I agreed.

Champ leaned his head back and panted, knowing he was the subject of conversation. 

“I guess I should call them,” I sighed, standing up.  “Start packing, please.  Even if we aren’t in immediate-immediate danger, I’d like to get out of here.”

“Yeah.”  She was lost in thought, still petting Champ.  “What about Tobias?”

Looking at her, I didn’t understand.  She had asked about the children already.  “As I said –”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.”  Her face was pained.  “We can’t – I don’t want to abandon him.  Again.”  Her voice was a whisper.

Understanding filled me as well as the common pain.  Tobias had not stayed the night, instead going to his uncle’s home to check on his cat and then try to do some homework.  (I refrained from asking _why_ he hadn’t brought it here to work on, and kept from being suspicious why he felt the need to do that particular work out of my house.)  There had been no reason for him to intrude on my thoughts, and now, now I could only think that his mother had to remind me about him.  It made a bleak feeling take root in my stomach, the feeling of failure, but hadn’t I always failed Tobias?

“He will understand,” I said once I found my voice.

She gave a bitter laugh.  “Yes, he’s very understanding.” 

I could almost hear the unsaid, _that didn’t make him forgiving_.  But I felt Tobias did forgive his mother, in the essentials.  Perhaps there was a lingering pain, but he understood, and there is forgiveness in that, even if one doesn’t want to.  “There is no other option.  We must close down the house.  I would … if you could stay, I would have no issue, but the files … they would go through you to get to me.”

“And they won’t go through the kids?” 

She already knew, but I said it anyway.  “They are seen as Aximili’s friends, with little connection to me.  Unlike yourself.”

“Still …”

I approached her and bent to look in her face.  “Even if we both disapprove of him, Tobias’ uncle is still his guardian.  Tobias still has a home, a place to go,” I said gently.

“A place to go isn’t the same as a home.”

There was no argument for that point.  “He can’t come with us.  At best, we’ll be accused of kidnapping.  At worse, they’ll think he just ran away.”

“I think you got those confused,” Matilda said, giving me a look.

No, I hadn’t.  “He’ll be better off with his uncle.  With us ….”  I trailed off.  “It’s better this way.”

“You’re wrong.  You’re right,” she said, laughing without humor, “but you’re wrong.”  She wiped her eyes surreptitiously, then tried to smile, searching for the courage that was always part of her.  “I can see I’m going to need to go to the store for some necessities, because we’re not leaving today.”  She gave me a look, which said that even if we might be leaving today, we weren’t leaving before she got things she thought she’d need, otherwise she was going to make my life miserable.  “Just tell me something, Elfangor?”

“What?”

“The Hork-Bajir aren’t as bad as the Chee, are they?”

I smiled.  Her courage had to pair with her humor.  “You’re just a bad guest.  Pack.”

“But I don’t think I have a suitcase big enough for the house,” she complained as she left.

I shook my head.  While their humor came at inappropriate times, it was one of my favorite things about humans.

 ****

Perhaps I had grown soft, but I missed my house.  There was something comforting about me in the building, where my electronics could be _far_ away from complaining humans.  Not that _I_ had _anyone_ in mind, at all. 

“I never noticed, but you smell like wet dog,” Matilda said.

‹I apologize,› I said sarcastically.  ‹Next time it starts to rain, I shall erect an invisible force-field to keep me dry.›  I typed on the laptop.

“It’s bad enough we’re here, with the Hork-Bajir, who are _not_ better than the Chee, but my tent has to hold all your electronics, which keep me up all night.  And then you drag your wet smelly self in here.”

I glared at her with a stalk eye.  ‹Do you honestly think insulting me is going to make me get you a bigger tent?›

“Yes.  Or at least another one.”

I huffed quietly.  ‹I will ask one of the children to buy one.›

“And an inflatable mattress.”

‹I am getting the distinct feeling you don’t like camping.›

“No, I _love_ camping.  This, however, is _not_ camping.  This is living in the wild.  Do you know how hard it is to cook in the _great_ outdoors?  Cook _good_ meals, I mean?  Not all of us live on grass and tree bark.”

‹I have a feeling you are going to tell me.›

She didn’t however, sitting and watching the rain.  Lightning flashed and thunder rolled in short order. In the flashes, the eyes of the Hork-Bajir lit up in the trees.

“So Andalites normally seek shelter in the rain?”

‹Not for something as mild as this.›

“This is mild?”

I looked outside the screen of the tent.  ‹By Andalite standards, yes.  Though this isn’t that hard by Earth standards, either.›  I smiled.  ‹Andalites are made for the outdoors.  Humans aren’t.  Weak, feeble things you are.›

She laughed.  “I guess.  Then why do Andalites have scoops, if they don’t mind the weather?”

‹We like our belongings to remain dry,› I said, voicing it to make it sound like it was obvious, which it really was.  ‹Also, for our young, who generally don’t like heavy rains as much, as well as for when the weather is exceptionally hard.›

“Makes sense.  So Ax is probably running around, as they say, naked in the rain?”  Her grin was far too amused.

‹Perhaps.›  I smiled as well.  ‹He is young.›

“Yeah, he knows how to have fun.”

‹I can have fun,› I countered. 

“I don’t see you out in the rain.”

‹I’m working here,› I said, indicating the laptop.

She smirked at me.  “Of course you are.” I carefully flicked my tail at her, sending not a few water droplets at her.  “Hey!”

‹Just having fun.›

“Ass.”

‹Andalite,› I corrected.

“Oh, I wasn’t making a mistake.”  She sighed.  “It just seems so much more hopeless, sometimes.”

‹Pardon?› I asked at the non sequitur.

“Being out here.  Before, in the house, you could pretend it was normal, forget out the Yeerks.  The kids could stop by.  There was running water and electricity, take-out deliveries.  Now, now it just feels like the Yeerks have gotten the upper hand.”

‹They’ve always had the upper hand,› I said quietly.

“Maybe.  I have to ask, what can possibly be taking the Andalite fleet so long to get here?  Or are they just not stopping for directions?  It probably is a ship full of guys, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

‹Earth is not an active infiltration.  There is no war, per se.  It just … it’s just probably not high on their lists,› I admitted.  ‹But they should be here soon.›

“Is that hope or promise?”

‹Both.›

“Thought so.  I just thought, if you told them to get their tails here, they’d be here a bit faster.”

I gave a small sigh.  ‹I may have some influence, but it is not in moving the High Command.  I was just a lucky warrior who made a name for myself.  They may use me as a figurehead, but nothing more.  They wouldn’t listen to me even if I’m telling them the sky is red.›

“It’s blue.”

‹On my world.›

“Oh, yeah.”

‹Yes.  All I was good for was making innocent children enlist into this war.  Did I tell you, before I came here, I gave the new _arisths_ at the Academy the morphing ability?  There was a big ceremony.›

“Of course.  You’re Andalites.”

I ignored her comment.  ‹I wish I hadn’t.  I would bet my stalk eyes ninety percent of them are dead right now.›

“Maybe not,” Matilda argued quietly, touching my arm.

‹No, it is probably true.›  I sighed.  ‹All I remember is their young faces staring at me with awe.  I hated myself then, for a moment, when I gave them the power.  I was only glad Aximili hadn’t been in that group.›

“I think he would have liked it.”

‹Probably.›

“Why did you?  I mean, did you draw the short straw?”

‹It was just ill-timing.  I was on the homeworld at the same time, and the High Command thought it would help morale.  I couldn’t say no.›

“I understand.  So that’s why you have the blue box.”

I made a face.  ‹Yes.  I … ah, I accidentally stole it.›

“What?!”

Part of me smiled at her surprise.  ‹I was running late to catch the ship because of the ceremony.  War-Princes aren’t supposed to be late, you know.  So I just knocked everything into my satchel and ran for the ship.›

She laughed.  “How late were you?”

I straightened.  ‹I was perfectly punctual,› I said loftily.  ‹And it’s not like they would have left without me.›

“They could have.”

‹But they didn’t.›

“Thank God for Earth’s sake.”

‹Maybe.› 

“Stop being modest,” she teased quietly.  “Tell me, what do Andalites do in the rain?”

‹What humans do, I suppose,› I replied, amused by her question.  ‹When I was younger, I used to splash into the puddles and get covered in mud.  Mother was never pleased.›

She giggled.  “She didn’t like you dirty, I suppose.”

‹No,› I said, surprised at the idea.  ‹The largest puddles were always in the arrangements or next to the work station.  Either I totaled the gardens or got their designs muddy.›  I smiled at the memories.  ‹One time, I got over-zealous in my run, skidded, collided with their work table, and knocked everything to the ground, as well as caused my father’s guest to have a few bruised knees and cuts when the table edge hit him.›

“Oh my,” she laughed.  “Did you get in trouble?”

I laughed as well.  ‹I think I was more scared of my father’s friend.  I didn’t know him and he was a very large Andalite – of course, I was very small and young, so everyone appeared large then – with old wounds and scars.  I remember hiding under Mother the rest of his stay, however long that was, in case he would try to swing his blade at me.  Oh, he had terrified me.  I think he probably still does,› I admitted with another laugh, almost embarrassed.

“Was he mad?”

‹Probably not as much as I imagined,› I admitted.  ‹I think he was probably very amused with me, aside from that incident.  He used to say something pointedly to me whenever I started to move from under Mother, and I’d duck back.  He most likely enjoyed his game.›

“How cruel, scaring you like that,” Matilda said, but it was clear she didn’t mean it. 

I smiled.  ‹I think most of parents’ friends learned to keep an eye literally fixed on me.  I was very energetic when I was young.  I caused one to fall down a hill, batted a ball right on top of another’s head, right on his stalks – and that hurts, let me tell you – tangled several when I ran under them, and gave one an allergic reaction.›

She burst out laughing.  “How did you do that?”

‹The way Mother tells it, she distinctly ordered me not to go into this particular area, but I did, rolled in the pollen, trotted back, and made her friend swell like a ripe fruit.›

“Oh, you were naughty.”

‹Personally, I just remember standing next to my parents and her just starting to swell,› I continued, ignoring her interruption.  ‹I had wanted to show her my new toy, I think.  Which had probably been in the area I wasn’t supposed to enter.›

“Does Ax know any of these?”

‹He’s probably heard them all a million times, in the context of, _At least you’re not like your brother and_ … et cetera.›

“I suppose in ever great leader life’s there must be a few embarrassing childhood stories,” she said.

‹It is a requirement.  Parents, I believe, need the blackmail material.›

“And it proves that you are just a lowly mortal like the rest of us.”  She sighed, smiling.  “I will say this for camping.  You do get to hear a lot of great stories.”

‹Hardly great.›

She grinned at me.  “Trust me, these are classics.”

 ****

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More humans move in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 45

My brother’s response was instantaneous, the result of years of (not unfounded) Andalite superiority.  ‹Impossible.  There is no way human science could have made such a leap.  This is the Yeerks at work.›

Aside from the truth in his statement, part of me felt – if only for Marco’s benefit – to point out, ‹Do not underestimate humans, or have you forgotten, Aximili, that humans _have_ been exposed to this form of communication previously?›

He gave me a blank look, as did the rest of the humans.  The Hork-Bajir around us ignored our presence, though I did not doubt Toby Hamee would require more information later on.  With all of us in such close quarters, there was almost a requirement to share information.

Jake remembered.  “At the observatory.”

My brother blanched.

“Yeah.  When Ax thought he played _a game_ ,” Marco said with a malicious grin.

“What?” Matilda asked.  She had not been with us at that time.

‹That is … what they saw could not have brought them this!  That was just alignments!  And you removed the evidence!› Aximili said desperately.

I shook my head at him.  ‹What I did was remove the programming at the Observatory.  I had no way of knowing how many copies the humans had.  In this years, I haven’t pretended that somewhere humans weren’t working in it.  Considering Marco’s father’s connection to both projects, he certainly was.›  I gave Marco a look, almost to say he should have paid attention to exactly _what_ his father had been up to.

My brother, realizing his part, gave a sort of helpless look, unable to meet my gaze.  Considering I had given advice on how to create icons and window applications, I think we two must forever be destined to advance human technology inadvertently. 

“You can’t tell me Yeerks aren’t doing _something_ with this, didn’t finish everything,” Matilda defended.  Perhaps she was sticking up for my brother, realizing that he felt ashamed of some former action she had no knowledge of.  “I mean, ‘Zero-space.’  There is like no way any person would think of calling it that.  It’d be something a weird, like quantum tunnel thing.  Or Vortex.”

I noticed Aximili did brighten up a bit.  At least his eye stalks straightened and I gave her a very subtle look, one she might have even caught.  ‹True, humans name things in a very illogical manner.›

“Yeah, even still, why would Yeerks make something they already have access to?” Rachel asked.  “That’s dumb.”

“Unless they just want the people who thought it up, Rachel.  The scientists,” Matilda said.

‹Human sciences are centuries behind them,› my brother protested.  ‹It would be a waste.  They would gain nothing.›

I shook my head.  ‹The science community is a small one, relatively speaking.  Getting one gets everyone, eventually.  At the end, there are no humans who could be inconveniently clever later on.›

“They’re not getting my dad!” Marco snapped.

“This could be a big trap though, couldn’t it?  They think we think humans couldn’t think it up, so we think Yeerks, and stuff?” Tobias asked.

“Some trap!  It’s too elaborate.  I mean, _if_ we learned out it and if those guys could make it work.  It’d be years!  Yeerks don’t do that.”

I would not correct him of the notion.  If it helped him to believe it, that was all that mattered.  But it was a poor thought, because Visser One’s entire plan for taking humans required the years Marco believed Yeerks impossible to wait for.  He only thought this may be a trap for us, but perhaps it was a trap for humans.

“Well, maybe there is no Z-space device, just a big rumor.  They just want to trick us that way,” Jake pointed out.

‹Yes, perhaps it is a rumor,› Aximili agreed.  ‹Humans couldn’t manage Zero-space communications.›

“Then all of those engineers would have to be in on it,” Tobias said, then looked guiltily at Marco.

“My dad’s not one.  I tested him.  He’s not.”

“And maybe he tricked you,” Rachel said back.  “Knew you were testing him.”

“If Marco’s dad thought he was being tested, Marco would not be here,” Matilda interrupted firmly, giving Rachel a look of disapproval.  What she disapproved of, I wasn’t sure, but I could recognize the look when I saw it.  (Sometimes, I was intimately familiar with it.)  So could Rachel, who looked down.

“He could have been,” she muttered, one last bit of rebellion.

“He’s not one.  Maybe he’s a dupe, an innocent member of the Yeerk team.” 

I saw it when Marco realized what it meant.  His father would be taken.

‹It is unlikely the Yeerks would leave one member of their team uncontrolled, a trap or not,› Aximili said tentatively. 

Marco’s gaze was heavy on me, as was everyone else’s.  It would be my decision, my call.  Except, of course, it wouldn’t.  I knew that about the children.  They disobeyed my orders too often for me to forget it, now.  And Marco would disregard anything I said that he didn’t agree with.  Perhaps Rachel was right and his father had tricked him – but Matilda was right as well.  If the Yeerks suspected Marco knew, he wouldn’t be free.

It was too difficult to balance.  Could I afford to let Marco’s father be taken?  Aside from Marco snapping, there were enough risks with Tom.  Marco’s father would be an authority figure, someone whom Marco would have to – or should – obey, who had the right to act in a way he – the Yeerk – saw fit.  This was always a risk with the children, but one I tucked in the back of my mind.  It had been too late to save Tom, so I merely worked around him, but if more family members were threatened, _that_ became my concern. 

‹We will act as we must,› I finally said, and I looked at Marco.

There was a moment of silence.  “Marco, where does your dad work?” Matilda asked.  He said the name of the company, annoyed.  “Isn’t that part of HeiCorp?”  She didn’t have to give me a look, didn’t even pay me a glance.

‹It is.› 

And I knew, and I knew she knew, it was a Yeerk-controlled company.  The name was on many of the job applications sent to me, and so was Marco’s father’s company.  Along with Wetmore Industries and so many more, some perhaps even legitimate and safe, had made it to my mailbox.

“Marco, you should go home,” she continued as if there had been no revelation between us.  

“No!  My dad’s at his office and we can –”

“Marco,” she said firmly.  “Don’t argue with me.”

He looked at me.  “Elfangor –”

‹Do not drag me into this.›  I gave him a smile.  ‹She is angry enough with me.›

“And he’ll do whatever I say, and so will you.  You all have a math test tomorrow, which I expect all of you to pass, otherwise your parents will get on your cases.”

“Tell me about it,” I heard Tobias mutter and winked at him.

“I thought you were in charge,” Marco scowled at me, but there was a hint of a smile.

‹Go home.  We’ll watch your father.›

No words were spoken until they left, when Matilda stated, “You know he’s in danger.”  My brother looked between us while I agreed.  “And you’re not thinking about sacrificing him, are you?  Are you?”

I still didn’t answer, because I didn’t know.  ‹Aximili and I will watch him.›

Matilda set her hands on her hips and glared at me.  “Don’t make me hate you, Elfangor.   Just don’t.”

I’d rather avoid it myself, but I instead of saying so I turned to my brother.  ‹We have work to do.›

‹Yes, we do.›

 ****

“Did you have to hit him so hard?” Matilda scolded, driving the car.  Technically, it might be considered a stolen vehicle, but the owner was in it.  Did that make it a kidnapping?

“I didn’t think it was hard,” I protested, even though my hand claimed otherwise.  I might have broken one of my fingers, but did she care?  No.  She had more concern for the bruise forming on the face of the human in the back seat than me.

“God, I thought Marco was going to attack _you_ for hitting his father.”

“He thought I was a Controller.  The lighting was poor.”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that.”  She bit her lip.  “Are you _sure_ that address was for a Controller?  Because this is like assault and kidnapping and theft and I’m too pretty to go to jail.”

I wished Aximili as still with me, because he wouldn’t verbally question me.  Why he had to depart when Matilda, _claiming to be bored_ , relieved him was beyond me?  Three people watching were better than two, except the logic failed with Matilda said it was the middle the night and everyone was supposed to be asleep.  And then this happened.  So much for everyone being asleep.

“What are we going to do?  We can’t just drive around,” she said.  “And _Lord_  knows we can’t let him go!  You’re going to have a warrant out for you!”

Laughter escaped me before I could stop it.  How could she think I would worry about human authorities when Yeerks were after me?

“Do you want to go to jail?” she asked me.  “Well, don’t expect any conjugal visits from me!”

“A pity,” I smiled, unsure of the term but amused nonetheless.  “Go to the house.”

“Are you sure Tom didn’t leave any surprises there?”

I had asked the children take care of my mail and plants.  Jake said he couldn’t stop his brother was coming along once he found out, and that he had seen the elder going through our things.  Since I doubted he went under floor boards, under the carpet, under a very heavy dresser, the remaining hints of my conflicting identies were safe. “I cannot be sure, but there are few other places we can go.  And I would not go there is I was not reasonably secure in the place.”

She sighed.  “I know that.  I just … Lord, this.”

“I know.”

We made it to my house with few words, and I jumped out to manually open and close the garage.  Only my Mustang was inside, the other vehicles hidden, an act to make it seem like we took them with us.  It was work, but we managed to get the body of Marco’s father inside.  It was difficult in the dark house.  There was no power – I had cancelled it – and there had been some muted swearing by Matilda as she looked for the candles or flashlights.

“Where are you taking him?” she asked, light on the ground.  She was whispering, as if worried about being found out.

“The basement.”  My voice matched her volume, though it was stupid.  Perhaps I was only doing it to make her comfortable.  I wasn’t worried, after all.  “That way we can have a little light without the worry of windows.”

“Good idea.”  She opened the door to the basement for me and helped shine the light.  There were still blankets and pillows down here, and I set Marco’s father on them as gently as I could.  Even still, he made a sound of pain.  “We’re going to have to tie him up.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t suppose you have any handcuffs?  No, that would be too kinky for you.  I don’t even think we have rope.”

There was a good chance she was right.  Who had spare rope lying around?  “Just try to find something before he wakes up.”

Her head was buried in the boxes, digging for something.  “Just hope he wakes up calm.  Because if he freaks out about us kidnapping him, he’s going to die when you tell him about the Yeerks.  And then he’s going to _kill you_ when he finds out about Marco.   If he starts calm, you might manage to live.”

“Why do I have to tell him?”

“Because if I tell him, well, I lack a certain presence.  Mostly being blue and having two extra eyes and a tail.  Do you like this shirt?”  She didn’t wait for my answer, because I could hear it ripping.  “Why would you even think about buying something with a huge tear in it?”

“I bet you it didn’t have that until you got it,” I said when she tossed me the fabric, missing it because of the dim light and my lack of eyes.  After retrieving it, which was a trial until Matilda pointed a light at it, I started to tie his wrists.  Perhaps I should have put them behind his back, but it was difficult enough dealing with this task.  “Do you think that’s tight enough?”

“Are his hands turning purple?”

“Can’t see in the dark.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.  And if it’s not, I think I can take him.  I mean, if you could, I think I’m safe.  After all, you’re a wuss.”

I smiled.  “I’m a decorated War-Prince and you call me a wuss?”

She waved the flashlight at me, temporarily blinding me.  “Are you cold, do you need a blanket?”

No doubt she was concerned because I was only in my morphing shorts.  “There are plenty.  I will be fine.  What we need is light.”

“Right.  I’m going upstairs.  We have some Christmas candles in the closet.  Unless someone ate them.”

“I told Aximili he couldn’t eat them anymore.”  It was not his fault they smelled like cinnamon and pie and tasted edible.

“Yeah, and I know Andalites, and they sneak bites when they think no one will notice.  The lighter is still in the drawer, isn’t?” she asked as she ran up the steps, not even waiting for my answer. 

I was left in the dark with Marco’s father, still unconscious, and I brought up my knees up to wrap my arms around them.  All that was left was to wait until he woke up.

Though when there was screaming upstairs, I practically killed myself trying to get to her.  And then she yelled, “MARCO!  What are you DOING HERE?!  You gave me a fricking heart attack!  Don’t even –”  At that, I sat back down and nursed my knees and hands, though smiling as I heard her continual scolding.  It was muted from the floor, walls, and door, but considering it was not me she was yelling at, there was a very high amusement factor.  Given what was going to happen to our lives, we would need it.

Marco came down a few minutes later, holding candles and looking sheepish.  But his eyes fell on his father.  “Is he okay?”

“I think so.  You found us?”  I held my hand out for a candle, and, after staring for a moment, he understood my desire and passed one to me.

“I went to Erek’s first.  Stupid.”  He was bitter, but he made a smile.

Holding the candle on its side, I let a pool of wax build on the cement by my feet before setting the candle in it, holding it firm until it could stand by itself.  “Your stepmother will worry.”

“I wrote her a note and said I went with dad.”  His eyes were on his father, intent.  “I had to be here.  Whatever you say, I need to be here.  For him.”

“I understand.”

“Do you know Loren can _completely_ move in the dark and find the knives in like, under a second?”

Yes.  Well, she had been blind.  It must have come back to her, or it never left.  Did she still live in that world of counting steps and remembering where things were?  “Did she hurt you?”

“Nah.  She saw it was me.  But … just let me hide behind you for a little while.”

“It is my duty to protect you.”

“Yeah but I think Loren could beat you up.  She’s scary.  Scarier than Rachel.”

I did not think so.  There was no reason to find Rachel scary.  Troubling and disturbing, yes, especially with the way she lost her head in battle, but she wasn’t scary.  But I did not find the elder any scarier.  While I might try to avoid some of her moods, it wasn’t because I was afraid.  It was more that it was just … easier.  “Is that so?”

“Yeah.  Weird, huh?”

It was also easier to agree than to determine why.  “Yes.”

She came downstairs before we could continue, more candles under her arm and a box of crackers in her hands.  After scowling at Marco, she sat down next to me and lit more of the candles.  “So now what?”

“Someone should tell the others.”  Of course no one volunteered.  “But first, we must decide what to do with your father, Marco.”

Matilda gave me an impatient look.  “He can stay with us in the Hork-Bajir valley.  Don’t be stupid.”  Then she looked worried.  “Oh, we should get Nora too.”

From Marco’s expression, his stepmother was the last person on his mind.  “She’ll be fine.  They’re after Dad, not her.”  His tone was dismissive.  I knew he had never cared for his new relative, but even I did not like the casual treatment of family.

Her expression darkened, but I stepped in before she could scold.  “When your father does not arrive, they may come to your home.  She will be in danger.”

“She’ll be fine.”  Even with his words, Marco fidgeted in his seat.  He may be cold, but he wasn’t heartless.  “First, we take care of my dad.”

“And yourself.  You will have disappeared together, on this night,” I pointed out.  “I will drive the car into the ocean.  An accident.  I should do so now, before it is too light.”  I stood up.  “Keep him here, if he wakes.”

“Elfangor …”

I looked at Matilda.  “I will fly past Marco’s home and check on Nora.”  She smiled at how easily I read the desire, before I started to demorph. 

“What are you doing?” Marco asked.

“Alan Fangor cannot be seen here.”

“Whoa!  No way!  You can’t just –”

I gave Marco a look and he silenced himself, though the candlelight showed his disapproval.  And yet there was approval.  If anyone saw the car, they’d see his father.  They’d see that.  Tying up loose ends, making everything neat.  Marco always favored plans that left no trace.  Myself, I acquired the human and transformed into him, while Matilda found me a shirt and pants.

“Creepy,” Marco said, eyes darting between his father and me.

“Yes.  I will return in an hour, though I will report to the others first.”  They both nodded, and, taking a candle from the floor, and went to leave.  Marco’s voice stopped me.

It was uncertain and tentative.  “Elfangor?  I just …”

I knew want he wanted to say, and how he wanted me to respond.  “You’re welcome, Marco.”  Whether it was how I should was another story.

 ****

Walking to the Hork-Bajir valley with Marco’s father was uncomfortable.  Between his staring and fear and awe, I wasn’t sure if I could take it.  It was a good thing Matilda was with us, and Marco as well.  Peter seemed to cling to the presence of another human adult, and she kept up a friendly chatter of explanations.  They had done most of the explaing by the time I had arrived back, but Peter had silenced his protests and attempts at escape when I showed him my true form.

So we walked, and I made sure the human wouldn’t try to escape.  Human are stupid, sometimes, so I had no doubt he might attempt it.   Though, if he did now, there is a good chance he would be lost very quickly and grow tired.  These few hours in he was showing signs of tiring.

‹Why do we not rest for a few minutes,› I finally said, because I’m not cruel.

Peter sat on the ground, sweating and panting, and Marco joined him, both tired and concerned.  Matilda pushed back her damp hair and stretched her back.  I could see she was tired as well, but since moving to the valley, walking had become a common exercise.  “How much farther is it, Elfangor?”

‹Only about five miles.›

“Five miles?” Marco groaned.  “Now I know why I always fly.”

His father started at that, opened his mouth, but then chose not to say anything.  He shot me a few looks.

“I hope we have something to eat.  Those crackers aren’t holding,” Marco said hopefully.

“We got plenty of _meals ready-to excrete_ ,” she said, making a face.  “ _He_ won’t touch them.”

‹I’m not using our few supplies,› I said calmly.

“Which shows how awful they are.  Best diet in the world.  They almost make tree bark look tempting.”

Marco grumbled and looked to his father.  “How you doing, Dad?”

Peter tried to smile.  “Just tired.”

‹It has been a strange night for you,› I said.  ‹A start to a very strange life.›

“Elfangor, behave,” Matilda scolded.  “Ignore him, Peter.  He’s just cranky and being a big baby.”

‹I did not _say_ anything— ›

“He’s not going to chop you into pieces, either.  He’s all bark, no slice.”

“Though he gives a mean glare,” Marco put in, grinning.

The parent looked even more confused at everything.  Perhaps he could not understand being able to tease an alien, let alone one that looked like me. 

‹If it would not be too much trouble, I do have a favor that may keep you busy, Mr. ____.›

Peter looked at me, surprised.  “Me?  What can I do?”

‹Since our relocation, we have been frightfully at a loss in knowing Yeerk plans.  I do not doubt you could manage to recreate your Zero-space communicator with my brother’s or my own help.›

“What Elfangor means to say is that he is lazy and doesn’t want to do it himself,” Matilda chirped.

‹No,› I said, glaring at her.  ‹I mean what I said.  And it does not hurt that you have an idea in its construction.  Aximili may not like to admit it, but I can admit humans can be too clever for their own good.  The task will do you good, keep you occupied.  As she can tell you, the Valley is not very … intellectually-stimulating.›

“We got a radio now, though.  I control the dial.”

“Could we call the Andalites with it?  Get them here?” Marco asked, eyes sharp.

‹Contact, perhaps, but I cannot promise more,› I said quietly, rubbing my forehead. 

“Elfangor, learn how to lie, okay.”

I smiled and looked at him.  ‹I was under the impression humans valued honesty.›

“No.  We like lies.  Lots and lots and lots of lies.”

Looking at Matilda for her input, she just shrugged and smiled.  ‹I will keep that in mind.  Do you know, we have ice cream in the Valley?›

Marco laughed, and even Peter cracked a smile.  “Greedy ass, not sharing,” Matilda said.  “Well, come on, guys, I want ice cream.  Up, up.”  She clapped her hands.

The others groaned and we followed her.  “You know what’s freaky – knowing she’s Tobias’ mom,” Marco said.

I cast him a bemused look.  ‹I fail to understand the freakiness.›

“Because you got the same problem he does.  You both follow crazy blonds.”

‹Bear in mind, you will be living with that crazy blond,› I smiled.  ‹And trust me, at the moment, she is quite sane.›

“Unlike when she learns there is no ice cream,” Peter said, understanding the trials in living with an elder female.

‹We all know she knows we have none.  Because if she really does believe it, we might be in much danger.›

Peter smiled.  “Nora … she’s like that, sometimes.  She is … they said you were going to check on her?” he said quietly.  His eyes were hopeful, and I saw Marco misstep.

I spoke carefully.  ‹She is alive.  But, when you did not appear at their trap, the Yeerks went to your home.›

“Is she all right?”

‹They did not kill her.  But, Mr. _____, we cannot take her now.  The risk is too great.  We will do our best, and I know you love her, but our safety must come first.›

“Why didn’t you take her too?  You could have,” he accused, eyes desperate.  He had already lost one wife, and to lose another one …

Marco’s voice broke through, savage and harsh.  “Dad, she was already a Controller.  We couldn’t risk it.  She was just getting close to you.”

‹Marco!› I scolded sharply, but privately.  He flinched at my volume, but didn’t back down, even when his father’s face broke.

“But you could still free her, couldn’t you?  I love her.”

‹Yes.  _If_ she needs to be.›  I gave Marco a departing glare before trotting ahead.  Suddenly I did not want to be in his presence.

“Don’t be mad at him, Elfangor,” Matilda said, jogging to catch up to me.

‹I’m not.›

She didn’t argue, instead focusing on the ground.  Her flip-flops were not good shoes to make a mountain trek in, but we did not have time to hunt for a better pair.  Marco was wearing Aximili’s dress shoes, and I hoped they did not pinch his feet too much. 

‹What I am,› I finally admitted, ‹is disappointed in him.  He should accept her place in his family, and he does his father and her a great dishonor.›

“Marco loves his mom.  You can’t expect him to accept Nora.”

‹Yes, I can.  I do not ask that she replace his mother, but to accept and respect her, yes, I ask that.›

Matilda made a sound.  “Like you would if your father remarried?”

I bristled and gave her a look.  ‹Yes, like I said.  And _my_ father would tolerate no less.  A family should be welcoming and accept its new members.  There is nothing more important than the family.›

“Except when it isn’t.”

‹Pardon?›

She shook her head.  “Nevermind.”

‹No, you said something.›

For a moment, Matilda didn’t say anything.  “You can’t tell me all Andalite families would accept everyone without question or whatever.  That they’d even _admit_ they were related.”

‹I cannot claim that, no,› I admitted.  In fact, I had not told the truth about my family, but that was different.  It was, because how could it be accepted?  It was not fair to them to connect themselves to me, with what I was going to face, the disgrace and humiliation.  Part of me feared I would have to separate myself from my parents to save them the shame.  And I would leave, when this was done.  Did it make sense, was it right, to upset the balance just to clear my own conscience?  I did not believe so.  ‹But in my family, we would at least respect them, and we would not give a lie like Marco did.›

“He was just trying to make his dad feel better.”

‹No.›  My voice was cold.  ‹He was sabotaging his father’s relationship with Nora.  Selfishly.›

She made no comment, for there was nothing to say.  “We’re going to need a lot of ice cream.”

‹I know.›

“And we need more tents.  I’m not sharing with Marco and Peter.”

‹You are a very greedy human.›

“And _that_ is a very small tent.”

I recalled sitting with her in the tent, and then tried to imagine two more humans in it.  It was difficult and exceedingly uncomfortable.  But I chose to say, ‹I thought that was because it had to house my ego?›

Matilda tripped in surprise and I quickly caught her, though my arms were nowhere near strong enough, but she was laughing and I joined her.

 ****

With the new arrivals, there was the usual amount scrambling to make everyone as happy as possible, or at least as minimumly unhappy.  After negotiating where everyone was going to be and working out a system that gave some sense or illusion of modesty and privacy, things progressed shakily.  All of the humans shared the opinion that they would _not_ be sharing one tent, and Marco diplomatically asked he be given his own when his father said they could share.   (Well, it was diplomatic for him.)  For a few days, they had to make due with the few tents we had until I could get more.  Marco had quickly commandeered one of the newer tents, and I was not surprised it was the one with a primitive television in it. 

How the humans took the change was something I couldn’t be certain on.  Peter tended to remain closed-off to me, aside from when we spoke tech talk, but Marco seemed was content to filter between his tent, watching his father, helping Matilda, and annoying me.   It seemed that, despite his dislike of the occupation, school as necessary to keep him from being bored.  One thing that was clear was that Matilda enjoyed the presence of the humans.  Perhaps it made her feel less alien, ironically, and I did not begrudge her taking enjoyment in Peter’s conversation.  Since he was not comfortable with me, I did not hover around the edge when they were together; it would not have been polite anyway. 

One thing that was reassuring was the Hork-Bajir did not seem too concerned with our presence, even Toby Hamee.  The adults went about their tasks, ever-polite, while the children were themselves.  Children are children in any species, Hork-Bajir even more so.  For a while Marco had them as little servants until subtle words were spoken, and Matilda taught them simple human games and songs.  Peter was visibly more able to be curious about the little ones, as they were less threatening than their adult counterparts.  My brother, I am amused to admit, spent more time finding ways to be too busy to be around them, while I promised to tell them stories if they did not tell anyone else I was doing so.  (I did not fool myself into thinking they kept quiet.)

I was wise to give Marco’s father a task to do.  After being consoled that the Hork-Bajir were perfectly safe and he didn’t have to be afraid of them at all – a statement that did little to waylay his fear, I’m sure, considering he avoided them even while he studied them intently – and seeing what was around to keep humans occupied – assisting the Hork-Bajir in their everyday lifestyle or manipulating our few electronics – he leapt into the task.   While Aximili did not like to admit he needed the human’s help, they worked together well, though sometimes I had to give some sort of translation to each side.  It was amusing, actually.

One thing that I focused on when I didn’t help Peter and Aximili on the Zero-space communicator was making additional scoop awnings.  They would not be as good as a tent, but the additional shelter would eventually be necessary if things progressed as they had been.  I was patient with the Hork-Bajirs’ attempts at help, Matilda interest but complete inability (from lack of finger digits than any other reason), and my brother’s _gracious_ pointing out of flaws.

It was a few days before Aximili and Peter finished their project – and I will not claim I could have gone faster, even if I could have.  After all, _I_ put together a communication radio in only a few days when I first arrived.  It was not my fault that, at the time, it did not pick up anything worthwhile; I had been working alone at the time.  It would have been too risky to steal parts then.  It helped now that I knew channels the Earth-stationed Yeerks favored.  Perhaps someone might criticize me for not creating one when it would have been safer, but then, it wasn’t important or reasonable.  I had had access to Yeerk news by their computers, even if it was mostly Earth-focused.  (That was all it mattered to me, for what good would knowing the hopelessness of the war on other fronts?) I was aware that Toby Hamee was very interested and impatient for its completion.

There still was some issue with the commincator’s translator – necessary for the humans and Hork-Bajir – but that was not a problem for me.  Peter and Aximili were both so fond and over-protective of their little creation that I did not have the heart to tell them warrior short-cuts on the wiring.  It was the sort of like, I believe the human term is MacGyver-ing electronics, the tricks one learns when the fighter breaks down and you still have to get to the ship because Yeerk ships are in the area waiting to make it so you weren’t, nothing meant to last but to get you to safety.  Or at least take out as many of them when they came to get you.

Listening to Yeerk communications gave a sort of dismal pit in my stomach.  Things were getting worse.  Perhaps focusing on Earth business had done me no favors.  After all, you cannot describe a tree simply by focusing on a branch.  However, it was too late for that mistake to be mended.  Hearing everything now, it was starting to make sense.  The war outside Earth was becoming even volatile.  Yeerks were losing planets they thought they had, even while they struck at our Andalite forces.  There was shifting in the Yeerk hierarchy as Vissers rose and fell.  I cannot say the war was any better or worse than it had been before, but with the changing of the guards, it was taking a different life.  And that life was coming to Earth.

Literally.  Visser One was coming here to be dethroned and executed. And word through the grape vine was that our not-so-friendly neighborhood Visser was getting the advancement.

And if – no, I couldn’t think that way anymore.  _When_ he got it, it was over for us.  No more guerrilla warfare tactics, because that wasn’t effective against his open attack.

Listening to the chatter, this execution was long in coming.  I had been aware of Visser One’s situation the last time she was on Earth – her desire to destroy the Hork-Bajir valley to reclaim her name – but I was not aware she had been under trial under the Yeerk Council along with Visser Three.  Both ordered for execution, but stayed.  She had been sent to the Anati homeworld and failed to take it.  It was the last straw for the Yeerks.  They turn on their own kind at the first sign of weakness.

The problem was, of course, who Visser One’s host was.  There would be no pressure to attempt to rescue her if the host hadn’t been connected to us, but as a mother and wife of the humans, I was besieged.  Marco did not demand it, but his look spoke the desire.  Peter had no scruples.  

Support for it came from an unexpected quarter.  “We should get this host,” Toby Hamee said firmly.

Everyone looked at her, Peter with undisguised thanks.  She continued, speaking with all the assurance being a Seer to her people gave her.   “This host will know about Yeerk activities.  She will tell us the plans they have.”

‹She is being deposed.  Her information will be out-dated,› I argued, only to point out the fact.

“Visser One is smart.  Whatever she knows could help us, Elfangor,” Jake said.  “Anything that could stop Visser Three, we need to know.”

“Having her will strike at the Yeerks as well,” Toby Hamee continued. 

I kept my thought to myself.

“So how are we supposed to do that?” Marco demanded.  Protecting himself from getting too hopeful.  “Sure, maybe she can tell us, but Visser One smack in the middle of Yeerk pool?  We’re going to risk our butts for that?”

“Marco!” his father whispered.

“And if we rescue her, she’s still going to still have that Yeerk in her head,” he continued. 

“We’ll starve it out,” Jake said.  “It’ll be Hell, but we can do it.  We’ve done it before”

“And we should.  I have Hork-Bajir that can help you.  We will be a surprise attack, Prince Elfangor.”

“Yeah, fast and hard, before they can react,” Rachel agreed. 

‹In the Yeerk Pool.  Are you prepared to risk this Valley, your safety?› I demanded Toby Hamee.  ‹If they capture even one of your warriors – ›

“Or one of yours,” she said calmly.  “We cannot live forever in safety, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Yes, but we don’t have to throw away what little security we have, especially when we don’t know what the future holds.›

“Could we even get to the Yeerk pool?” Matilda asked, arms crossed and cutting to the heart of the matter.

‹Yes,› Aximili said before I could answer.  ‹I’ve been listening too, and there is a new tunnel that connects to where the Bug fighters dock.›

‹And it has extensive decontamination protocols to kill us in whatever morph we chose.›

‹Yes, but isn’t a Bug fighter’s shield effective against that?›

I gave my brother a look.  ‹Yes, and as you see, we have one lying around, convenient for our use.›

“So we steal one,” Rachel said happily.

Closing my main eyes, I realize this was spiraling out of my control.  And Peter said, “I think …” I opened my eyes and looked at him.  He paused, but this was his first wife, the one he still loved and he found the courage.  A lot of bad timing, I felt.  “I have an idea.”

‹Of course you do.›

 ****

I watched the bittersweet reunion unobtrusively.   For everything, it looked … it seemed like the end of the human movies, all happy and sweet, the long-lost couple coming together after being separated for years.  Happy ending, and the credits roll.

But I remembered my prophesy for after that – truly, I had never forgotten it.  There was a life after the fade to black, something humans liked to forget about.  While Peter nursed Eva, while they were happy to be together, still loved each other, there was a difference.  The cracks were there.  That didn’t mean everything would happen against Marco’s desire – he who sat beaming at his parents, his wish and desire fulfilled.  Perhaps the cracks would mend, and everything would grow stronger.  Perhaps there were happy endings like in the movie.

Yet cracks weakened everything before they strengthened.

I was going to have to question Eva about what she knew about the Yeerk plans, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so right now. 

“We did a good thing,” Matilda said.  On another creature, she might have been sneaking up, but I saw her with my stalk eye.  She had a faint smile looking at the scene.

‹If you say so.›

“You don’t think so?  Look at that.”

‹I am.›  And we saw different things.  ‹What did the Chee say?›

“Bed rest and bandage changes and antibiotics.”  She shook a pill bottle before sticking it back in her pocket.  “I’m thinking I’ll pass the duty onto Peter.”

‹Lazy human.›  I turned my main eyes away from the scene, though I kept one eye on the trio.  ‹We will need another tent, I suppose.›

Matilda started and looked at me.  “What?”

‹For Eva.›  It would not be fair to expect her to share one with her – was it former? – husband.  With her current injuries, solitude was better.  And there was the emotional concerns as well. Let them be slowly reintroduced to each other.

“Oh.  Yes.  Maybe.”  She shifted her feet, uncomfortable.  “She can bunk with me if she needs to.”

‹That is nice of you.›

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just full of Christian charity.”  Together we looked back at the family.  “So what about the Yeerk crap?”

‹You shouldn’t swear, do you know?  It is uncouth.›

She gave me a look – no doubt she was aware a few uncouth words slipped my from my thoughts just as frequently – but didn’t waste her time defending herself.  “Is Visser Three going to be the new Visser One?”

‹It is not official.  In fact, he might very well be bypassed.  Unlikely, perhaps, but we can hope.›  I gave a wan smile.  ‹I am more interested in other occupations Visser One was engaged in.   With our communicator – when they get it functional – we can at least tell those who could actually do something.›

Matilda nodded.  “And we tell them to get their butts _here_.”

‹Yes.  Preferably with their tails still attached.›

“Is that like telling humans to have some balls?” she asked, smiling crookedly.

‹I fear I do not understand the reference.›  Or I possibly did, or thought I did.  Either way, it was not very important. 

“Sure you don’t.”  Her arms on her hips, she tilted her head at me.  “Why aren’t you working on the communicator?”

‹It is Aximili’s project.  I would be meddling.›

“You always meddle.  You’re a meddler.”

‹You’re confusing me for you.›  I looked up into the sky.  ‹Finishing the communicator before I speak with Eva would not help anything.›

“It means you’d have to talk with them.”  I turned my head to her, surprised at the comment.  “It’s one thing to pass on information.  Totally another to beg for help.  You scratch my back, I scratch yours.  You don’t think they’ll come otherwise.”

I looked away, uncomfortable with her observation.  ‹They will come … in their own time.  Who are we to decide Earth is the most dire of situations the Fleet has to deal with?›

“Stop covering for them, Elfangor.  They’re not worth it.”

‹They’re my people,› I snapped. 

She pressed her lips together.  “Yeah, they are.”

I didn’t like the way she said it.  Why, I didn’t know.  ‹Once Aximili finishes and I speak with Eva, I will contact them.  It is my duty, and I will not deter from it.›

“No, you won’t.”  She looked back at Peter and Eva.  “At least they have their happy ending.”

‹No, they don’t.›  I looked back at them as well.  ‹What they have is their beginning.  Endings are for the dead.›

Matilda’s eyes were amused and sad.  “Sometimes, Elfangor, you’re very poetic.”

‹Don’t let it get around.  It’ll ruin the image I’m trying to project.›

Her mouth opened, and then she shook her head.  “No, I won’t say it.  Too easy.”  Walking away, she called over her shoulder, “Talk to Eva, Elfangor.  But not too soon.  But don’t put it off either!”

Humans.  A lesson in contradictions. 

****

Returning from my run, a lone figure caught my attention. Worried about possible infiltrators, I cautiously approached, but relief came when I saw that it was only Marco’s mother, Eva. I was curious as to why she was so far out alone, as well as a bit concerned about her mental state. Yes, I admit it, but I would think being a Controller for years would be enough to trouble even the sanest mind.

‹Good evening.›

Eva jumped in surprise and not a little scared, and I do not think it abated when she saw it was me. “Prince Elfangor! You … you scared me.”

‹ I’m sorry,› I apologized. ‹ That wasn’t my intention.›  I looked at her.  In the dim light, I could not be sure, but I believe she had been crying.  ‹Are you all right, Eva?›  Her injuries might still be giving her troubles.   Andalite and human field medicine is not exactly a fine practice.

“I’m fine,” she claimed even as she wiped her eyes.  “Just fine.”

‹I see.› I wondered if I should just take her at her word.  It was not my business. ‹Will you be out late?›

Eva gave a strange laugh.  “Marco’s right.  You are like a parent.”

I smiled.  ‹The children have instilled it into me, I supose.›

“I probably shouldn’t say it, but you’re not what I expected for the infamous _Beast_.”

Part of me felt my fur bristle at the insult, but another was resigned to the fact that her impressions of me would be based on what the Yeerks believed.  ‹Most likely not.  I have to keep them guessing somehow.  I will leave you to your thoughts.›

“No, no, you don’t have to leave.  You can stay, if you want.”

Truly, I didn’t want to, but I sensed that the human wished for some communication, even if it was only so she wouldn’t be talking to herself.  ‹Very well.›

We stood in silence for a few moments.  I found it uncomfortable, because I felt the human was going to start talking.  She didn’t disappoint.  Eva sighed again.  “This isn’t how I thought it was going to be.”

‹What?›

“Being free.  I used to think … that it be like before.  But everything’s different.”

I remained silent.

“Marco’s so much older and handsome.  I can’t believe how much he’s changed.  So brave and clever and …”

I hoped she would not say these in Marco’s presence.  The boy had enough of an ego.  I carefully decided to broach the real issue.  The faster it was met, the faster it would be over.  ‹And your husband?›

She sniffed, and I could hear her trying to not cry.  “I … I do understand he had to get on with his life, but … but I thought …”

‹I understand,› I said kindly.  ‹One still imagines life remaining the same even years later when one should know better.›

“Was she nice?  His wife, what’s her name?  No one else will talk about her with me.”

‹Nora.  And, from what I witnessed, she was very pleasant and kind.  For a math teacher.›

Eva nodded.  “I don’t hate that he got married again.”

‹I did not say you were, or should be.›

“I’m glad he was happy.”  Despite her happiness – or lack of unhappiness – Eva looked hard.  “But I try to talk with him now and it’s like I’m talking to a stranger.  He … he doesn’t understand the Yeerks, doesn’t know what we have to do!  I can’t find the man I married in him anymore.”

‹Because he isn’t.  And you are not the woman he married,› I said.

She reluctantly agreed.  “And Marco, he still thinks we’re going to get back together.  And how can we hurt him like that?  He deserves a family.”

‹He will still have a family,› I said.  ‹Families change.  You should have the right to be happy as well.  Knowing you are upset will not keep Marco happy.›

Her tone was bitter.  “I thought you Andalites believed family above all else.”

I felt insulted.  ‹We do.  And I do.  It is just … you cannot allow yourself to live an illusion.  It will only make you crazy.›

“You sound like you have personal experience,” Eva said after a bit.

‹You’re not the only one who has returned to find life is completely different than you remembered or hoped.›

“I’m sorry.”  For a second, I believed her.

‹There is nothing to apologize for. I made my own life.  I did what I had to do.  The Yeerks had to be fought.  It was the right thing to do, even if it does not always feel like it.  I would not make any different choices, as terrible as that makes me.›

“Someone has to make them,” she said, and it was clear she was reliving some of her own choices.  “What changed for you?”

I looked at her, forcing a smile.  ‹I’m sure you can gossip with the children and everyone else.  They will no doubt give you a whole soap opera of my life, full of theories and rumors and little truth.›

“I never gossip.”

Obviously, she was lying.  There is not a creature alive that does not take part in some sort of gossip.  Gossip allows for survival, for knowledge.  ‹Of course.  My mistake for implying otherwise.›

Eva wasn’t amused.  “You don’t have a high opinion of me, I guess.”

‹On the contrary, I have a relatively high opinion of you.›

She was surprised.  “Really?”

‹Why shouldn’t I?  Because you were a Controller, because you are human?›

“I thought, assumed …”  She gave a bitter laugh.  “I guess the Yeerks damaged me more than I thought.”

‹Well, even I will admit the Yeerks are somewhat correct in their opinion of Andalites.  Somewhat,› I comforted.  While I might be proud of my species, I cannot claim ignorance on how we are and how we appear to others.

She gave a weak laugh.  “I can’t imagine any other Andalite saying that.”

‹It’s all in who you talk to, I suppose.›

“Who else do you know?”

‹Aximili might as well.›  I made it sound like I was obviously desperate for a name, but with a hint of good humor.

“Maybe.”  She wiped her eyes again.  “How did you handle it?  Finding everything different?”

‹Probably worse than you,› I admitted, looking up at the sky.  ‹For a long time I didn’t even let myself see it.  Months.  Of course, I realized things were different, but I deluded myself into thinking I could just pick things up where they had been, more or less.  I was wrong.›

“What happened?”

‹Eventually it became too much that I couldn’t ignore it anymore.  And so I grew up.›

“And what about her?” she asked slyly, as if she was trying to trick me into admitting some scandalous secret, especially since there had been no mention of a female before she brought it up.

‹There is something universal about females and romance,› I sighed.  ‹It is always a female.  Or there should be, in the case of my mother’s opinion.›

Eva laughed, a true one this time.  “Your mom’s trying to hook you up?”

‹I wouldn’t phrase it like that,› I said dryly.  ‹It’s more like bludgeon me with her tail.  She’s given up on being subtle.›

“I don’t think Marco will give me that trouble.”

‹No, neither do I.›

“Hmm.  He’s like his father, you know.  Suave and charming.”

I kept myself from laughing.  ‹Mothers are blind, you know.  My mother still thinks I’m the best gardener in the known universe.  Well, that’s what she tells her friends, anyway.›  My mother was not quite that blind.

“You could kill a rock garden, I take it.”

‹In ways that the human Geneva Convention would not approve of.›

“Well, no one can be perfect.”  She was quiet.  “How did you meet my son?”

‹I crashed in front of the children when they taking a shortcut through a restricted area.  So you really should be yelling at him.›

“Maybe I will.  They must have really impressed you for you to give them the morphing ability.”

‹It was less impressed and more … empathy,› I admitted.  ‹I was hardly impressed with human teenagers.›

“Then why?”

I waved my hand.  ‹Earth is their home, their world.  I just thought they have the right to protect it, protect their families.  And I was a bit desperate.  Marco did not even wish to join until he learned you were infested.  But when he found out – you should be proud of him.›

“I am,” she said quietly.  “I wish I hadn’t made him feel like he had to do it.  Kids shouldn’t have to save their parents.”

‹My parents always say, _Children save their parents in all the ways that matter_.›

“Yeah, they do, but you know what I mean.”

‹I suppose.  But I do not understand it.  Andalites have different beliefs than humans.›

“You do?” She sounded surprised.  Humans are always shocked to find out cultures have different customs.  So very egocentric. 

‹Yes, we do.  You must have learned that during your time.›

Her face twisted.  “Honestly, learning about Andalites was never Edriss’ chief motivation.”

‹I see.  Compared to humans, Andalites believe there is no greater duty than protecting one’s family.  The children are at that age where Andalites would expect them to welcome the duty.›

Eva was still, digesting that.  “They are still too young, though,” she said finally. 

‹Maybe,› I agreed.  ‹But it is still an honor.  Their honor.  Their right.›

“They’re still too young.  They shouldn’t have such a thing put on them.”

‹I’m sorry.›

She shrugged.  “I guess it’s not really your fault.  So has she found anyone for you?”

‹Pardon?›

“Your mother.  Any girls back home?”

I gave a quiet laugh.  ‹Mother has been forbidden to invite females over when I am on leave.  It does not stop her telling me of them.›  I sighed.  ‹I understand her motivations, but it is not what I wish.  And I would not wish anyone to be my mate right now.›

“I’d think someone would like being the wife to the great Elfangor,” Eva said brightly, mocking me.

I could not deny it, but I would not admit it either.  ‹I doubt to any extreme.  Not like human females who wish to marry actors and royalty.›

She started laughing and I turned my eyes on her, surprised.  Eva made to cover her mouth and apologize.  “It’s just,” she said between the laughter, “it’s just I had this picture of you on a poster in some Andalite girl’s room, everyone swooning and making out with it.”

‹I beg your pardon!› I exclaimed, also laughing.  ‹Human females make out with posters?›

Marco had her grin.  “Only the handsome ones.”

‹I cannot thank you for that mental image.  It is actually very disturbing, to think that they could be doing that to my image in any database.›

She continued laughing.  “I can almost see it.  Maybe with one of the holo-images or something.  You can be very naughty with those.”

‹I am going to pretend I have no idea what you are talking about.›

“Don’t tell me you never fawned over some pictures of a girl.”

‹Very well, I shall not.›

“So you did, then,” Eva said smugly.

I shook my stalks in exasperation. 

“Are you ever going to bow to your mother’s dearest wish?” she asked, grinning.

Personally, I deemed it unlikely, but I would disseminate.  ‹Perhaps, if I survive the war.  There is no reason to make another widow.›  I noticed Eva’s smile fade and almost kicked myself for my thoughtless insensitivity.  ‹I did not mean –›

“No, I understand,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself.  “Part of me was glad they pretended to kill me.  I was so scared they were going to take Peter and Marco.  When we left, I hoped it made them safer.”

‹It did.›  I wanted to add the safety was at a cost, but it was understood.

“Is it terrible for me to hate Peter for falling apart like he did?” she asked. 

‹I do not believe so.›

“He should have taken care of Marco,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Not wallowed and drank and … and … Marco shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”  She looked away.  “I don’t know if I can forgive him for doing that.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I remained silent for a few moments.  ‹Perhaps we should return to camp.  It is late and the others may worry.›

“Yeah, I suppose.”  After we started walking, Eva said, “I’m glad you took care of them.”

‹I’m leading them in this war.  I hardly call that taking care of them.›

“I don’t think any other Andalite would worry about them like you do.  Would they?  We’d be just humans, cannon fodder.  But they told me about the stuff you do.  Buying candy, helping with homework, taking them to the beach, teaching them to dance.”

I felt my fur fluff slightly in an Andalite blush.  ‹Ah, they’ve told you that.›

“Yes.  And I was to thank you.  Thank you for doing that, being someone that understood what they were going through.  I know the Yeerks, and I know … I know those fights are horrifying.  I can’t imagine how they could have survived half as well without you.”

Sometimes I marvel at how much humans underestimate their young.  ‹Humans are remarkably resilient and capable.  I’m sure they would have managed.›

“No, no they wouldn’t have,” she argued, stopping.  “Without you, they’d just be a bunch of kids with no clue on how this war really is, and they would have learned the hard way, without anyone to talk to.  They still feel hope, even after these years.  I don’t think it’d have survived it if you weren’t with them.”

‹No.  Hope would have survived.  Hope is what keeps you fighting, the hope that you are making a difference, that it will someday all be over.  Hope fuels a warrior.›

“Prince Elfangor, please, accept my thank you,” Eva said.

‹Only if you can accept my apology.›

In the little light, I think she smiled, but I cannot be sure.  “I can do that.”

She started walking again, and I followed.

“Could you tell me about you and Loren?  Peter and Marco and his friends, well, I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.  Oh, no offense.”

I almost stopped.  ‹I thought you did not partake in gossip,› I said evenly.

“I’m not gossiping.”

‹Nor am I.  If you wish to know, ask her.  She loves to gossip.›

“I suppose I will.”

‹Just remember, like most gossip, it will probably be false,› I added.

Eva gave a small laugh.  “Of course it will.”

I thought the tone she spoke with was unnerving, but I chose to stop the conversation.  What could be the worst two females could speak of?

 ****


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contact, and Moving Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 47

This was it.  Initiating contact with the Andalites, to beg them to come save us.  If the little communication transponder Aximili made worked.

No, that was not fair.  It would work, if only by the force of my brother’s severe will. 

While it was being set up, I stood away from the group, breathing deeply.  Calming myself, centering my thoughts.  I only had a finite of time to say everything.  First, to tell about the situation at the Anati home world.  Eva told me Visser One had started to construct Dracon cannons on the world, but a few too many issues caused the Yeerk’s removal.  The cannons would be the feather in the cap for the replacement, even though they had nothing to do with the set-up.  Eva found that exceedingly amusing in the cynical way warriors do. 

I had to be professional.  Just the facts.  Then make my request.  My plea.

Aximili’s voice interrupted me.  ‹Elfangor, we’re ready.›

I looked at him and nodded.  One last deep breath and I stepped forward.  Matilda squeezed my arm in support, and the children all looked eager and hopeful and, for a second, oh so young.  Controlling myself, I punched in the lines of code, hands steady.  I was just a Prince giving his report.  Standard procedure.  Required.

… Perhaps there was another reason I did not attempt to make one of these that worked as it should.  Perhaps there were several.

The wait was unbearably long in its few seconds, when the dome lit up with the connection.  I straightened and gave a croaked smile when the communications officer – who else would receive our signal – demanded, ‹Who is this?  Who is initiating this contact?›

Ah, Andalite office personnel.  Can’t live with them, can’t get away with snapping your tail at them.  At least not without getting reprimanded and having to give an apology.  The apology was the worst part.  You had to sound like you meant it.

‹This is War-Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtual, formerly of the Dome Ship _Water Flower_ , currently on Earth.  This communication is neither secure nor can it be long-lasting.  To report: the Anati moons have numerous Dracon cannons that have been completed, numbering in the least of 15 on each of the three moons lined along the equator and intervals of fifty degrees above and below in a classic _Pwen_ configuration, and if a fleet should go there without proper planning, they will be obliterated.  To report: the Yeerks have three spies on the – ›

I spoke fast and efficient, leaving no break or pause, and no thoughts that were unnecessary.  Everything Eva said, even if I doubted the use, was spoken.  The humans and Aximili looked at me, perhaps astonished and terrified, for I rarely appeared so to them.  Such a presence was only required for other Andalites, and only then the superiors who wouldn’t know their tail from their … ahem, backsides.  

And then I went onto the Earth situation.  ‹Finally, to report: the Earth situation continues to deteriorate exponentially.  Visser Three is rumored to become Visser One and the attack will turn to a more pro-active and open approach.  No less than 20,000 hosts have been taken.  Reinforcements are required immediately otherwise the planet will be taken, in the least, within one Earth year.  End of reports and awaiting further instruction.›

There, done.  I could breath now.

Silence was on the other end, silence I doubted was from the small piece of machinery.  However, I was tempted to give it a tap with my hoof.  I did not have _time_ for shocked silences.

‹Prince Elfangor, this is Captain Jawei-Lantus-Quents.  It is an honor to hear from you.›  A different, respective voice, but a leery one as well.  The name wasn’t familiar, leaving me no idea on what to expect from him.

‹I beg we dispense of formalities and conduct our business, Captain Jawei,› I said.  ‹What actions will be taken for Earth’s defense?›

 Another uncomfortable silence.  ‹We are sure you do not exaggerate Earth’s situation, Prince Elfangor.›  Yes, not with that call in I gave, nor how I reported Earth last, made it seem like the least important to me, showed I was more concerned with the safety of my fellow warriors.  (And I was, in a way that I really wasn’t.) A Prince learns a few manipulating tricks.    ‹And we thank you for your information, though we wonder how you came about it.›  Suspicious.

‹We captured the former Visser One prior to her execution and extracted the information with all the force appropriate for such a time.  Visser One was responsible for the situation on the Anati home world, and she kept informed on many other Yeerk activities for her own personal gain.›

Disbelief.  ‹You _captured_ …›

‹We like to stay busy on this planet, Captain Jawei.›  Damnit!  I cursed my thoughts for being so flippant.  This was _not_ the time.  I quickly rallied.  ‹And when can we expect reinforcements to reach Earth?›  Act like you expect it, you might get it.  And you can act righteously indignant when they deny it.  It’s hard to do that when you ask for something, made it seem like you’re the little orphan Oliver asking for more food. 

‹The High Command will consider the words.  War-Prince Elfangor always deserves the honor of being heard.  However, in our opinion, and given your record …›

‹My service has always been for the good of the People,› I interrupted.  Never take it with your tail tip down.  Put words in their heads they cannot deny.   Direct the conversation.  ‹The _Andalite_ people, and my loyalty does not waver despite my time on Earth.›

‹Yes, of course …›

When in doubt or desperate, hit them where it hurts.  ‹Furthermore, I am becoming distressed that the _human children_ I am leading have more tail than veteran Andalite warriors who should be doing the duty to fight the Yeerk threat.›

Sputtering.  ‹Prince Elf – ›

It was too late for him to protest. “Bug fighters!”

“Elfangor, we got to bail.”

“Morph now!”

End forcefully.  ‹I expect the reinforcements sent forthwith,› I said quickly.  _Expect_ it!   But be polite!  ‹Please excuse me while I prepare to not die.›  And then I grabbed the communicator and tried to do just that, though my hooves were required to stay off the ground for the rest of the night, tender from the burns.

It meant I could not easily escape when Matilda altered between scolding me for my impertinence and laughing at it, and making sure my hooves remained bathed in cool water to help with the swelling.

“Are you always such an ass?” she asked while she sat on a rock, dangling her legs in the cool water, a towel over her shoulders. 

‹You shall have to tell me.›   I shifted my hooves a little, wincing at the shocks of subdued pain.

“No, really?  I mean, you literally told that jerk that –”

‹I made an unbiased observsation,› I defended, though not entirely.  ‹I would not have said such a thing on a ship, not unless I was very upset.  Earth had made me less prone to monitor my thoughts.  Humans are very bad influences.›

“Yeah, blame us.  That’ll help.”

‹I hope so.  That is the second time from Earth I’ve spoken so … freely to a superior officer.  I’m in danger of getting my fur shaved.›

“You didn’t say anything but the truth.”

‹Yes, and we all know how much truth politicians enjoy hearing.  Earth or Andalite.›  I sighed.

“So you think they’ll come?”

‹I … tried, used the tricks I knew and have learned, but … I made a mistake.›

She snorted.  “We heard you.  You mouthed off.  You set a bad example for the kids.”

I shook my head and focused my eyes on the ripples in the water.  ‹I gave a timeframe for the Yeerk conquering of Earth.  It was … it had to be said, it is my job, but …›

“What, Elfangor?” Her voice was gentle.

Turning my head, I tried not to show my true feelings.  Tried to be light.  ‹Thinking like a member of Council … is it worth it to come here?  Is it reasonable, on this backwater plant where a mouthy Prince is stranded, to waste our resources on a civilization that has no benefit to us?›  I quieted and looked away. I said the last in a quiet voice. ‹To risk another defeat and lose the little morale we Andalites still possess?›

“You think they’re scared to come here?”

‹No,› I said sharply.  ‹You are not thinking like a commander.  To send forces _here_ means they cannot be sent _elsewhere_.›  Then I laughed bitterly.  ‹Though maybe you are right.  The Andalite Council fears Visser Three. One.  Whichever.  He cost us many battles when he was first taken.  _I_ cost us,› I corrected.  ‹They _avoid_ going where he is.  Because he _understands_ Andalites.  He knows enough of our ways.  It is _better_ to not remind the People of our great loss, my great failure.  If they come here, everyone will be reminded that Andalites are _not_ infallible.  We _can_ be taken before we could stop it.  And we can _stay_ captives for _years_.  Even with our mighty sharp tails and delicate throats.  No, better to keep the news on other Vissers and other battles.  More _comforting_.›

Matilda blinked at me, didn’t have any words.  Her toes wiggled in the water.  “Maybe it’s not like that.”

‹An Andalite without a tail, even figuratively, is a sad, pitiful thing.  Perhaps this is his solitude, terrible as it is.›

She splashed the water at me with her foot.  “Stop it.”

‹Stop what?›

“Being so depressing.  They’ll come.  You know they will.”

I wished I could feel as certain.  ‹We hope.›

Matilda shrugged and slipped off her rock and into the water.  She walked deeper until it was up to her waist.  “It’s all we got, so we can’t go wasting it.”

‹I suppose not.  I thought you complained that the water was too cold for bathing?›

“Freezing.  Hooves feeling better?”

They were numbing, at least, though so was my entire underside as well.  ‹I will survive.  It was my own fault for not paying attention to where I ran.  An _aristh’s_ mistake.›

“Elfangor, you only got four eyes.  You’ll be able to eat tomorrow, won’t you?”

Amused and touched at her concern, I said, ‹Hooves heal fast.  The burns are not severe and I should be able to stand for long periods by then without being too uncomfortable.›

“You’re being a big dork, you know.  Just morph.”

I made a face.  ‹Such a use is hardly proper or fitting.  And a little pain has never killed anyone.›

“Yeah, but hypothermia has!  Here, keep this dry for me.”  She tossed the towel, and it was only because my tail was long enough to snag it in the air that it did not hit the water.  And then she ducked under the water for a second and came up teeth chattering.

‹Perhaps you should follow your own advice,› I said, amused.

Hugging herself as she came back, she said, “Do you know how much I miss hot water faucets?”

‹As much as you miss an indoor toilet?›

Snatching her towel and holding it tightly around her, she gave me a look.  “Honestly, I don’t know which I miss more.  Come by the fire when you stop torturing yourself.  Last thing we need is an Andalite with a cold because he’s a moron.  We can barely get by with you being a moron.”

‹It is no wonder, with this treatment, I learned how to speak so rudely to my superiors.›

Matilda slipped on her shoes and gave me a grin.  “Elfangor, there’s rude.  And then there’s the truth.  I think I taught you the latter.”

‹Rudely.›

 ****

There were a range of conversations I did not like to deal with.   I have found that during my time on Earth, humans have an unerring ability to speak just in that range.

“So?” Eva’s arms were crossed over her chest and she stood straight and tall.  Part of me wondered she was always so confident, or if her tenure of Visser One had unconsciously trained her.  “Are you going to give me the morphing ability soon?”

This was a fine example.  What I didn’t like to deal with were conversations that I had no warning about.  If I had been human, my mouth would have been hanging open.  As it was, I wasn’t blinking.

‹Pardon?›

“The morphing ability,” she repeated.  “When am I going to get it?”

My thought processes hadn’t returned, and I was dimly aware that young Pela Quapa and her friends were still waiting for their next story, looking between us with the naïve Hork-Bajir expression.  ‹Little ones, I fear you shall have to seek me out later.  Go, run off.›

There was some complaining in their native tongue, but the Hork-Bajir were placated by a promise of a very interesting story and left.  I watched them go before focusing on Eva.  ‹Now, what?›

She looked exasperated at me, her face impatient.  “You can give me the morphing ability.  When are you?”

By her expression, I did not think it wise to admit that I never thought about the possibility.  It wasn’t because of her history or even being human; I just did not think it. After all, it is not a practice Andalites do commonly, despite my track record.  ‹I was not aware you wished it.›

Eva’s face twisted in a parody of a smile.  “I want to destroy those slugs.  You think this is going to cut it?” She indicated her body, still healing.

Was this a sort of trick question?  Female humans, when they indicated their bodies, could be very definite about the answers they wanted.  ‹It … would not be very … terrifying,› I finally said.

“Exactly.”

I cast her a long look, trying to think.  Aside from Marco, none of the humans had actively demanded the power once they were aware I had it.  The other children took my offer as a way to fight, and Matilda had had it foistered upon her to save her life, but they never demanded it be given.  There was no need to waste the time to ask her if she was aware what she was asking;  Eva _knew_ what the Yeerks were capable of.  And she was willing to do _anything_ to stop them.

‹What does your husband say?›

Her nostrils flared.  “Peter doesn’t control me.”

‹I did not mean to insult you,› I said quickly.  ‹I assumed you spoke, that perhaps you both were seeking the gift.  I am quite aware human females are exceedingly independent.›

Eva gave a bit of a smile.  “Yeah.  I can see that Loren’s at least trained that into you Andalites.”  After her jest, she looked serious.  “Peter won’t.  He doesn’t understand anything about this, what we have to do.  And he couldn’t do anything that has to be done.  He’s too gentle and kind.  I don’t want him to lose that,” she finished quietly, looking away.

‹I understand.›  And it was true.  Marco’s father still did not understand the true threat the Yeerks presented to Earth.  All he saw were two aliens and a bunch of kids controlling his life, his first wife siding with them, and he did not like it.  ‹I do not have the _Escafil_ device here.  It is hidden.›  I rolled my eyes.  ‹Neither the children nor my brother know where it is.›  They’ve used to too often without my permission, and it was better if only one knew where it was. 

“I get that.  When can you get it?”  Strange that she just accepted she would get it, but, then again, of course I would comply with her request.  I could not in good conscience hold out when an adult wished to fight, especially not when I was leading her own son.

Considering what I had gone through to shield it from the Helmacrons – and later, the Yeerks – I winced.  ‹The shielding encasement that keeps it from being detected will take a day to remove.›

Her nod was business-like.  “I can handle that.”

A smile was escaping before I could stop it.  ‹I am glad my schedule works to your approval.  I would hate to tell you to, what does Cassie say … taste tough cookies?›

She had the grace to blush.  “Bad habit.”

‹All the good ones tend to be,› I dismissed.  ‹I suppose you spoke with the others, already, about your decision.›  Part of me wondered how Marco accepted it.  He worked hard to save her from the danger, and she was going to throw herself back into it. 

“No.”

My stalks raised at her admission.  ‹No one?›

“Loren probably knows, since I asked her about it.  She figured you probably were waiting for me to do something.”

I wondered if she actually thought that, or if she was trying to protect me.  But I was concerned for Marco, and for Peter.  Gaining their loved one only to risk losing her could be a shock the humans may be ill-prepared to deal with.  ‹I am sure your family will respect your decision,› I said, in a manner I hoped reminded her tactfully of their concerns.  She was probably unused to thinking about another’s.  But I did not see any sign. 

There were other things to worry about.  ‹It will be difficult for you to acquire a wide variety of creatures, I fear.  Cassie’s barn will have a few creatures of use, and a Hork-Bajir will offer its DNA for you, I’m sure.  It would be risky to go to the Gardens, but we could make the outing.›

“Yes, we can.”  Again, the certainty.  “Any animals you recommend?”

I thought.  ‹A wolf is very versatile.  Cassie favors it and it is likely you could acquire one.  Rachel uses a grizzly bear, very powerful.  Jake chooses a tiger, swift and agile.  Dangerous.  As is the cougar, which Tobias’ mother favors.  Tobias usually finds himself as a hawk in battles, as he is often our look-out prior; it is not a safe or powerful morph, in relation, but he manages.  Other times he tends to be a bear or lynx, usually the cat.  And your son takes the form of a gorilla.  All are useful forms.›

“And you just stay yourself.”

‹As does my brother.  It is better if an Andalite is regularly seen,› I said.  ‹And Andalites are very good in a battle.›

“When they do fight instead of running away or doing nothing.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.  No doubt this was her experience as Visser One speaking.  ‹Do you have an animal in particular you wish to acquire?›

Eva gave me a long look.  “What could get past an Andalite?”

Despite my distaste for her question, I knew where it stemmed from.  She saw – correctly – that the new Visser One was the threat.  A creature that could get to an Andalite should be able to get past Hork-Bajir.  The Taxxons were no concern, humans little more.  Still, I did not like the implication.  ‹A flea.›

Her face sneered, mocking in its grin.  “Scared, Prince Elfangor?”

‹You asked what could get past an Andalite.  What you want is to defeat an Andalite.  One-on-one, I do not boast nor lie when I say I could easily deal with any of the forms my warriors favor.  There is a varying level of difficulty for each, but I could, and so could Visser One.  If he is ready, I do not think there is any animal on Earth that could surprise him, not withstanding his endless supply of big and dangerous forms he has at his disposal.›

“There has to be something,” she insisted.

‹Perhaps if you could go back several millennia and get one of those giant dinosaurs.  The big one with the teeth, it was in the movie, it ate the lawyer.  Named after the dog.  Or those little vicious ones, but I think he could take one of those as well.›

She glared at me.  “There’s nothing on Earth?”

‹Nothing I can think of, but there might be.  It is not surprising.  Andalites evolved the way we have because we were hunted eons ago by a creature called _Cannitus_.  Fast, plated harder than our blades could break.  Of course they don’t exist anymore, except in the stories.  Earth does not have such a creature.›

Eva frowned and looked away.  “Tomorrow you’ll give me the power?”

I was annoyed at her presumption that I would go out of my way to retrieve the cube for her, but it was better, I suppose, to have another warrior.  ‹I will leave tonight.  If.›

“If?  If, what?”

‹If,› I continued, smiling, ‹you agree to tell a story to the little ones for me.  They expect one, and they will complain to their elders if they are not appeased.  We cannot have fighting among our allies.›

For a long moment, Eva stared at me, and then she threw her head back and laughed.  “Dios, Loren’s right.  You are an ass.”  Controlling herself, she smiled and held out her hand.  “Deal.”

I took it.  ‹Deal.›

 ****

It was the Earth World War III.  Cold, dangerous, taking lives of innocent bystanders.  If I had known this was what was going to happen, would have led to this carnage, I would have done the unthinkable.  But I listened to what was right, and _this_ is what happened.

Thankfully, WWIII was centered on the _other_ side of the Valley, and there was not a force on Earth that was going to make me walk into it. 

 _And_ that would be the _eighth_ time my name – or non-polite words used to presumably describe me – was used.

I lowered my ears and tried to continue reading the news and ignore the family battle.  It was hard to believe so few humans could be loud enough to make it hard to listen to our home-made Zero-space transponder. 

“You must stop this argument,” Toby Hamee said after several more long minutes, having come from the nest of Hork-Bajir.

I only put a stalk eye on her, the one that had watched her approach.  ‹It is a family matter and not my place.›  I hoped it was not obvious I was cringing at the prospect.

She scowled at me, for once appearing the age she ought.  “You went into it by giving the human the morphing ability.”

‹Her choices in response to her family are not my responsibility.›

Toby Hamee glared.  “They are scaring the children and upsetting several adults.  This has to stop.”

That made me turn my main eyes to her, while I actively examined the other Hork-Bajir.  Yes, they did seem be uneasy.  ‹Then you should speak with them.  Or you could send Tobias’ mother.  She can be diplomatic.›

“You have not noticed, but Loren and Aximili departed near the start of the argument.”

‹Where did they go?› I asked, surprised.   They had not said anything.

“Loren said they were going anywhere but here.  I believe they went flying to check on Yeerks and to visit Tobias.”

‹Then I guess you should speak with them.›

Toby Hamee was quiet for a long time, and then finally said with great reluctance, “They do not respect me and will not listen.”

‹I beg your pardon?› 

Her face was bitter.  “You understood me, Prince Elfangor.  They will not.  Eva has no respect for Hork-Bajir.  She sees us as weak and stupid.  Peter thinks we do not understand anything.”

‹You cannot mean to say you are afraid to speak with them.›

She straightened.  “I am _not_.”  There was a pause while she tried to get her words.  “I lead my people.  And we fight together.  There is respect.  You do not impose your desires on me beyond what you think is necessary, and neither do I.  But they do not.”

Still confused, I did not understand her point. It wasn’t my responsibility to keep the humans in line, at least not mine alone.  If they were being ill-behaved, they would have to be spoken to and made to see that they could not act this way.  Surely she realized that. 

And then it came to me.  This was open rebellion.  The Hork-Bajir Toby Hamee led were easily led, looking to her for guidance and care.  I treated her with the respect a warrior was due, and I made sure my warriors did the same.  But now, for the first time in her limited experience, there were beings that would not be so polite.  It was a lesson they don’t teach you – how to deal with ones who _do_ _not_ want to be led by _you_ and will let you know it and do whatever they can to make it so _they_ are in charge, _not_  you.

I gave her a hard look.   Her youth may have been working against her, but it couldn’t.  The only advice I could give was the same another Prince had given me when I started to have to command warriors older than me: when you are in charge, be in charge.  ‹Toby Hamee, you must remember, this is _your_ home and we are here at _your_ leisure.  You _do not_ accept such treatment, not if you want to lead successfully.  Do not set precedent by asking an Andalite to help solve your problems.›

“I understand what you are saying, Prince Elfangor,” she said after a long moment.  “My people lost once by relying on Andalites.”

I had not said _that_.  But I instead said, ‹Speaking softly and carrying a big stick might be helpful in some situations, but I find that speaking loudly and flashing a blade help in a select few.›  I flinched at my name being mentioned again.  ‹Speaking loudly especially.›

Her face twitched in a smile.  “It might be difficult.”

Smiling, I decided to dispense another bit of advice I found helpful.  ‹Imagine them as very naughty young Hork-Bajir.  You’ll find, sometimes, it is the only way you’ll be able to forgive them.  And to hold your tongue from the especially inappropriate comments you shouldn’t be saying.›  I looked at the fight.  ‹And they are being very naughty.  They’ve insulted your guest nine times.›

Toby Hamee gave a deep, quiet laugh.  “Actually, I believe it has been several more times.”

‹I do not like to eavesdrop.›  I nodded at her.  ‹I would wish you good luck, but for this, they’re the ones who need it.  Remember _that_.›

She nodded and left, going right towards the arguing humans, and I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.  That had been too close.

 ****

The trick to getting to human military ships that are currently stationed in the middle of the ocean is to not have to go to them.  I know it sounds obvious, but it is true.  It is also, unfortunately, of no use when you have to get to a ship named after an American president. 

After reporting to everyone what had been learned – and it had taken Matilda, Aximili, and Marco a time to get everyone – Eva had an idea.  With her a full warrior is our group, I was beginning to feel what Toby Hamee must have felt.  The human had spent years as Visser One, and it showed.  If I was like the Hork-Bajir Seer, youth’s inexperience and uncertainity worrying my head, she might have been able to usurp me.  As it was, I had to step more often than I ever did with the children.  It was an unusual experience.   If perhaps one of the children seemed be in charge of the others, he did not attempt to elevate his rank and take over, instead acting as a lieutenant to my capatin.  Matilda might argued with me, but I never felt as if she was trying to lead.  She was always just the person I had to convince that my way was best or to grudgingly accept when her’s was. When Toby Hamee and I combined forces, there was a tacit understanding that each of us were responsible for our own forces and we each respected the boundary even while we tried to tell each other what we needed to do.  Eva gave me none of those feelings, instead bringing to mind the politics of too many Princes on a Dome Ship. 

The problem with Eva is that, while her ideas were sound, her methods were not.  At least not if I wanted to walk out with as many warriors as I walked in.  I said the flaw in her plan.  ‹Hijacking a jet is not safe.  It warns the Yeerks we are arriving and would make the humans jumpy.›

“Then how do you think we’re going to get there fast enough to do anything?” she snapped.  “Or are you going to do nothing, like a typical Andalite?”

I noticed Marco give me an embarrassed, apologetic look, while the other children and my brother looked between us.  Matilda glared at her.  “Just shut up, Eva,” she said.  “I’m sure –”

Eva whirled.  “We don’t have _time_ to do anything else!  We do this my way.”

“I think it’ll work,” Rachel said, nodding.  Great.  Two loose cannons.

‹Hijacking a jet is not safe,› I repeated.

“We don’t –”

‹Flying one under orders is.›

“And how –”

‹Captain Andrew L. Eyt, serial number 254-34-7661, is to report to the local air base for an emergency transfer to the _USS George Washington_.  The orders were received, coincidentally, five minutes after the times the Yeerk transmission were given, and Captain Andrew L. Eyt, despite an admirable service record, also did not exist prior to those orders.›

There was silence. 

Eva blinked at me.  “What?”

‹He is to report in one Earth hour, to leave in one-point-five hours.›  I focused my eyes on her.

“You just thought that up, like that?” Matilda asked, snapping her fingers.  Marvel was in her voice.

‹I reached the same conclusion Eva did – the only transportation we could use would be a human jet.  Or a Yeerk ship.  If we wished stealth, a jet would be required.  Of course, first I determined what was at those coordinates, then realized a simple, _discrete_ transfer would get us to the ship and did the appropriate paperwork.  Andalite logic.›  My tone was cold. 

“One hour.  That’s not much time,” Jake said, breaking the stalemate.

‹No.  It is not.  We should leave, even though Andalites routinely do _nothing_.›

Eva’s lips remained pressed in a tight line.  “Then let’s go, _Andy_.”

 ****

I left the jet and went to my “commanding officer,” Captain Plummer, did the motions I had seen on the human movies.  In either way, I was respectable.  This was military.  I knew military. 

“Glad to have you aboard, Captain Eyt,” Plummer said.  If he was curious about the transfer, he did not show it in front of his officers.

“Thank you, Captain Plummer.  A pleasure to be aboard, Sir.”

“Ensign Casey will show you to your quarters.”  A young human saluted, and I nodded.   “Your briefing will be at 1630 hours.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He looked at me.  “We’re expecting Admiral Carrington to arrive.”  Ah, the look familiar on any superior officer when even more superior officers were coming onto their tuff.  It said, _if you dare embarrass me, you’ll be pulling hull scraping duty for the next three years_.

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

I saluted and then followed Ensign Casey below deck.  Hopefully the uniform I had stolen from the land base would fit me, otherwise I was going to have to steal one here.  That wouldn’t look good on Captain Eyt’s record.

‹Now what do we do, Elfangor?› Tobias asked.

‹Once in my quarters, we will demorph.  If we can find the laundry room, Eva and your mother will steal a uniform to blend it with the officers.  They will be ready to morph when the time comes.  Aximili and the rest of you children will spread out between us.  And we will wait for the Yeerks.›

‹And then?› Jake asked.

‹And then we wing it.›

Marco gave a laugh.  ‹Rachel’s favorite sort of plan.›

During this time, the ensign had shown me to my quarters – small, cramped, and I was glad I was never in the human military – and, after telling me how to get to the laundry room, the CIC, and galley, I closed the door, send the insects on the cot, striped, and demorphed.

So did everyone else.

For everyone’s information, the quarters on a human ship are not big enough for two Andalites, two adult human females, and five human teenagers to reside in at the same time, and I would strongly recommend avoiding being in that situation.  The children and Aximili remorphed quickly while the females sat on the cot, and I redressed into the uniform.  It fit, perhaps snugly, but it would do.

“You clean up nice, Andy,” Matilda teased, whistling as I set the hat on my head.

“I am glad you approve.  I will be back with your own uniforms.”  Carefully I slipped out, making sure I did not open the door so much that it could be seen that I had two under-dressed females in there.  There would have been words.  With my bag, I followed the directions Ensign Casey had given me.

There was only one soldier there, doing his duty.   He saluted me – I was higher rank – and I told him to be at ease, and he continued his job.  I merely emptied the duffle bag into a basket.  The cleaned uniforms were hanging and folded along a different wall.  The soldier did not even notice when I took two that were not for me, and I left before he could. 

The females dressed in their uniforms – both too big for them – and we each took two of the insects-morphed youngers.  We didn’t bother with words, to tell each other to be careful.  Overhead, I could hear the sounds of a helicopter.

“Just in time,” Eva whispered.

I gave her a quick glance while I led us to the deck.  “Do not act rash.”

We arrived on deck just as the helicopter was finishing its landing.  Human officers were lined in up the welcoming, and we quickly joined them, standing as close as I dared.  Stood at attention and waited for the beings to disembark.

“That’s the Admiral,” Eva whispered to us, jerking her chin a little to indicate a dark-haired human.

“Recognize him?” Matilda asked.

“No.  But _that_ one.”

“Chapman,” both Matilda and I said.  It seemed like this was the Yeerks arriving. 

“The Admiral’s one of them.”  Eva’s tone made it impossible for argument, and her experience even less so.  “He’s Visser Two.  A Visser would accept no less.”

“So what do we do?”

“We wait for the chance to make our move.  We do not know what this plan entails,” I said.  “If there are more human ships involved, what they need to do.  What is out in the water twenty miles away that the Americans do not know about.”

The Controllers went by other humans and us, and we gave the salutes.  Where they were going, I wasn’t sure, but how could we follow them without drawing attention? 

Eva had no such compulsion.  She started to walk, and without thinking a grabbed her arm.  “We cannot risk being noticed,” I hissed.  She shook me off.

“We have them in our sight.  We can’t lose them.”  I was glad I had not stolen human weaponry, seeing that maniac look familiar of the _dedicated_ on her face.

“I think there are only a few spots they can go,” Matilda said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.  We both gave her a look, but she ignored it.  “He’s an Admiral.  I’m not stupid.  One, they broadcast where he is whenever he’s there, with that Admiral on Deck, don’t they?  They do on TV.  Two, he probably has to meet Captain Plummer, like you did.  So where’s Captain Plummer?”

“There’s something wrong when you get this sort of information from television shows, and we have to rely on it,” I muttered.  For once, it appeared Eva agreed with me.

There was something even worse when the announcement went over the speaker.   She grinned smugly at us.  “I bet the hanger deck is that way,” she said, pointing to the direction the Controllers had disappeared before almost skipping away.

We slipped in unobtrusively while superior officers exchanged pleasantries.  Too far to hear, but near enough to realize they were leaving.  We followed them until we reached the point where we couldn’t, for they were to go into the private quarters.

Eva was quick.  “We can’t let them –”

Matilda was quicker.  Before I could even order her not to, she walked and then tripped right into Admiral Carrington.  Her hand moved even while she spoke, the opposite of a pickpocket.  “Excuse me, Admiral.  I stumbled.”

He was annoyed, but said nothing, and she continued walking down a path. 

“She’s got balls,” Eva approved.

“Indeed.”  I spoke to Aximili and Jake, the two inside.  ‹Are you two having difficulties?›

‹I assume we are on the Admiral, brother,› Aximili said.  ‹The roach senses are not very strong, but they are speaking about a gift.›

‹They’re opening it,› Jake added. 

“You know what that gift is,” Eva said darkly. 

I nodded.  “The door is locked.”

Matilda came up.  “What’d I miss?”

I tried to think.  A full battle was too dangerous, for I doubted there would much more room in there than there had been in my quarters.  Ten Controllers, armed. And that did not include the human soldiers.  They would not understand much, but they would understand that dangerous creatures were attacking an Admiral and their captain.  Admirable, but we couldn’t have them adding to our difficulties.  We had to spread the Controllers out, distract them.  Safely.

And then I thought of an idea, took out the cockroaches.  ‹Cassie, Tobias, demorph quickly And prepare to fly.›  I tossed them a distance down the hall, ignoring their yells of surprise.  They were cockroaches though, and would survive.

“What? Out in the open?” Matilda hissed, looking at the officers just down a bit.  Eva was already turning into her form, her hair lengthening and turning shaggy.  I frowned at her initiative, but it might come to use. 

‹What about the rest of us?› Rachel demanded.

‹You will be patient!›  Thinking quickly, I started to walk towards the officers.  ‹Eva, remove Rachel and Marco and _then_ morph.  You, stay human.  You two,› I said, looking at the blobs that were Cassie and Tobias, ‹skunks.›

“What?”

“You can’t –”

My own uniform was becoming tight as I walked to the sailors.  They prepared to salute, then noticed by face.  Blue.  While I still had my balance and my upper body strength, I grabbed their heads and collided them.  They were only stunned, and I was a little upset.  That usually worked in the movies.  (Why was it Matilda’s human entertainment knowledge was correct, but _mine_ wasn’t?  It didn’t seem fair.)  But before they could yell, their heads were then in the wall.  Stunned more or unconscious, I let them fall, if only because I was ripping through the clothing, and soon fully Andalite. 

There was fighting inside.  ‹Brother, I believe – ›

‹I know!›  I looked around.  Eva was fully lion, the uniform tattered around her, and we almost had two small skunks.  Two little cockroaches were on the wall, skittering down.  Matilda was looking at me, cross and curious.  The yelling inside ceased.  A bad sign. 

‹They’re bottlenecked in there,› Eva said, realizing it.  ‹They run out, we attack.›

‹Yes.  Rachel and Marco, warn us of soldiers arriving.›

‹But we could – ›

‹Rachel!  There is no more _room_!›

I looked at Matilda.  ‹Knock hard and say you have an urgent message for Admiral Carrington about Mission 9466.  Get the door open.  And then get away from the battle.›

She blinked.  “What?”

‹I meant what I said.  We can’t fit another large creature here.  And you two know what to do.›

“Don’t spray me,” Matilda said.  “Otherwise I’m grounding you for life.”

‹So Cassie still could,› her son said smugly.

‹It’s always skunk butts with you, Elfangor,› Marco chided.

‹Jake and Aximili, make it difficult for the Admiral to escape,› I finished, and then stepped aside.  Eva was on the other.  Matilda looked between us, and then at the two little creatures already in position.  I nodded.

She knocked rapidly, hard.  “Urgent message for Admiral Carrington!  Mission orders for 9466!  Admiral Carrington, an urgent message for you, Sir!”

It was surprising how fast the door opened.  Matilda almost took a step back. 

“What is it, Corporal?”

Matilda smiled cheerfully and held her nose.  “It stinks.”

And it did.

Minor flaw in the plan.  Skunk stench is overpowering.  Even prepared for it, I was unprepared, and so were Eva and Matilda.  The lion has an acute sense of smell, and she recoiled instinctively.  Matilda had ducked down the hall and was dry-heaving as she tried to run. 

The Controllers inside had even less warning, and a more direct hit in an enclosed space.  There was yelling and gagging, and, as I hoped and as Eva predicted, they ran out.  In the panic, Eva and I incapacitated almost half of them before they realized who we were.

“Andalites!”

More or less.

One would be surprised how distracting a scent can be in a battle.  It’s disorienting, a shock.  Could you recover from it in time?

“Shoot them!”

“They’re on me!”  That would be the Visser.  “Get them off!  They can’t stop the Yeerk empire!”

The Controllers were staying in the room, fighting the smell, and it was with little surprise I saw Eva rush in.  I almost cursed, but when gunshots came with her arrival, I didn’t have a choice. Grabbing one of the fallen weapons, I followed.  A lion is quick, especially with the element of surprise, and with a human brain, even more dangerous, but she required assistance.   My finger was faster than his. 

Jake and Aximili had grown enough to be trouble, but not enough to lose the cockroach’s speed and agility.  (Or perhaps to lose its lack of a sense of smell.)  Even slapping himself did not help, and it seemed the Visser was realizing he would fare better if he stripped.  But by then, Eva had mercilessly mauled three Controllers, heading straight for the Visser.  Ignoring the gunshots that hit her, her huge bulk lunge and teeth bit down on the Visser’s leg. 

He screamed in pain.

‹EVA!›  I roared.  She could have hurt my brother or Jake, or possibly fatally wounded the Visser.  We needed all three of them alive!

‹He’s still alive.  But I can easily fix that!› Her voice was for everyone. 

“KILL IT!” the Visser screamed.

‹Aximili, Jake, are you fine?›

‹We sort of bailed into his shirt,› Jake reported, and I saw said shirt several feet away.  Bailed might have been code for, accidentally went with it.  Good, at least they were away from Eva’s teeth.

‹Keep yourselves safe.›

‹Elfangor, you’re going to have company!› Marco called.

Again I cursed.  The only thing going right was that we seemed to have the Controllers – these ones, were there more on the ship? – under control.  Visser Two was screaming, ranting, relatively unharmed.   Save Chapman – a Yeerk too cowardly to truly fight and risk permenant injuries – the rest seemed incapacitated.  What to do, what to do?

I did what I had to. ‹Do you have a firm hold on him?  Take him,› I said to Eva before running down the hall.  The Visser screamed in pain.  It was hard to run on a human ship.  No space, obstacles I had to jump over, but there, a room, and I pushed it open.  Once Eva – slower because of her burden – and our captive were in, slammed it shut.  And then incapacitated the human who had witnessed our arrival.

The Visser was no longer screaming, but laughing.  “It’s too late, it’s too late!  You can’t stop it!” 

Eva growled.  ‹Stop what?›

He continued laughing and it occurred to me that he might be mad. Whether that was his natural state or the result of the endorphins and pain, I couldn’t tell.  “I’ll never tell you, you filth!”

I gave him a long, hard look.  There were always the die-hards, the ones who would never succumb to any form of … questioning, no matter what the cost.  And then there were the ones who only thought they were die-hards, but they had a weakness that would make them sing like an Earth canary. What kind was he?

There, in his eyes … it _was_ madness.  He wouldn’t speak, at least not in the time that I could use the information.  The hours the Yeerk communication mentioned were close, one less than a half an hour away.  No.  He wouldn’t speak unless I did the unthinkable, the lines I avoided crossing.  Torture or worse.  But now, were my tattered ideals enough to stop me from saving the planet by any means necessary?  Could I make him?  Could I make it so the information would leave his lips?

Frozen at the future, I kept staring at him, at him lying bound and helpless, and then past him.  And then … there was my answer.  How to do it.  I saw the weakness nearly every Controller had, the hole to exploit.  ‹Yes.  Yes, you will.›  .

He stopped laughing.  “I don’t care what you do to me, you Beast.  I don’t care if I live or die.  Only failure is unacceptable.  And what can you do?  You’ve made the entire ship have to look for me!  You’re outnumbered!  You failed!”

Eva’s growl was even louder. 

He was right.  If I wanted my plan to have any chance of success, I had to get ride of the humans who would stop us.  I kept my eyes on him before going to the computer.  Looked at the counsels.  Looked at the speaker system.  And then morphed back to Captain Eyt and picked up the receiver even while I typed in some computer nonsense about overloads and fires, made alarms go off on every deck.  If these reports were true, the entire ship would have been on its way down to the ocean floor, even without the aid of an iceberg.  “Attention, all hands.  Attention, all hands.  This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.  Abandon ship.  Abandon ship.  All hands, abandon ship.”

Carefully setting the mouthpiece back down, I said, “Now we will be less outnumbered.”

It would be crazy, I knew that.  Half the humans obeying, the other half trying to stop it.  I stripped the officer I had knocked unconscious and dressed, though his shoes didn’t fit properly. 

‹What are we going to do?› Eva asked.

“We are going to make him tell us.”

Visser Two sneered.  “Do you worst.”

I smiled, but it was not an honest one.  “I prefer to do my best.  Demorph and help me.”

Eva did so, slowly, and the Controller’s eyes widened when he recognized who she had been.  We each pulled him up – there was no way he could have stood on his own – and went into the narrow corridor.

“Where are we going?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.  Failure is not an option.”

 ****

The infirmary.  A ship’s own personal torture chamber.

This time, literally.

It was empty.  The medics had evacuated with the order. We had gotten a few stares – me without shoes, Eva without a uniform, a half-dressed Visser Two bleeding, saying we were spies kidnapping him – but declared this was a medical emergency.  This was an Admiral, after all, in pain and insensible.  By the time we entered, the Yeerk was quiet, the blood loss getting to him.  He was pleased, would rather die. 

I locked the medical doors while Eva strapped him to a table. 

“Going to torture me, Andalite?” he slurred.  “I’ll never break.  And you have no time.”

“That is what they all say.” 

Over the slight hint of skunk that lingered on our persons, there was the smell of antiseptic and alcohol.  I dug through the drawers and withdrew a syringe before I look at the locked cabinets, over the human names of chemicals.  Chemistry wasn’t my strong suit, nor medicine.  I knew basic biology and how to do the simple health cares one learns just by living, but some things do slip into one’s mind.  There, that vial.  I broke the cabinet’s glass with a paperweight and took it out, rereading it.  Yes, this was it, this yellow powder.  Sodium pentothal.  Truth serum.

Except of course it really wasn’t.  All it did was cause anesthesia and lower inhibition, like when a human imbibes large amounts of alcohol.  A being wasn’t forced to tell the truth, it just make them more likely to.  I got a vial of of sterile water and drew up the amount of air the instructions told me I required before taking the volume of water.  Injected the water into the sodium pentothal vial, withdrew the extra air, and gently shook the vial until it was mixed.  With another syringe,  I drew up three milliliters and tapped the plastic, removing the air bubbles, before going back to the bound Visser.  He was eyeing it with a fascinated fear, and Eva watched me with a close-off expression.  Part of me wondered what she thought.

“The high and mighty Andalites condone torture.  Despite all your fancy words, you are no better than us.”  He winced when I injected the liquid into his arm.  The pain relief was almost instantaneous, and he smiled.  “I’ll tell you nothing.”  He laughed again.

“ _You_ don’t have to.”  I looked at him as I set the needle aside. 

Sodium pentothal works fast.  One could be under in less than a minute, at the right dose.  Horror crossed his face even as the true goal of my actions took effect.  The face twitched and grimaced.

“It’s attacking the Yeerk,” Eva breathed, awed.  “It’s killing it.”

“No.”  At least I did not think so.  It had not been by goal.  I knew of no way to kill a Yeerk while leaving its host still alive, and I doubted this way would accomplish it.  “Human barbiturates can cross the blood-brain barrier rapidly, where the Yeerk makes its connections and absorbs the same materials its host does.  It is putting it under, like the host, but stronger. Being smaller, the dose hits it harder.  Can you speak?” I asked, looking over the host.

There was slurring, drool, drooping eyes. Panic and hope.  “Yeeeeeeeeersssss.”

“Tell us what is going on.”

“Fweee.”

“Not yet.  Tell us what he’s planning.”

“They errr a war!  The—” He twitched, subdued because the muscle relaxation, and Yeerk words spewed out.

“What are they doing?” I repeated, eyeing the vial.  Should I give him more?  Was it too much already?  I had guessed a dose, having no understanding in human pharmaceuticals, but I knew that the drug could cause him to die if I gave too much, to possibly stop breathing.  No, no more, the risk was too great.  I needed the host alive.  “Fight him and tell me!”

“Sub!  F-fring … on! Ch-ch-China, nuclear!  H-h-h-help meeeeeee, plee.”

Eva gasped.  “They’re going to make a war between us and China.  Dios, it’ll …”

“It’ll distract humans and make them easier to take.”

“Where’s the sub?  Where is it?” she demanded, and the host rolled his head at her.

The human was crying, trying to work his thick and tired tongue into words.  “We will do our best to save you,” I whispered.  Apparently, I was collecting Vissers like some people collected marbles.  “But you _must_ tell us.”

It was a struggle between the drug and the blood loss, but the words were forced out, and the channel they would hear us on.  Eva nodded in approval, a vicious grin on her face.  “We got them.”

“Not yet.” I stripped him of the pants and demorphed before acquiring the host.  ‹Now we stop it from happening.›

 _BOOM_!

Ill-prepared, the explosion threw us to the floor.  Both Eva and I shared the same thought when our gazes met under the operation table. Were we already too late?  “¡ _Moverte_ , you stupid Andalite!  I’ll bandage and watch him.”  Standing, she got the wrappings and set a hand on his shoulder, the amount of comfort visible underscoring her true feelings, her own memories.  Perhaps now she remembered that the Controllers she had so brutually attacked had been like her. 

For once, I obeyed her, dressing and grabbing a lab coat before rushing to the CIC, hoping the Yeerks wouldn’t think to wonder why their Visser Two wasn’t bleeding anymore.  

With my last look at the pale human, almost unconscious, I did not expect a miracle there.

 ****

It was nice to be back on dry land again.   Andalites don’t have much use for sea legs.  True, there are some sailors on my world, but to be stuck on a small area where you were free to move surrounded by endless area of where you weren’t, it was no wonder so few went into the profession.

The Visser’s host died, and with him Visser Two.  I could not even bring the pity for the host, because of my experience on the battlefield.  Death was better than the existence that would have awaited him.  Or maybe that was my Andalite sensibilities speaking.

The situation had not cleared up without troubles.  My appearance as the Visser had been a surprise, and I had a few minutes of good behavior from the Controllers.  But then I said something wrong or maybe they noticed I was wrong, and before I was even aware of what was going on, someone shot me in the shoulder. 

Not fun.  Take my advice, avoid getting shot in the shoulder.  Actually, just avoid getting shot. 

A saving grace had been that the entire COC was not filled with Controllers, and seeing their Admiral get shot tended to make loyal sailors defend me.  The bedlam that resulted allowed me to get behind some cover, gritting my teeth against the pain and trying to stem the blood loss. 

In the madness, it was not possible for me to demorph and morph to a safer form, because I was certain that friend and foe would shoot at an Andalite with extreme prejudice.  I pressed myself against the large consoles, waiting for an opening, but it didn’t come.  The battle, if it could be called that in this little room, was wearing down, but not enough.  A Controller had found me and barrel of a gun was at my head.

“I’ll kill you, you Andalite scum,” he gloated. 

I kicked my legs out, hoping for a trip like in a movie, but it was more of a stagger, and it made the Controller laugh mockingly.  He was savoring the moment, I knew, but I didn’t plan to die like a trapped child.  We were too close together for me to effectively dodge aside, and a frontal attack would only guarantee my death, but at least I would die fighting.

Before I could make my spring, before the inevitable click, though, my savior came from an unexpected source, for a soldier of the ship literally attacked – slide-lined like a player in the human game – the Controller, sending both of them to the floor.  The young human was stronger than the Controller and he quickly took care of the other.

“You all right, Admiral?” he asked, the stripes of a Lieutenant Junior Grade and a nametag I couldn’t read.  He had his share of wounds, the uniform marked with blood and tears.

It was a moment before I could speak.  “Yes, I’m fine.  Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Looking around, I was … _surprised_ to see that perhaps the _humans_ , the free ones, had actually _overcome_ the Controllers.  But, then again, the humans outnumbered the Controllers, and these were humans trained to be warriors.

I was amused, though, that despite my alleged rank, they were not looking to me for any leadership.  Conversation was flying all around me.

“ – to the brig –”

“ – damage to the lower decks –”

“—did we get the source of the ship-wide –”

“—got to get boats in the water for –”

“—reports of _dolphins_ and a _whale_ are –”

“—medical personnel to –”

“Admiral, Sir, if you could just sit down, we’ll take care of your shoulder, sir,” a human said, trying to guide me away, and then I realized the truth.  They thought me in shock, as if I was upper-level officer who had never shed his blood or ever faced death!  I laughed, which probably did little to calm their fears.

I got my sense and straightened, attempting to ignore the pain from my wound, for I still had to stop the next phase in the Yeerk plan.  The humans were trying to get things back under control, and I tried to regain some semblance of command.  I still had to make a submarine full of Taxxons go away.

… Part of me will admit it, I could feel the pity for the hapless creatures forced onto the submarine, being ordered to their deaths.  But I felt more pity for those that would die if they didn’t.

Ironically, I had ended up back in the hospital area, and I wasn’t alone.  The shock wave from the torpedo had injured several of the human warriors, those in the water and those on the ship.  Those in the water fared worse, I believe, because the shock wave overturned some of their boats and made its own not pleasant injuries.  However, I thanked the bedlam, because noticing _two_ Admirals would haven’t helped anyone, and Eva, pretending to be medical personnel, help me escape to a back room.

“Where are the others?”

“Out in the water, I think, playing hero,” she said, eyeing my injury.  “I haven’t seen anyone else since we had to split up.”

Demorphing, I suggested we go to the deck.  Someone would be bound to see us, someone had to be a seagull or similar if only to tell the others where assistance was needed, and then we would make for home.  Our work was done.

Eva had pointed out she didn’t have an aquatic form.  “And we are hundreds of miles out in sea, you stupid Andalite.  It’ll take us _days_.  Do you want us to die?”

My remarkable restraint should award me a medal, in my opinion. 

Considering the damage to the ship, I then decided they would probably have to bring another ship to aid her, and we would take _that_ ship home.  And if we ended up on the _wrong_ side of the ocean, glaring at her meaningfully lest she interrupt, there were these human inventions called airplanes that could fix that in a few short hours.   There were already Chee able to cover for the children, should the need arise.

In my opinion, Eva does not deserve a medal for remarkable constraint.

It only took little less than twenty-four hours, but we were eventually home, Earth’s safety once again momentarily preserved.  I went on a long run, enjoying the feel of _land_ under my hooves.  How could any being on the parts of the world that were water was beyond me.  If a being had legs made for running, evolution demanded they live on land.  Common sense.

Though part of me wished circumstances weren’t so cruel as to demand I reside in the Valley.

Living in the Valley, I was aware – not that I was ever _not_ aware – of Toby Hamee’s activities to gain freedom for her people.  Perhaps I should have offered my own services, but, on the other hand, Toby Hamee had never asked for them.  Knowing of her dislike in relying on my help, or perhaps an Andalite’s, I did not take it personally.  Secretly, I was glad she did not ask.  It allowed me a time to not fight.

But with my new living location, it made it so I was exceedingly aware when things did not go as planned.

‹What?!› I demanded.  I hoped I had misheard, but I was not so stupid.  Mostly the demand escaped because I didn’t know how else to respond to it.

Toby Hamee did not flinch.  “Vasa Petak was captured.”

I wanted to swear, to scream at her for her irresponsibility, to berate her for her incompetence, but that would have accomplished nothing.  It wouldn’t have even made me feel better, and it might have made Toby Hamee feel worse.

“We could save him, couldn’t we?” Matilda asked hopefully.

“It would be too late.  By now he is already a Controller,” Toby Hamee said, sorrow evident.

“Then they’ll know!  About the Valley, about us.  The kids!”

‹What the Yeerks will know is that human children come here.  They will not know their identities,› I said, keeping my tone level.  We were safe that way.  ‹But they will know they can morph.›

“Visser One will attack here.  This colony is one of his biggest embarrassments,” Eva said.  “He’ll bring more warriors than he’ll need and wipe it out.  Win or lose, we’ll have to leave.”

“And go where?” Matilda asked, not to argue, but to ask.

I looked around the Valley, a place I had once believed the Ellimist was responsible for.  Perhaps he was.  But it was too much to hope – or to waste time hoping – that he made a way for this location to be useful in a battle.  ‹There are always other places to hide.›

“Not the Chee,” she said, almost a whine.

Peter was looking lost and confused.  “The Chee?”

‹The Chee could not house the Hork-Bajir, nor would I ask them or expect them to,› I said evenly.  ‹But, as Eva said, we should leave.›

“No,” Toby Hamee said quietly.  “The forest limits the effectiveness of the Bug fighters, and the valley is narrow, things to our advantage.”

My stalks rose.  Surely she was not suggesting we fight for the Valley. ‹Even so, our chances will not improve.  Our forces are small.  You have only about sixty warriors.  It is safer to flee.›

“Typical Andalite answer for everything,” Eva sneered.  Not the kind of approval I was looking for.

“This valley is our home.  We will not give it up without a fight,” Toby Hamee said after looking down for a long moment.

I closed my main eyes in defeat.  A human might think I gave up too easily, but what was I to do?   Tell the other Hork-Bajir to flee?  They would not listen to me (nor should they, necessarily).  Toby Hamee was their leader, and they would follow her, whatever the consequences.

“You’re _kidding_?!” Marco demanded.  “You’re going to get slaughtered!  Mom, Dad, are you listening to this?”

His parents didn’t respond, and I cut him off.  ‹Marco, that is enough.›

“Elfangor!”

‹Marco!› I repeated, sharper.  ‹Do not over-step your place.›

“My place?” he echoed, eyes narrowed and upset.  I noticed his mother also did not like my choice of words.  “My place!  And what is my place!”

‹You do not lead the Hork-Bajir.  You give your opinion, but that is it.›  I looked at Toby Hamee.  ‹You will lose many of your people.›

“We will be either free or dead.”

‹Or most likely both,›  I said without much rancor, and then sighed.  ‹I will assist you, if you wish.  But I will not force my warriors to follow my example.›

“I understand,” Toby Hamee nodded.  “Thank you.”

“I’m in,” Matilda said.  “Have to pay my rent somehow.”

“Me too.  Anything to destroy Visser One,” Eva echoed.

Marco looked at them, and then at his dad.  I knew he would join, because he would want to protect his mother.  But I was surprised when Peter followed the females’ example.  “I don’t know what I can do, but I’d like to help.”

For a second, Eva blinked in surprise, but then gave him a brief, blinding smile.

“I can’t wait until you tell the rest of the guys,” Marco said, shaking his head.

‹You should contact them now,› I said, keeping my smile small.  ‹Time is of the essence.  Perhaps you may ask Erek if the Chee could cover for the others, if they desire to help.›

“They’re going to.  Because we’re all idiot teenagers with a death wish.”

‹And here I thought you were _arisths_ , Animorph.›

Marco grinned his macabre grin.  “Same thing.”

 ****

“The ants are marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah.  The ants are marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah.  Dah-da-da-da-dah, dah-da-da-da-dah, da da da da da daa.  The ants go marching, dah-da-da-da-da-dah,” Matilda hummed, as she had been for some time with only minute changes in the lyrics.

I finally just asked, ‹You don’t actually know the words to that song, do you?›

She smiled and didn’t look up from piling the sticks finished being made into spears.  “Those are the words.”

‹However simple humans are, that cannot be the song’s entirety.  You’ve just been making annoying filler sounds.›

She didn’t deny it.  Instead, leaning back, she looked up at me and brushed her hands.  “How’s everything looking?”

‹Dismal.›  I shuddered.  ‹This will be a slaughter.›

“The Yeerks won’t know what hit them.”

I was not lightened by her forced optimism.  ‹This won’t be sufficient.  And even if it was, the numbers are not high enough.  If we survive the initial attack, it will not be for long.  In the end, the Yeerks could essentially starve us out, if they just don’t blow the Valley away from orbit.›

“You think they’re making a mistake.”

‹Tactically, yes.  Emotionally, perhaps not.  If they win, a big if, this will give them a morale boost to them and the Hork-Bajir still held captive by the Yeerks.  But at a great risk.  The casualty cost could be too much.›

She nodded her head, perhaps for no reason or maybe she agreed with me.  “If there anything else we could do to even the odds?”

‹If you think of _anything_ , tell me.›

“I can’t do your job for you, Elfangor.  Though I am impressed you have learned how to ask for help.”

Ah, the refreshing sting of human mockery.  Where would my self-esteem be without it?  ‹We are at a tactical disadvantage.  It will take a miracle for us to win.›

“So I guess we pray for one.”

Prayer rarely helped, I had learned, but I would not say it aloud.  And if it did, we could not afford to turn away even the smallest bit of assistance.  Not in this line of work, not in these situations.

“Where will we go, after all of this?” she asked.  “I know we can’t stay here, even when we win.”

‹If we win,› I said with a crooked smile, hating myself for the correction.  She hit me hard in the arm.  ‹OW!›

“Don’t be an ass.”

Rubbing my arm and trying not to show how much it really _hurt_ – did she know exactly where the nerve cluster was?!  After all, I was a decorated Prince.  I would probably lose was little respect I had remaining if I showed how much that really, really _hurt_.  ‹There are other places to go.  They may be as … perfect as this Valley, but they will suffice.›

“Yes, but where?  And stop being a baby, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

I almost said that she had, but I got my sense and retained my dignity.  ‹There is a valley that may do, I’ve seen it when we flew over.  It is closer to human civilizations, which the Hork-Bajir might struggle with, but it is not too close.  It is smaller than this valley as well, and the river is narrower, but at least there is a water source.  I would not trust a Hork-Bajir to dig a well.›

“Elfangor!” Matilda scolded.

‹I did not mean it negatively,› I protested, even if I may have.  ‹Do not hit the commanding Prince!› I added when her fist rose.

“You are a big baby ass,” she said, hitting me again. 

Glaring at her and rubbing my arm, I said, ‹You are lucky you are not on a ship.  You would be doing plasma duty so fast with your disrespect.›

Her eyes rolled.  “Oh, that would be totally out of my experience, cleaning up after Andalites.  Could I even learn how to do it?”

‹You’re mocking me, aren’t you?›

“ _No_.  I would _never_ do that to the _Commanding Prince_.”

Despite my better judgment and experience, I smiled.  ‹And for lying to a commanding Prince, you would have be demoted to ship facilities cleaner.›

She tapped her chin.  “Hmm?  And do I have experience cleaning bathrooms, too?”  After pretending to think for a moment, Matilda shook her head and gave a quiet laugh.  “It’s nice to see everyone pulling together for this.  Eva bossing the Hork-Bajir around, Peter helping the younger ones.  And the kids doing everything they can.  Ax keeping look-out.  And you … well, you’re basically being useless.  Commanding Princes always are, I suppose.”

The odd thing was, her statement might not have been entirely false.  But I wouldn’t admit that.  ‹I noticed there is a camp of humans near.  Would it be terrible if I make the children be wolves and chase them away?  Otherwise the Yeerks will kill them.›

Matilda shrugged.  “If you think making it so the park officials have to come in and exterminate innocent wolves because of us is okay, I guess that’s all right.”

‹Do not try to play upon my sympathies.›

“You have those?  And aren’t you supposed to be figuring out how we’re going to win?”

I rolled my stalks.  ‹Humans.›

“Andalites.”

We might had resorted to other childish habits if I had not noticed the silhouettes of the birds in the air, and then acted like I didn’t even know my own name.  ‹Elfangor!  Elfangor!›

‹Jake.›

‹I saw – we could flood them out!  With the beavers!›

Matilda and I shared a look.  ‹Pardon?›

And Jake told me about the family of beavers only a mile up river.  A cynical part of me later on would wonder if the Ellimist _had_ planned for their need and arranged it to be so.

 ****

I let Aximili take responsibility for the dam.  After all, one of his specialties as an _aristh_ was fluid mechanics, so he might as well put his study to good use.  My areas of study had been broader – how did the human saying go?  Jack of all trades, master of none? – but I had taken more lessons focused in ship repair, history, and a mediocre tactical analysis. (In all honesty, my performance in tactical analysis had not allowed me to expand my studies into other more advanced fields.  I hadn’t _fail_ , mind, but the professors never liked my analysis.  Differences of opinion, understand.)  Sometimes I wished I had taken more astronomical or atmospheric studies, something that would have been lighter.  Being a serious student had not been very fun, looking back on it.

Part of me had no desire to assist in the plan.  Perhaps I was being too sensitive, but to chew down trees … it did not rest well on my hooves.  True, Earth trees had never given any sign of intelligence, not like Andalite trees, but that was hardly _proof_.  Perhaps they were shy trees or very rude or did not know how to communicate with other species.  Maybe they were even too young to speak.  After all, humans did not learn to speak until they were almost a year, and it took Andalite children almost the same to communicate properly.  Trees could live hundreds or thousands of years; it was not fair to expect them to be able to communicate relatively soon in their development.

Sometimes, I wondered if I could morph a tree.  They were living.  Where did the line cross between animal and plant?  Would I realize myself, remember my two-hour limit?  Could I even comprehend the risk in time?  After all, how did a tree feel time?  Would I regain myself from the tree’s consciousness in time? 

Though, provided I wouldn’t get chopped or chewed down, perhaps being a tree- _nothlit_ would not be so terrible.  Perhaps.

Leaving the children to take care of the dam, I spoke with Toby Hamee about the plan. She was understandably annoyed at my taking the initiative without her input, and I apologized, because I _should_ have at least asked her opinion.  However, both of us realized that we could not afford to bicker needlessly, especially not about an idea that might give us a needed edge. 

“How soon will it be completed?” Toby Hamee asked.

‹If the children and Aximili do not slack, and they shall not, it will before the Yeerks attack.›  With so many beavers and an Andalite architect leading them, it was almost a given.  And Aximili – with forgiveness – could take his tail to a tree just as well. 

Toby Hamee nodded with approval, her eyes roaming over her people.  “We do not swim well, but we will reach for the trees and hook on.”

I did not worry about the humans or what they would do.  They would be fine, all of them competent.  ‹We will not be able to release the water until most of the Yeerk troops are in the Valley,› I said, distantly, as my eyes followed her gaze as well.  It meant we would have causalities before we could react.

“I understand.”

‹I know.›  I closed my main eyes.  ‹There may be an initial retreat, from the surprise of your campaign.  Do not let your people relax.  I have seen too many … it is a quick change,› I said after I faltered.  ‹The Yeerks will strike back with their weapons firing, just outside your weapons’ range.  Hork-Bajir remaining in trees must get down.  They will be of no use there, not after the surprise attack, and will be picked off.  The pits will last maybe three lines of Taxxons, too stupid to stop and unable to jump over the trap in any case.  Start the retreat then.  That’s when the water should be sent, when the pits are filled and there are more of the enemy in the valley.›

“Yes, I agreed.”  She must have realized what had to be done, even without the experience.  “We will win, Prince Elfangor.”

‹We must win.›

She nodded, and then she cocked her head.  Her eyes were closed and it seemed like she was listening to something.  Perhaps she heard her people, or maybe she was making her own conclusions.  As a Seer, perhaps she was thinking of something I wouldn’t have.  But then she smiled.  “We are to have help, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Are we?›

She looked at me, eyes bright.  “The trees are whispering, Prince Elfangor.  There are humans who are going to join our fight.”

My stalks rose.  ‹Humans?  Where – the _campers!_ ›  I was going to _kill_ of one those children!  And then I comprehended the rest of her statement.  ‹And the trees told you this?›

Toby Hamee grinned her Hork-Bajir grin.  “Trees speak, Prince Elfangor.  Hork-Bajir listen.”

Part of me felt the worst sort of rejections.  ‹Yes, trees speak.  I had just wished …›  I looked away and forced a smile, weak as it may have been.  ‹Earth trees, I fear, do not like Andalites.  It makes a quiet forest.›

Perhaps she might have understood what I was saying, and maybe she was being kind when she suggested we meet our new allies.  “We should make an impression for the campers, I think.  Humans like that, don’t they?”

‹Humans like whatever is either foolish or stupid or both, I believe.  But it will be amusing to see their faces, once I kill whichever one of children took their own initiative.›

Toby Hamee smiled at me with her own amusement, and she gathered some of her Hork-Bajir to show a proper welcoming.  Humans like things like that, I suppose almost expect it.  I kept to the side.  After all, this was neither my welcoming nor my home.  If Toby Hamee was willing to accept them as guests, it was her issuance that mattered. 

It was not too long before the campers arrived, the terrified awe upon seeing Toby Hamee make her welcome.  But upon seeing whom was to blame for this, my tail snapped and eyes narrowed.

‹You give the children bad role-modeling!› I scolded sharply to Matilda, who smirked with her arms crossed over her chest.  I did not fail to notice several of the humans step back from us, some marveling at Andalite speech methods.  Telepathy, I heard someone whisper.

“You asked me for an idea how to help, Elfangor, didn’t you?”

There were some arguments that I could not win, at least not if I played by the rules.  ‹Then these are your responsibility.›

She smiled.  “Guys, this is Prince Elfangor.  Go on, say hi, he’s really nice.”

I was not!  I was mean and short-tempered – and I swear by my tail, my stalks rose so high I almost lost them when one of them dared to tell me to live long and prosper.  ‹I am _not_ a Vulcan!›  Perhaps my knowledge of Earth entertainment culture shocked them even more than my form, but I didn’t notice, annoyed.  ‹What is it with humans thinking Star Trek is _real_?› I demanded rhetorically.  Even Loren had referenced that infernal show when we first met.

“Elfangor, be nice,” Matilda scolded. 

‹Do they know what they are getting into?› I asked instead.

She shifted.  “I did tell them.”

“And we are happy to help,” an older human male said.

‹Very well.  Then let me reiterate what she had told you – this is a _war_.  This is not television.  There are no POWs or stunning or anything nice like that.  You _will_ be shot at.  You _may die_.  For _real_.›  Ah, that was better.  Fear and the reality sinking in, the desire to back out.

“Elfangor,” she sighed, face covered by her hand.

‹What?›

“Just say hi, okay.”

‹Why?›

“Because I said so and you’re embarrassing me.”

I waved my tail dismissively.  ‹I’ve embarrassed you far worse than this.›  At her glare, I relented and bowed in the proper respectful manner.  ‹Welcome and thank you for your presence and assistance in the dire times.  War-Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, at your service.  May the suns continue to shine on us after our battle and may we dine together on the grass with honor.›  I was only the tiniest bit sarcastic, and only Matilda noticed.  The other humans were too marveled at my words and manner.  Perhaps it matched their idea on how an alien should act.

Some humans responded in their words, someone in a language another called Klingon.  Again, the humans confused Andalites with television species.  I was sure Andalites had nothing in common with Klingons.  After all, Andalites are at least _real_.

‹Eva and Peter will have use for the additional assistance,› I said to Matilda.  ‹They may take their belongings to the caves.›

“Right.  And you’re going to go back to being useless, aren’t you?”

‹Must you damage my standing with these new humans?› I asked privately, peevish.

“Yes.”  She clapped her hands.  “All right, let’s get going.  Just remember, guys, the Hork-Bajir are all bark and no bite, and Andalites are all swipe and gripe.”

I swung my tail at her, stopping it near her face, to the gasps of the humans.  ‹No. We are slice and dice.›

“See.  Swipe.  And gripe.”  She tried to push my tail away, but it didn’t even move. 

‹And I have found humans are no sense and all sensibility.›

“You are such an ass, Jane Austen,” she said, ducking down and under my tail.  “All proud and prejudice.”

I set my tail back and shook my head, smiling.  ‹Separate them to their best abilities in aid.  Our time is running short.  We might be needed at the dam soon,› I said, turning away.

“Right, Sir.”

Sighing at such disrespect, I trotted to the Hork-Bajir making the pits.  At least my poor talents at making an awning would be of use here.  I kept an eye on the new humans, who mingled and tried to help in their awe and mounting terror.

I wondered how many would be dead in twenty-four hours.

 ****

Sometimes, I did not like my experience, because all it did was make me correct in my estimates of a death toll.  There was death around us, from both sides.  We lost five of the human campers, and twenty-three Hork-Bajir colonists.  I myself had been burned severely, a purposeful target for Visser One, forced to morph if I wanted to get away.

But … perhaps we had won.   Perhaps.  Was the human term a Pyrrhic victory?  Yes, I think it was, and maybe in this circumstance it was the right description.

Toby Hamee was speaking with her people, preparing them for the move.  Eva, Peter, and Matilda had organized most of the humans and uninjured Hork-Bajir into crude medics.  The children, save Marco and Tobias, would soon for their homes.  Tobias would leave later, as his uncle would not notice his absence as soon as the parents of the others.  Aximili was gathering our own belongings.

There had been a minor upset when I scolded several being, human and Hork-Bajir, for crushing the escaping Yeerks with their feet.  Disgusted at the actions – it was one to kill in battle, another to kill those who have already lost – I tossed them a water cooler and told them to gather the parasites.

“And what are you going to do with them?” Eva demanded.  “They’re going to die.  You’d rather them suffer starvation, Andalite?”

I doubted her actions could have been explained in such an altruistic light.  ‹They will not starve.›

“What are you going to do with them?” Cassie asked, holding the cooler.  She had willingly gathered our prisoners and now held the container protectively.

‹I will speak with the Chee.  If they are angered, I will take the responsibility.›  While they might have been put out, I did not think they would be too upset.   And if they were, I could perhaps ask them to put together a small Kandrona generator I would design and place the Yeerks somewhere they would be out of the way.  While Gafinilan might not like it, his home, or at least his hidden basement, could be used as a secure location.  In any case, he was not using it and would not know about it anyway.

Cassie approved of my plan and promised to call Erek for me.  At least that was one responsibility off my tail.

Now what?  Should the human campers be allowed to leave?  Had they seen too much?  Could be even be allowed to leave?  Would they leave?

Would they also require the Gift?

These thoughts ran in my head while I helped Aximili pack what we needed for our first trip to our new home.  Toby Hamee trusted my initial assessment of the place, though she reserved the right to relocate her people.  At the moment, we both knew the point was to get everyone _out_ of the Valley before Visser One made his retaliation.

‹We will take the first group to the location now,› I said quietly, once she had finished speaking with a wounded warrior.  We would lead seven less-wounded adults, who would take three of the medium-wounded.  There would be many trips.

She nodded.  “We will follow with the elders and children, while the new home is settled.”  Her eyes looked at me, eyes bright with pain or pride or both.  “We won, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Yes, you did,› I said, even if I didn’t believe it.  ‹And someday, you will return.  Bring the severely injured soon, as well, even if we are not ready.›

“Yes.”  It was better to move them sooner than later, even at the risk of their health, for if the Yeerks attacked sooner than later, the Hork-Bajirs’ health wouldn’t be much of an issue.

I suppose it was lucky Andalites could act similarily to horses, for it allowed my brother and I to carry our necessary supplies without the need for numerous trips.  For instance, we carried the transponder with us and listened to intently for any sign in the renewal of the attack.

It took us a few hours to get to the new Hork-Bajir valley, and I left Aximili to assist the Hork-Bajir in setting up while I flew back.  Flying, I saw the next group, the one of children and elders carrying the few wounded they could manage.  Briefly I spoke to them, told them they were on the right path.  I asked if they required my assistance, but an older Hork-Bajir – Bana Chalta, I believe was her name – said she could follow the scents.  Trusting her judgment, I left them.

The third group was preparing to leave as I arrived, and I saw humans were to be part of this caravan.  I landed and demorphed, ignoring the surprise, and went to Eva and Matilda.  ‹How is everything?›

Eva, her face marked with some various blood types and clothes in no better condition, moved her pack.  “We lost two more Hork-Bajir,” she said, tone businesslike.

“The others are almost ready to be moved safely,” Matilda added.  “A few healthy Hork-Bajir might have to come back, we’re not sure yet.”

‹And the humans?› I asked, nodding to the campers milling around, close enough to try to eavesdrop, but not near enough to actually hear anything.

“They’re staying with us,” Eva said.  “Even if they wanted to, we can’t let them go, and you know it.  They’ll be spilling their guts on their webpages and dorms and friends even though we told them not to, and the Yeerks will find out.  And they all know the truth about Jake, Rachel, Cassie, and Tobias.  The Yeerks find out their names and their ages, it won’t take long for them to be infested.”

Part of me was relieved Eva was making this decision.  Even if it was the right thing to do, I did not think that if I – an Andalite – ordered it done, the campers would have been willing to listen or believe.  No species liked to be ordered about by another. 

Eva continued with a half-shrug, “And half of them don’t want to anyway.  What they want is to get their families.”

‹No,› I said before I thought about the request.  ‹It is too risky.›

She nodded with understanding while Matilda frowned, but she made no verbal protest.  “I told them that.  Anyone in their families who didn’t come could be a Controller.  No way we can deal with it, not now, anyway.”  She gave me a lop-sided smile.  “Now I know how you feel, dealing with people who are green.”

‹The children are not green.  They have not been for some time.  So you are taking them under your wing, as it were?  Did I not say they were _your_ responsibility?› I asked of Matilda.

“Eva’s better at it.”

“Only because I’ll actually slap them.”

‹You didn’t!›

Eva didn’t look repentant.  “They were being irresponsible and hysterical.  We didn’t have time for it.”

Considering I was known for batting _arisths_ alongside the head, perhaps I should not have been so disapproving, but for some reason I always thought humans shouldn’t to be treated like such.  ‹Do not make it too much of a habit.›

“I won’t have to, I’m sure.  My yelling should be enough now.”

Ah, yelling I could approve of.  ‹You had best be leaving.  The Hork-Bajir should be able to follow the scent.›

“That won’t bite us in the butt, will it?” Matilda asked.

“Visser One is too pissed to think right, now.  He’ll blast us from orbit, not send tracker Taxxons after us,” Eva said, a touch of disgust in her voice.

‹And it will rain soon.  The scent will be washed away, overcome.›  I stepped away, to find Toby Hamee.  ‹I will see you soon.›

“Right.”

“Bye!”

It was easy to find Toby Hamee, tending to her people.  ‹Everything is being set up,› I reported.  ‹The second group is perhaps an hour away, and the third has just departed.›

“That is good.”  She was tired.  “These four must leave next.”

‹Understood.  Will someone have to return to help us?›

“No, I do not believe so.  Marco and Tobias will morph to a Hork-Bajir, if we need.”

I nodded and looked around.  It was eerily, seeing this valley of death.  There were few quick half-hearted burials, but bodies were still around.  Insects were already filling the air.  But still there was hope and, in the distance, Marco was making a Hork-Bajir laugh, perhaps unintentionally given the difference between human and Hork-Bajir humor. 

‹I hope ….›  I trailed off, uncertain of what I wanted to say, and Toby Hamee looked up at me.

“Yes, Prince Elfangor?”

Shaking my stalks, I sighed.  ‹I do not know what I hope for, but I hope.›  Perhaps I hoped for too many things that nothing was coherent in my mind or maybe it was just my natural Andalite optimism.

Toby Hamee nodded.  “As do I.  But I know what I hope for.  Many things.”

‹And which is better, I wonder – the blind hope or the hope with goals?›

Perhaps she realized my question was rhetorical, or perhaps Toby Hamee, even as a Seer, did not know the answer.

 ****


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least one Andalite learned to share his toys.

The new valley met with few complaints, and none of those complaints made it necessary to move immediately.  It was not to say we wouldn’t relocated, but one must realize the difficulty in moving an entire clan of Hork-Bajir, many who were wounded.  Add to them, a small group of humans who were lost in all sense but the word.  It was not an enterprise a leader wanted to do more often than needed.

I will admit, though, the new valley made me desirous of following Aximili’s example and having my make-shift scoop somewhere _not there_.  The old valley had had space.  There was the Hork-Bajir side, which was the majority, understandably, and then there was guest side, and in between there had been a sort of buffer region.  It was not the case here.  There were no sides and definitely no buffering, at least not until the Hork-Bajir spent a few more weeks cultivating the trees and land and the cabins were made.  Until then, while the individual species clumped together in sections, everyone was always looking into the neighbor’s window, to borrow a human expression.

It made tempers short, even tempers that shouldn’t be allowed to become so.  It was bad enough I had the Hork-Bajir young fiddling in my belongings, but when I caught some of the human campers doing the same, well … I probably severely hampered any sort of budding Andalite-Human relationships.  And I made three of humans cry, not all of them necessarily female.

There was no apology given by either side, despite some scolding glares from certain persons, but as I made a concerted effort to patiently answer annoying questions (and barely mock), reparations were slowly being made.

Eventually, everyone settled into a pattern.  We even managed to get extra supplies.  I wasn’t quite sure if Erek delivered the food because one of the children said something or he was rewarding me for not killing helpless Yeerks, but it didn’t seem very important to learn which was the case.  After enquiring about the difficulties the Chee had faced with my unsanctioned action – and the subtle hint from Erek that, while they would _of course_ continue to approve of such actions, there were several Chee who believed they were becoming too involved in this War – I would have let the subject drop.   However Erek had other ideas, for he erected a privacy barrier.

“I wish to only remind you of your promise,” he said, after I tilted my stalk at him pointedly, showing that I had noticed the change in sound and appearance.

It took me a moment to remember what he was alluding to, and then I closed my main eyes and pulled at an ear in annoyance, a bad childish habit, though it was only bad because Mother and her friends had thought it cute.  Thankfully, as an adult, it was not seen in the same light, except perhaps to Mother.  ‹It has been so long, has it?›

“Not a year, yet, but it is only a few weeks off.”  He looked at me with a closed-off expression.  “Have you changed your mind?”

I opened my main eyes and glared.  ‹I gave my word, as poor of an excuse of such a thing as it is.  I have no intention of backing out on it.›

“I did not mean to hint you would,” Erek replied.

‹It is merely poor timing.  And, I will admit, a bit of trepidation.  Giving a former Visser the Gift.›  I gave a humorless bitter laugh.  ‹I do not even know how I could defend my actions to the High Command.  At least the last Yeerk was in the Peace Movement, and it was not me who gave it.  I was too ill to even give the order.›

Erek gave a smile and the luxury of not offering advice.  “If it will ease your mind, Kaplin Nine-Three-Five does not believe you will keep your promise.”

‹I fail to see how that would improve my mind.›

“He has his few minutes of trying to determine what he would become, but mostly he seems resigned to his believed fate, perhaps even preferring death.”

‹Again, I do not see how this should improve _my_ mood.  I am quite aware of how Yeerks view me.›

The Chee shook his head at me.  “Does not realizing you are better than your enemies believe fulfill this?”

‹No.  It means I am dumber than them.  Enemies believe you will act as they would act in reversed circumstances.  I have shown mercy to one who would show me none.›

“You cannot blame him for doubting, Prince Elfangor.  He has been insolated nearly the entire time and he is not stupid enough to forget that, while you could keep your word, you fight and could die.”

‹Tell me, do many Chee become lawyers?› I asked rhetorically.  ‹Are you aware if he has chosen a form?›

Erek looked at me cautiously.  “You could speak to him.  I have brought him with.”

‹Just in case.  But you wanted to see if my word still remained true.  I am not angry,› I said, speaking before he could – if he would– apologize.  ‹I would have done the same, though I do not know if that makes me as good as a Chee, or you as bad as an Andalite.›

“Neither aspect is entirely unappealing,” Erek shrugged.   “And do not worry about safety.  He cannot access my memory nor control me.  I am merely offering him a direct form of communication.”

‹I did not think you would needlessly risk us,› I said, giving a small smile.  ‹You said his name was Kaplin Nine-Three-Five?›

“Yes.  He will be disoriented for a few seconds.”

‹I understand.›  There was no noticeable change in the being in front of me, but I had not expected one.  After waiting a few seconds, I said in a quiet and calm voice, ‹Kaplin Nine-Three-Five, this is War-Prince Elfangor.  How are you?›

Chee, as androids, did not express much emotion, but it was audibly clear the former Visser was confused.  “What?  Where … where am I?”

‹Outside.  The actual location doesn’t matter.›

“How – what is this?  How are you doing this?” he demanded.

‹The exact technology is unknown to me, but our allies offered the use to aid in this discussion.  Do you recall our pact?›

The eyes were sharp on me, even for a Chee.  “Do I recall?!  Of course I recall!  You said you were going to give me the morphing ability.  Are you backing out, Beast?”

‹No.  I merely wanted to know if you had decided on a form, so I could have time to obtain it for your use.›

“It has been a year?” he whispered.

‹I’m sure it has seen like longer,› I said with true compassion.  ‹I myself had to be reminded of the date.›

Kaplin said nothing to this, which surprised me, I’ll admit.  I was prepared for the slurs about Andalites or my character, but perhaps the Yeerk was still under some sense of shock.

I continued.  ‹It is actually almost three human weeks short of our bargain, but considering the enormity of the decision, it was brought to my attention that some forewarning would be kind to you.  And I am not immune to moving the day forward if you are amendable.›

“If I’m amendable?” he repeated, voice soft and shrill.  “If I’m amendable?!  Of course I’m daspening amendable!”

‹Then you have decided on a form?›

The Yeerk in the Chee was quiet.  “I can be anything?”

‹Anything I could bring you into contact with.  We are still on Earth, and the Yeerks are not in such control – yet – that I could not make a trip to a zoo.  There are also numerous Hork-Bajir and humans to acquire, if you desire.   If you chose human, an appropriate history will in good faith also be constructed, along with the necessary monies and paperwork. Again, I do not offer Andalites.  My warriors, while perhaps liberal, have their lines.›  And being able to give Andalite DNA was certainly past it.

‹I am not asking for a decision now.  I believe, once you determine a form, I will be made aware?›  Erek subtly nodded.

“Because of this technology?” Kaplin asked.  Apparently he had noticed the motion or he realized his thoughts were being read. 

‹Yes.  Do you have any preference at this time?›

Kaplin was quiet.  “I … I do not know.  I did not expect you … no, I don’t,” he finished quickly, in a firm voice, all previous uncertainty gone.  “And how am I supposed to have all the information on Earth animals to make a good decision?”

‹You had a human host.›

“That isn’t enough!”

Erek made an action, pointing to himself, and it took me a moment to understand.  ‹Perhaps … I believe you may ask about any creature and information will be provided to you.›  Again Erek nodded.

“Impossible!” 

I did not make a comment, instead letting the curiosity dictate his actions.

Once I deemed an appropriate time had passed, I said, ‹Again, I remind you, I will not have access to every animal on Earth.  While there are some efforts I will entertain to keep our pact, I cannot afford to be extravagant.  If you are set on one form, I will do my best, but I cannot give you my word that your choice can be honored.›

He made a sound, a grunt almost like a childish pout.  “And if I want to acquire the ability sooner, you will let me?”

‹Yes.  Again, I make no promises to give it right when you desire due to Earth’s situation, but I will not purposefully hold out on you.›

He made another sound, one of disbelief and mockery.  But it appeared he was thinking about his options.  Perhaps he was already demanding Erek give him information. 

‹If you have nothing else to say, I believe we may consider our conversation ended.›

“Yes, I suppose so.  Though this could be some elaborate Andalite trick.”

‹Or it could be elaborate Andalite honesty,› I said back, eyes narrowing.

The former Visser laughed.  “Elaborate Andalite honesty?  Perhaps more like elusive.  I was not aware it even existed.”

No, I would not lose my temper.  No, no.  ‹I await our next conversation.  Until next time, Kaplin Nine-Three-Five.› I inclined my head.

He paid me no such respect, and, impishly, I decided to add, ‹As a warning, that particular piece of technology may give you a biased report on canines.›

Erek sighed.  “Must you have said that?”  Even with the scold, he was smiling.

‹In good conscience, yes.›

“Now he will be wondering if my files are accurate.”

‹He would be suspicious in any case,› I dismissed.  ‹At least now he has something to be suspicious of, and he will be more cautious in his choice.›

“Do I hear concern in your speak, Prince Elfangor?”

‹No.›  I took a deep breath.  ‹Does he have any preferences he is currently leaning towards?›

“There are several.  Human, of course, but also a bird of some sort, or something that swims.”

I nodded.  Those would not be too difficult.  I do not know what I would have done if he wanted to be an elephant.  Humans, though they might try, did not really ignore elephants in the corner.  Or was that gorillas?  ‹Let me know when he has decided.›

“I will.”  He looked around the camp.  “The others do not know, I assume.”

‹Depending on his choice, they may not have to.›  I did not like his look.  ‹I would rather him start with a fresh slate, as it were.  If he becomes human, you cannot deny one of them will not forever spy on him.  And I will not pretend they wouldn’t attack another animal if they thought it was he.›

His disapproval was even stronger.  “You would think that of them?”

‹I must.  You may think of the best, I must think of the worst.  Hopefully, they are always somewhere in the middle.›

Erek merely gave a smile.  “If I may suggest, why do you not offer the ability to the other captive Yeerks?”

My look must have been uncomprehending.

“It cannot be much worse than giving one the ability.”

‹You cannot see how much worse it is.  For _me_.›  I shook my head bitterly.  ‹I am very slowly destroying myself and my family.  At this rate, I might as well give the Yeerks the _Escafil device_.  The High Command is going to crucify me.›

“I see.  We weren’t aware of your risk.”

Twisting my blade and sighing, I said, ‹What is life without risks?  And as the humans say, _in for a penny, in for a pound_ , though that never made any sense to me.  Shouldn’t it not start, _in for an ounce_?›

Erek laughed.  “I believe it refers to English money.  They have pennies and pounds, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Ah, now I understand.  If you dare to spend a little, you will be required spend more.›

“Something like that, I believe.”

I shook my head at the distraction.  ‹If your people do not want to be assist, I have no option in any case.›

“We are not turning them out, Prince Elfangor,” Erek reminded quickly.

‹I have no desire to seek help from those who do not wish to offer it willingly, nor do I wish to bring the Chee discontent.›

“There will always be some discontent.”

‹Perhaps.  If you Chee believe them to be safe, there is no reason to not allow them freedom.  But I do mean safe.  Do not look with your rose-colored eyes or trust in second chances.›  My gaze was sharp on him.  ‹I do not say they are evil, but every Visser was once an underling.  Do not ignore the fact that the gift can be abused, can make any Yeerk as dangerous as Visser One.  Even more dangerous, for the Yeerk could acquire the being, place them in a trance, and easily gain control.›

“We promise to be most discerning,” Erek vowed. 

‹You had best.›  There was nothing more to speak on the topic. 

“You are not doing something wrong, Prince Elfangor.”

‹I do not see you Chee offering me access to Pemalite technology,› I said, voice tight.  ‹Andalites have our laws for reasons, and I am breaking them for less pure ones.›

“We do not believe so.  You offer freedom for your Yeerk prisoners; you allow the humans to save their world.  What can be nobler?”

I laughed at the picture he painted.  ‹Noble, another word for foolish.  Prince Seerow was noble, and you are aware of what happened there.›

“He did not make a mistake.”

‹Perhaps not.›  Once bitten, twice shy, I’ve heard the humans sing.  ‹Either case, make the offer.  Perhaps they will not even accept.›

“If it is a matter of trust – ”

‹Not everyone wishes to become a _nothlit_ ,› I said with an unchecked sharpness.  ‹I would not dare suggest they should feel they must leave their true forms, if they feel comfortable in them.  And I will not use the Gift to do forced genocide.›

Erek again smiled.  “Of course not.”  The world around us shifted and changed, the noises weren’t muted.  “I will be in contact with you soon, Prince Elfangor.”

‹I’ll be waiting.›

It was not long after he left that Matilda came up.  “You two spoke for a long time.”

‹If you are interested to know what we discussed, you could just ask.›

“Who said I’m interested?” she grinning, batting her eyes.

‹No one.›

For a second, she gave me a cross look, but it left just as rapidly.  “How are the Chee?”

‹Annoyed with my presumption in sending them prisoners.›

“Really?”

‹A few of them, at any rate.  There was some discussion about that.›

Matilda was concerned.  “What are we going to do?”

‹That, I believe, depends on the Yeerks.  The Chee are not going to turn them out, so do not be concerned there.›

“What do the Yeerks have to do with it?  They either swim around in a little tank or the die.  There’s not much for them to think about.”

‹Then there is nothing to worry about.›

“You’re hiding something, I can tell,” she said, eyes narrowed.  “You lie for crap.”

I almost said I was a very good liar, but then realized that wasn’t an exactly positive character trait.  ‹I do?›

She nodded, arms crossed and looking me up and down, as if I branded the truth somewhere on my person.  “So are you going to tell me?”

‹A lie?›

“No, the truth.”

‹I told you the truth.›

“Right.  Then how about the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

‹I think I will say nothing and let you go slowly insane.  Or more insane.  It would be amusement we need.  Ah!› I said, moving my blade to protect my arm. 

“OW!”

Grinning, I stated, ‹I am not sorry.› 

She nursed her hand, which was probably only very sore and not broken, and scowled.  “Ass.”

‹But now who is the baby?›

All of my eyes focused upwards, I didn’t see her kick me right in the leg.  But I felt it and she stuck her tongue out.

It was a struggle not to give into to favoring the limb.  ‹You are a very violent, immature being.›

She grinned.  “I know you are, but what am I?”

I rolled my eyes.  ‹Humans.›

“Exactly.  Now tell me what’s going on, or I’m telling Eva something’s going on.”

If there was a true threat in there, I missed it.  ‹It is between the Chee and myself.  If it requires it, I will inform you and the others, but not before then.›

Still massaging her hand, Matilda shook her head.  “Elfangor, if we’re suppose to be fighting together, you can’t keep keeping secrets from us.  It’s not right.”

‹You really mean keeping them from you,› I corrected, and then shook my head.  ‹If it will make you rest easier, Erek and I were discussing the future of the prisoners.  That’s all it was.  There are options beyond life and death.  I do not doubt a few Chee would not be against being hosts of them, nor handing them to a Yeerk Peace movement member if they are worthy.  And there are other options.›

“Oh.”

‹Yes.  Oh.  That is it.›

Her eyes were sharp on me.  “You’re still not saying something.”

‹ _Why_ are you accusing me of that?› I demanded, not a little worried that she could read me so easily.  Or perhaps she was merely guessing.

“Because you’re doing that funny eye stalk thing.”

‹I’m pretty sure the children call it a Death Glare, and I’m not doing that.  Yet.›

Matilda, wincing only a little when she crossed her arms, said, “I know what the Death Glare looks like, and what you’re doing now isn’t it.  I don’t even know what you’re doing, but it’s fishy.”

‹It’s Andalite-y, not fishy.›

“Don’t change the subject.  And you know I’ll figure it out.”

‹And would this be before or after I tell you whatever it is I am allegedly not telling you?›

“You’re doing it again.”

Huffing, I stated, ‹I am _not_.  You are fishing.  And you should ice your hand before it swells.›

“And look, avoidance.  I’m on to you, Bucko.”

‹Of course you are.›

 ****

I looked at the list Erek had given me, feeling a bit like a human parent presented with a list of demands for Christmas.  Perhaps it was not far from the truth.

‹These forms are what they desire?›

He nodded.  “Several of them were surprisingly very eager about it, once they got over their initial disbelief.”

‹And they do understand the risks?  I mean, even the ones inherent in these forms?›

Again Erek nodded, though he looked like he was trying to hide a smile from me.  “All of them recognize the risks of the forms they have chosen, of the predators and hunting.”

Part of me was impressed, in a fearful way.  ‹I had not thought so many would willingly do this.  They do not believe they must?›

“No.  I will admit, there were some who had no pressing desire to become trapped in a morph, but I think, in the end, the temptation was too great for them to turn it down.  Perhaps in another time, so many would not have agreed.”  Erek paused.  “However, there are two Yeerks all of the Chee are leery against offering the technology to.  We have kept them secluded and they know nothing past an initial offer.”

I sighed.  ‹Not everyone should receive the Gift, as demonstrated by some.›

Erek’s face was pained.  “Even Kaplin Nine-Three-Five, while he did imagine regaining his former glory, did not linger on such thoughts for long.  Nor in such a fashion.”

There was no comment to make, and I focused on the list with forced interest.  ‹I am … surprised so many wish to be human, with the circumstances on Earth.›

“Humans are the dominant creature on the planet.  Perhaps they hope they will not be taken as hosts themselves, or they do not believe there is as much danger as you believe.   For one thing, there are more humans than there are Yeerks, are there not?  Not everyone will need to become a host.”

‹For now.  But I cannot provide covers for all them.  I only have paperwork for Kaplin, and that is only because it was a spare for myself.   I can give them funds, but that is all.›

“The Chee have our connections, if need be.”

‹Thank you.›  I smiled a little at some of the forms.  ‹I do not think I would mind being a dolphin.›

“They are a close group of friends, I believe, who searched for forms that would allow them to remain together.”

‹They are lucky the Gardens has dolphins.›  All of them, at least, had been practical.  There were no animals not native to this area, and, in fact, they were all innocuous.  There were several birds, the group of dolphins, humans, and even a few dogs.  ‹Had to trick a few towards canines, didn’t you, I suppose.›

“They will be cared for by several families of our acquaintances that are looking for pets,” Erek smiled.

‹They will know you are not human,› I warned.

“And we will know they were Yeerks.  We are aware of the risks.”

‹Very well.  It will take some time for me to get these samples, aside from the canines.  A week, I believe.  And with so many desiring to be human, I should inform the humans to see if they will donate.  It would be easier than breaking into a hospital to get blood samples.  And perhaps safer.  I would not know the health conditions of the donors I was stealing from there.›

“If need be, I believe the Sharing is assisting in the annual hospital blood drive.  We could take samples.”

‹It would be helpful, in case too many humans refuse.›  I was interested in the news.  ‹Why are they taking part in the blood drive?›

Erek shrugged.  “To my knowledge, they are merely doing a charitable act.”

My face showed my skepticism at the statement.

“The Sharing does do a few activities that do not benefit the Yeerk advancement.  They have taken part in this for the past few years,” Erek reminded, smiling.  “I will inform the Yeerks of your timeframe.”

‹And we shall have to determine a safe location to do the deed,› I thought aloud.  ‹I cannot ask Toby Hamee to take such a risk in hosting this here.›  Putting off the decision for another time, I said, ‹The Yeerks haven’t given gender preferences for the human forms.  I doubt I could figure the sexes of the other animals, but considering the importance humans place on it, it should be determined.  Besides, it’ll help in getting donors.  One should have at least seven donors to make a distinct _nothlit_ form, but we can slip by with three.›  Or not, considering most of the children never managed to combine forms properly.  Well, most humans thought they had a twin somewhere in the world. 

“Getting blood samples will not be too difficult.”

‹With proper ages,› I added, the thought occurring to me.  ‹Try to get them between twenty and forty.›

Erek smiled.  “If anything, the Yeerks cannot accuse you of being negligent on looking for their best interests.”

‹They can accuse me of anything,› I laughed, though I shouldn’t have found the humor.  ‹I should speak with my own humans about this.›

“It will all go well,” Erek said.

‹For a given value of “well.”  Again, thank you for the list.›

“Our pleasure.”

I waited until Erek had left my sight before I ran, more to gather my thoughts than any other reason.  And perhaps maybe I was not looking forward to telling the humans.  I could imagine Eva’s reaction, and then there was Aximili’s.  He would know the truth in the danger I was putting myself in.  And then there would be the looks on the other humans: approval, disgust, confusion, betrayal, something else.

But it didn’t matter.  I gave my word, and I could not trespass on Chee hospitality indefinitely.  It was bad enough that they would be forced to monitor two of the prisoners.  Even if they favored nonviolence, I did not think this imprisonment path pleased them any better. 

Entering the valley over a half an hour later – and being very careful in speaking with the Hork-Bajir guards so they knew I was friend – I was a bit relieved at what I saw.  Most of the humans were working with Hork-Bajir in making crude cabins, as the tents were being deemed … impolite adjectives.  As an Andalite, I did not see the point in such a grandiose shelter, but, as I said, I was an Andalite.  Besides, it kept them busy.  Busy humans complained less. 

Or more.

I trotted to Matilda and Marco, both sitting on a log bench.  Perhaps Eva noticed my intention, because before I reached them she was part of the group, and her husband followed.

‹I require a meeting with all of the humans,› I said.

“Why?” Marco asked, almost a mock whine.  “We’ve been good.”

Eva, arms crossed over her chest, asked, “Are you planning some fight?”

‹No.  But I do require human assistance.›

“Doing what?” Matilda asked.

‹That is what the meeting is for.›

“We’re not going to like this, are we?” Marco commented, stretching his legs out.

‹You can be relieved I will ask Toby Hamee to not practice drills at that particular time.  And I will not be asking you to risk your lives.  At least, currently I have no plans to.›

“Elfangor, are you sick or something?”

“So this is for everyone?” Peter asked, a bit surprised.  He was not often in our meetings. “Everyone, everyone?”

‹Yes.  It is not mandatory, but I would like everyone present nonetheless.›

“The rest of the kids will probably come trickling in soon,” Matilda said, giving me a searching look.  “So we do it when they get here.”

“What is this about?” Eva demanded.

‹Yeerks.›

“Damn!  I was hoping for something different!”

“Marco!  Language,” his father scolded.

Marco ducked and blushed.  “It’s Elfangor’s fault!  You should hear the things _he_ says!”

I gave him a look but didn’t defend myself, since I doubted any of the adults believed him.  Eva, however, said, “I don’t think I’ve heard too many swears out of his blue head.”

“At least English ones,” Matilda added impishly.

Marco laughed.  Perhaps he remembered a few of them, even if he would not know what they meant beyond the spirit.  “Hey, he’s even worse.  He says things like, _Marco, ole chap, go distract those Controllers, you know, the with the Dracon beams_ , or, _buck up lad, we’re only facing ten-to-one odds, a jolly little skirmish._ ”

‹I have never in my life told someone to “buck up,”› I said, amused. 

“Or in the faux British accent,” Matilda added.  “Unfortunately.”

“All I’m saying is, with encouragement like that, you end up swearing.  Even Cassie.”

‹Then you must work on your timing, for we do not hear Cassie cursing.›

The boy rolled his eyes.  “Can’t you give us a little hint what this meetings going to be about?  I mean, we all assume the Yeerks will somehow be in it.  Am I going to be required to nearly get myself killed?”

‹Not required, no.›

Eva, while the exchanged had amused her, turned a disapproving glare at me.  “If we’re supposed to be working together, you shouldn’t be keeping secrets from us, Andalite.”

‹I will tell you.›

“Tell us _now_.  We’re not some fodder you can blindly lead around.  That might have worked with the kids and Loren, but not anymore, not with me.”

“Eva,” Matilda sighed, covering her eyes.

“No!  You let him walk all over you, put everyone in danger.  Face it.  Andalites aren’t the great saviors of the universe.”

‹Then who is?› I replied in a tight voice, eyes narrowed.  ‹Who will be fighting?  Humans?  The Hork-Bajir, perhaps?›

“Andalites are the reason we have this war in the first place!”

“No, Eva,” Matilda jumped in before I should shout something back.  “The Yeerks are.  They attacked first.”

“Yeah, Mom.”

Eva glared.  “They’ve got you snow-balled.  If the Andalites had never arrived, if they weren’t so condescending and arrogant –”

“Then they wouldn’t think they could fix everything, and we’d be in more trouble than we are now, so just shut up,” Matilda ordered, and I was surprised when Eva did just that, though it looked like she wanted to say more.

There was an immature part of me that wanted to say something very, very … immature, but I held the thought back.  It was more important to keep the peace than to get the last word, and it was better to avoid glares.  However, I remained glaring at the human female.  ‹The Chee do not wish to hold our Yeerk prisoners indefinitely.› 

“What?” Marco said, his head snapping up.  “There’s no way they’re going to let them die.”

‹They’re not.  But the fact is our allies have reached their comfort limits, and we need to deal with it.›

“And what do we have to do with it?” Eva demanded.  “You think we’re going to be hosts again?!”

‹No.›  My words were sharp and spitting.  ‹I was going to ask if any of you would be willing to offer your DNA.  I’ve made a pact with the Yeerks.  Any who would be willing to become a _nothlit_ , I’d give them the technology.›

“ _What?!_ ”

My ears instinctively lowered in protection.  How could human voices go so high?

“Didn’t you learn anything?  You’re going to give the technology –”

‹I gave my word.›

Eva started such a rapid-fire rant in Spanish my translator chip, unused to the language, fell behind and missed a few key words, but I caught enough.  And her son and husband recognized enough as well. 

‹ _That is enough!_ › I roared, patience spent.  Her eyes widened and perhaps unconsciously went to my tail, and more than one being in the valley took a step away, even those at a far distance.  ‹It is _my_ decision!  How dare you think you have a say in how I use Andalite technology?!› 

“When you’re going to get us killed, yes, I do!”

“Right!  Right!  Back up, both of you!” Matilda said, jumping up between the two of us, and she literally pushed us apart.  Or at least she tried to with me, but I only leaned back.  “Fighting is not going to get us anywhere.”

“Stupid Andalite, you should have discussed this with us!” Eva yelled, ignoring her.

‹And what would have been your opinion?  Oh, yes, I remember!  Stomping on the helpless, pure murder,› I said coldly, stepping back because I did not want human saliva on my face. 

“This is war!”

‹Do you think I’ve forgotten?› I spat, face sneering.  ‹Do you think I don’t know my enemy?  And still, I will give over fifty Yeerks the ability, because I refuse to become like _them_.›  My muscles were tight.  ‹Shall I be the Controller now, controlling their lives for years for my own amusement, giving them no control over their lives, forgetting about them?

‹I know the risks,› I said lowly, ‹but the fact is, I cannot stomach the other options, nor afford to be a proper prison guard, and I do not have the luxury of alienating our few remaining allies in this pitiful war.  This will _end_ this concern.›

“And the next time?  And the next?” Eva demanded.  “Will you give all the Yeerks the power to morph?”

My gaze was sharp.  ‹If it would end this war here and now, yes, I would.  I’d damn my name and honor and end my own life if it meant this would all end that much sooner.›

“Then you’re a fool,” she hissed.  “You give the Yeerks the power to morph, we end up with a million Visser Ones, we lose our edge.”

‹Yes, I know I am a fool.  I gave humans the power to morph.  And look how much closer to the end of the war we are,› I said, voice mocking.  ‹Oh, yes, look.  Seven humans can morph and see how the battles have turned!  Imagine what fifty Yeerks will do, imagine a hundred!›

“I can!” Eva said back.  “Yeerks that can morph will be as dangerous as Visser One!”

‹Visser One is a stupid fool,› I said.  ‹He doesn’t fight, he terrorizes.  In Prince Alloran’s body, he doesn’t even need the morphing ability.  It’s his toy.  If another Yeerk gets the ability – not a host with the ability, but just the ability – they are still more helpless than you pathetic humans.  They cannot morph in their hosts’ heads, they only have the two hours.  What can they do?  What _can_ they do?›

“Follow us.  Advance in rank.  Get us killed,” Marco said, more to point it out than to fight me. 

‹They will be _nothlits_.  Harmless.  And whether or not you agree, it doesn’t matter.  It _will_ be done,› I said firmly.

“You’re risking everything to keep your pathetic … honor,” Eva spat.

No.  I was risking everything to lose it, and the fight suddenly seemed to leave me.  ‹Tell the humans about the meeting.  Tell them what you wish.  I don’t care,› I said, turning away.

“You’re making a mistake,” Eva yelled.

By now, I’d made so many in my life, what was one more?

 ****

While I had not offered my opinion on a meeting location, I should have expected the humans would choose to meet in one of the wooden cabins.  I doubt it was done to purposefully antagonize me, for few humans would know or understand an Andalite’s natural aversion to closed-in locations.  Even still, it made my mood less pleasant, though I would stay professional.  I was a Prince, after all.

All of the humans were present, probably more out of curiosity than anything else.  In the least, from the varying expressions, I doubted many were here for altruistic reasons.  Was I being paranoid that some were here only to see the “mighty Andalite” beg?  Glancing at Eva, I did not think so.

Still, given how cramp the cabins were built and how many humans – and Andalites – were expected inside, they could have still planned it better.

Inside the cabin – _not enough room, not enough room, can’t move, can’t escape, can’t breathe_ – I struggled to maintain my poise.  Aximili stood just in the doorway, assuaging his own innate instincts, but some primitive part of me saw he was only trapping me in this location.  I struggled to subdue it, standing in the center of the building, by keeping at least one eye looking out a window.

Overhead on one of the support beams sat Toby Hamee, patient and interested, but subtly indicating she also had no pleasure in this location.

Directly in front were the children.  I couldn’t read their expressions, not because I couldn’t understand, but more that my mind had its own concerns.  Eva was in the back, arms crossed and frowning, Peter next to her.  Matilda was off to the side with some of the campers.

“So, what’s going on?”  Carlie, one of the campers, asked.  A tall female with brown hair and many facial spots I believe are called freckles, she was one who seemed to have integrated well with the circumstances.  While she had no patience for the Hork-Bajir – Matilda had scolded her once, though I do not know the particular reason – she did not mind bossing other humans around or leaving her old life. 

Deciding to end this quickly so I could leave this building, I said, ‹I desire your assistance.›

Several humans sat up straighter, and a few were already asking how among themselves.

‹In order to free ourselves of our Yeerk prisoners, I am – ›

– Not allowed to finish my sentence!  The campers were suddenly talking, demanding to know what I was saying, I wanted them to become hosts, weren’t the Yeerks the bad guys, et cetera.  The children, I noticed, made no protests.  Marco must have shared my plan with them.

‹QUIET!›

There were certain enjoyments in being a commanding Prince.  After giving the chatty humans a look, I continued, ‹As I was saying, I am making motions to rid ourselves of the Yeerk captives.  And _no_ , this does not involve any of you becoming hosts.  That _would not_ rid us of them.  What I am going to do is allow them to become _nothlits_ , or a being trapped in morph.  Since several of Yeerks favored becoming human, I am asking if there are any _volunteers_ who would be willing to give donate their DNA.›

To my surprise and pleasure, a human male, Michael, raised his hand shakily.  He might have been a terrified of me, because of my own actions and temper.  Even still, he should be held accountable.  _I_ did not go though _his_ things, after all.

‹You don’t have to raise your hand to volunteer.›

“No, umm, I’m not vol … umm, I have a question?” His voice ended in a squeak.

“Like why are you giving _Yeerks_ the ability to morph and not us?” another human, Lewis, interrupted.  “We can fight! We did.”

“Umm … yeah?” Michael echoed.

Emily, a sibling to one of them, agreed.  “Why don’t you give it to us?  I mean, you can trust us.  And we’re older than them!”

“Hey!” Rachel snapped, jumping up.  “Just what are you saying, Carpenter?”

“What she’s saying is that the world is being protected by dweebs who don’t even shave yet!” Paul defended.

“Rachel shaves, otherwise she’d be wolfwomen, right Tobias?” Marco joked quickly, which made Tobias turn red.  Rachel just ignored him.

I wished one of the adult campers had survived.  Perhaps they could have controlled their charges. 

Rachel started, “If you think you –”

“I shave,” Jake muttered.

“You’re just dinky frosh and –”

“You did _not_ just –”

“Everyone, that’s –”

“Can you even fight, you –”

Count to five.  The walls aren’t closing in.  One.  Patience.  Two.  Temper.  I cannot strike my tail at them.  Three.  Temper.  Four.  There was plenty of room to move.  And five.  ‹ ** _ENOUGH!!_** ›

Aximili had taken a step back, and I daresay Toby Hamee was startled from her perch momentarily.  Many humans had instinctively covered their ears.

‹This is _precisely_ why I haven’t offered any of you the morphing technology!  Your relentless bickering and arguing!› I snapped.  ‹Do you think I wanted to give them the ability?› My tail waved at the children.

“Hey!”

The children’s protests died at my glare.  ‹I did _not_.  I gave it to them out of a sense of obligation and because I recognized they could be a cognizant force.  I gave it to her,› I said, pointing to Matilda, ‹to save her life.  And I gave it to Eva because I had given it to her son and because she knew vital information!  What have you done to prove yourselves to me?›

“We helped defend the Valley,” Lewis said.

“And you don’t give us a chance!  Instead, you’re going to give the power to the enemy!”

‹To prisoners,› I corrected testily.

“You want us to help them,” Paul sneered.  “They killed my mom and sister, and Mr. Carpenter and Robertson.”

‹And how many have you killed?› I countered.  I remembered Paul after the battle.  ‹In any case, I do _not_ require your assistance.  I merely ask for it.›

“If we do this, can we get the power?” Michael asked, again raising his hand.

“They shouldn’t get it,” Eva called out.  “We can’t trust them.”

“Mom!”

The campers offered a larger uproar, but Eva ignored them, pushing passed them and coming towards me.  “You think we can trust them not to turn tail and run?  Half of them have plans to go home, the other half have tried to escape.  You give it to them, they’ll get some bird and fly away.  And then get caught and we’re screwed.”

“No we won’t!”

“We’ll fight!”

I let the words wash over me, looking out the window.  Eva was right.  While I trusted the children – within reason, and usually only for them to continue fight, not necessarily to obey my commands – I had no such faith about these new humans.  Humans weren’t like Andalites, who would fight because it was our honored duty.  (Very well, there may be a few Andalite cowards, but the _majority_ would fight.)

Looking above, I could see Toby Hamee staring down at me.  Her face was unreadable, and I wondered what her take would be on all of this.  Perhaps I would ask her, later.

‹I will not discuss giving any of you the gift at this time,› I said, making my voice have a touch of finality.  ‹You do not have to offer the Yeerks your DNA.  I only asked because it would have made my task easier.›

“You’ve got to give it to us,” Paul countered.  “You need help, and we’re all you got.”

Ellimists save us, then, because the planet was doomed. 

… Wait.  I did not think that.  I did not.

‹I said I would not discuss it now.  May I ask if there are any not opposed to donating their DNA?›  The was an unsurprising lack of hands.  If anyone had been willing, the argument about the gift had turned them or they did not wish to alienate their friends.  ‹Very well.  If you change your mind, feel free to speak with me.  Otherwise, the meeting has ended.  Cassie, may I have a word with you outside, please.›

She jumped.  “Umm, sure, Elfangor.”

Aximili was gracious enough to step away, and I breathed in the free air.  The tension on my shoulders and tail did not dissipate, but it was more bearable.  Via the roof, Toby Hamee appeared and jumped down ten yards away from me.  She gave me a nod.

‹May we speak later?› I called privately.  She most likely had a better grasp on the humans, because her people may have complained about them to her.  My humans did not often inform me about all the problems, of which I was grateful.

Again she nodded before walking back to her people.

Cassie did not join me alone.  The other children joined, and Rachel spoke.  “You’re not going to give them the morphing ability, are you?”

Another time and place, I thought Rachel would have wanted the additional forces, but she had felt personally affronted.  ‹I said I am not discussing it now.›

“Because they so –”

‹Rachel.  Not.  Now.›

Her jaw snapped shut and she glared at me.  The other children looked at each other before Jake asked tentatively, “When will we, Elfangor?  They have a point.”

‹When the _current_ problem is resolved,› I snapped, becoming extremely annoyed with humans in general.

“What did you want to tell me, Elfangor?” Cassie asked quickly, attempting to redirect the conversation.

‹I require other animal forms.  I cannot bring the Yeerks to the Gardens to get samples, and I hoped you could retrieve them for me.  Or if not that, tell me how to do so.›

Cassie nodded, thinking.  “You said we could acquire animals using blood?  I could maybe get samples of that.  It doesn’t have to be much, right?”

‹Only a few drops is necessary, but it must be reasonably fresh.  The cells have to be viable for the acquiring process to work.›

“So what do our friendly neighborhood Yeerks want to be?” Marco asked.

‹A group wishes to become dolphins.  Others have chosen to become birds.  One in particular wishes to be a hummingbird, though the rest prefer forms similar to ones we favor.  The Chee will supply the canine DNA, and the remaining majority of Yeerks wish to become human.  I have a list of forms they determined in the tent.›

“So we’re making like twenty-five new humans with sixteen people?” Tobias asked, giving the rough estimate of half of our Yeerk prisoners.

‹There is a blood drive being run by the Sharing.  Erek has promised to take samples.  And I have already asked.  He does not think it is anything we need to be concerned about.  It is an annual thing,› I said, anticipating their question.  ‹Hopefully he is correct.›

“I still can’t believe you are giving Yeerks the power to morph,” Rachel muttered.

Neither could I, but I merely gave her a cold look.  ‹When do you think you could have the samples?› I asked Cassie.

She thought about it for a few seconds.  “I guess we could just break it –”

‹We are not in that big of a hurry.›

“Okay, then, a few days.  Maybe by this weekend.  I can come help Mom, no problem, but it might take a while before I can get at the blood samples, or manage to take fresh ones.  But if the birds are local, we have a few at the Clinic, so those I can get pretty fast.  By tomorrow, even.”

‹Bring them as you can.  It will be better if we can whittle the numbers down slowly.  Come, I’ll give you the list.›

After leading her to the tent and retrieving the list from its niche, Cassie looked it over.  She nodded a few times.  “This shouldn’t be that hard.”

‹There is a first.›

“Elfangor?”

‹Yes, Cassie.›

“I’m glad you’re doing this.  It’s the right thing to do.”

I gave her the same cold glare I gave Rachel.  ‹Tell the others I am going to feed.›

 ****

It wasn’t my planned actions, but I found myself in the former formerly known as Henry Agincourt in front of the King residence, a bag in hand and _Escafil_ device in bag.  Filled with a desire to get this _over with_ , and as quickly as possible, I only ate for a few hours.  In my mind, it was just better to simply disobey the law so I would not longer be held down by it.  It was, as the humans say, easier to seek forgiveness than beg permission, and with this path, I could not undo my actions.  They would be beyond my control, therefore nothing I would have to think about.  No longer would continue to torment my thoughts, at least not in the way they were now.

Part of me felt like the foulest of cowards, doing this action to relieve myself of the torture, and my only hope was that things would turn out the way I hoped.  If I ended up with _more_ discomfort, it would probably serve me right.

At my knock, Anthony King opened the door and recognized my form.  “Come in …” He trailed off, unaware of the name I went by in this morph.  For an unfathomable moment, I decided Chris would be an appropriate new name for the morph, but didn’t say it.

“Thank you.  How do you do?” I asked as the door shut and our conversations would be secure.

“We are well.  What brings you here, Prince Elfangor.”

I reached into the bag and withdrew the cube, held it daintily on the tips of my fingers.  “If the Chee are not against it, I had thought to start the … the agreement.”

He beamed at me.  “The Chee would not be against it, Prince Elfangor.  Come.”

Placing the bag down on a coffee table we went by, I asked, “If the receiving families are not prepared for them, we do not have to rush.  I would not wish you any more dangers.”  Housing Yeerks who were _nothlits_ was a danger, even if the Chee trusted them.

Down in the basement, the Chee calmed the worry.  “They expect the pets soon.  And, Prince Elfangor, if the worst came to pass, it would not be the first time the Chee have collectively withdrawn for a few years or decades.  The Yeerks will not find us, even if they are aware we exist, not if we go into hiding.”

“You have gone into hiding?” I repeated, surprised.  “I had thought you have always lived among the humans since you arrived.”

“Not always.  And then, it was not because we had been found out.”

“Then why, if I may ask?”  While my understanding of human history was not vast, I could not think of an instance where they could not remain as they were now.

Anthony King said calmly, “Do you not think we would need to spend _some time_ constructing our homes for our charges?  Grass and trees do not grow overnight.”

It took me a moment to comprehend, and once I did, I laughed.  “Ah, yes, of course.  I understand the trials of horticulture very well.  But still, for all of the Chee to go into hiding?”

“Do you suppose _this_ is our only center?” he asked as we entered the underground center.  He was kind enough to put up a field to block the sounds of dogs.  “We have one in many countries.”

My eyes widened.  “You care for so many creatures?”

“We must.  And it is not a trial for us.  At least one Chee is always present.”  He grinned at me, the hologram dropping to show the inner dog.  “Do you think we only have the few Chee you are aware of to complete our numbers?  So few?”

“Your ship must have been very big.”

He smiled and didn’t argue the point, but then I wondered if perhaps they had cannibalized most of their ships.  They must have.  Human technology when they arrived was too primitive, not much less advanced than what they had now!

Instead, I said, “You mean to tell you have Chee on each continent and you haven’t told me?  I could be been eating the finest cuisines humans can offer if I knew of such allies.  I am most displeased.”

“You would abuse us so?”  He was more amused than insulted.

“For a decent side of curry, I might have.”  Looking around, I asked, “Where is Champ?”  I could not see the pet I favored and was a bit disappointed he had rushed to greet me, or, given the size of the park, at least was not in the process of greeting me.

Anthony King’s voice was apologetic.  “I am sorry, Prince Elfangor.  We do not keep him with the majority.  One of the other Chee keeps him at her residence.”

“I hope he isn’t causing trouble,” I said, surprised.  Champ was always a very well-behaved pet, and I couldn’t think of him needing personal supervision to keep out of mischief.

“He is not.  However, Champ prefers a home with … fewer distractions and more personal contact.  He is a highly trained and liked to use his talents to care of his watcher.”

I must have been staring.  “I … I did not know he was going to be such a burden.”

“No, no, not a burden, Prince Elfangor!” Anthony King said, amused.  “We do not mind.  Though, we do find he is a bit … spoiled.”

Coming from a Chee, I thought that a bit incredulous, and I did not think I imagined the implication that _I_ was the one responsible for his state.  “Champ is not spoiled!”

“If you say so.”  He did not lose his smile.  “But we are sorry he is not here for you to meet.  He has missed his home and owners.  I could give you the address, if you like.”

“No, no,” I dismissed.  “I do not have to see him, I trust he is well.”

“It is not ….” Anthony King stopped, perhaps in conversation with his compatriots.  After a few seconds of thought he said, “Some of the others are coming with the Yeerks and the dog breeds they wish to become.”

Indeed, there were Chee moving towards us.  I sighed and felt an uneasy sensation in my human stomach – butterflies, humans call them, though they felt more like large fish – before nodding and starting to strip so I could demorph.  While a canine’s eyes were not great, I did not wish to take the risk they could recognize my morph.

I was surrounded by the silver androids and dogs when I was finished.  The Chee were polite, holding back the curious dogs, of which I was thankful.  It might have caused a poor reception if I reacted to an over-inquisitive canine.  Scooping the _Escafil_ device with my tail and bringing it to my hand, I asked, ‹Where are the Yeerks in question?›

There were six Chee, not including Anthony King, and their faces opened to show the Yeerk snug and secure.  The metal hands gently removed them, and my ears could faintly hear the squeaks of the parasites.  Yet, when the faces closed and the hands were held out, none of the Yeerks attempted to escape.  The smaller dogs that the Chee held attempted to eat them, and the larger ones on the ground whined and tried to look up, but the Yeerks were kept at a safe distance.  If the barking annoyed them – it did for me – the small slugs did not indicate. Indeed, they sat docilely and waited. 

… If they waited too long, they would desiccate and die. 

It was only a fleeting thought.

Taking a deep breath – not for courage, but for something … I don’t know what – I spoke in a level tone.  ‹Yeerks, this is War-Prince Elfangor.  I am here to honor our agreement.›

There was some movement from a few of them.  I cannot say if it was from fear or anticipation or both.

‹At this time, it is only for those who wish to become canines.  If you have had a change of heart, now is the time to speak.›

None moved.  Indeed, one made an impertinent squeak, and I gave it a look with my stalk eye.  That one was going to be trouble, I knew it.

‹Very well.  You shall be placed on a device known as the _Escafil_ device.  When the Gift is passed to you, you shall feel a strange sensation.  It is perfectly normal and nothing to fear.  You shall then each be placed on the dog you wished to become.  You will then have to acquire the DNA.  Merely desire to make the creature part of you.  The dog should become docile during the process, however, there are a few creatures that remain … energetic.›  I focused my gaze on one dog in particular, who was trembling with excitement and barked at odd intervals.  ‹Once you have acquired the DNA, you may become the creature of focusing on the form.  The process is painless, but there will be some odd sensations and the actual sight is not always pleasant.›

I paused, letting the information sink in.  Then, meeting the electronic gaze of the Chee, I held out the _Escafil_ device.  At my nod – they were waiting for it, I do not know why – each of them placed the prisoner on the cube.  I was not trembling; in fact, I was in a sort of calm, though my muscles were tense and tail too high to be seen at ease.

The command was given.  Six more strikes against me, six more times I had broken _Seerow’s Kindness_ , and to these beings, Yeerks, our enemies, the ones we were at War with.

Imagining my life after the Council got through with me, I knew I was going to miss my tail and would end up going mad from the isolation.  My death was going to be the only thing to save me from such a fate, and faced with such a prospect, I preferred it.

‹They may acquire their forms now,› I said quietly, bending enough so I could deposit the _Escafil_ device into the bag at my hooves and avoiding anyone’s gaze.  ‹The canines should go into a trance.  They may then begin to morph.  It would be best to send the true dogs away.›

The Chee did not speak, merely complied with my words after I had spoken them.  I watched dispassionately as each of them carefully set the Yeerk on a dog, keeping the creatures from attempting to lick or ingest the parasites.  It was lucky the dogs followed protocol and went into a trace, for it made it easy to see the process had happened.  As the dogs were sent away, I spoke, ‹You may morph now.  Once you are fully formed, you will feel a swell of the canine’s instincts.  They may be difficult to overcome immediately, but they can be.›

Three impatient Yeerks were already swelling up, sprouting hair and ears, and one of them was a mostly nose.  The remaining Yeerks started after I finished speaking, and when the Yeerks were large enough, the Chee set them on the ground.

All of the androids had their intense gaze on the morphing process, all of them still and … and smiling.  Were they in awe at these creatures who were becoming the remnants of their creators?  Maybe perhaps it was because they were witnessing the power of Andalite technology, at what it could offer?  Or was it some strange thought I could not comprehend, something the Chee believed or had learned in their endless lifetimes?

The first done was a spotted fire dog – a Dalmatian, was that what the breed was?  Wasn’t there a movie about them? – and he lifted his nose in the air, breathing, before rushing around barking like a fool, attempting to investigate his brethren, though the Chee kept him from doing damage.  I smiled at the behavior, though both ended when he saw _me_.  Instincts reined in, he froze and growled, stepping back.

Bad dog.

The others were finishing – a large Dane, all legs and deep voice; a daschund, a ridiculous form; a Lassie collie, sniffing and digging; a mutt that was more fur, ears, and tail than anything else; and then a little – _it was urinating on me!_

The little Yeerk moved fast before my hoof kicked it or a Chee could intervene, and I shook the appendage in disgust as … she barked her laughter, rolling in the grass. 

‹I will pretend you were still under the influence of the form’s instincts,› I said levelly, but then blinked in surprise at my own voice.  Was there humor in it?!  The little beast had _urinated on me_ , after the Gift I gave her! 

There was laughter in my head and barking in my ears, and then chatter when the Yeerks realized they could communicate via thought-speak.

‹I wished I had thought of doing that,› the Dalmatian sniffed.

‹I do not know what you mean,› the terrier said primly, sitting innocent before digging in the ground.

‹What’s that smell, what’s that smell, do you smell that?› the daschund barked under the Dane.

The Chee were smiling.  Their wide smiles almost looked like those of true dogs, except they had no lolling tongue, which the Chee should not be disappointed about.  While a lick from a dog was, at times, very pleasing, the creatures tended to impossibly leave more saliva than love.

The androids soon moved to their true charges.  Watching the morphed Yeerks play – there was no other word to use – for a few minutes, I felt my presence was no longer required and turned to leave.  I had not gotten a few paces when the Urine-ator circled and bounced in front of me.  ‹Running away, oh great Andalite?›  There was mockery, but humor.  ‹You don’t plan to babysit us, to make sure we follow your deal?›

‹I was not aware it was necessary, ma’am.  The Chee will tend to you better than I could be capable of.›

‹Or interested.›  With what must have been supreme effort, she stilled herself.  ‹You did not have to do this for us.›

I heard the question and implication.  Why would the infamous _Beast_ act in such a fashion?  Where was the trick?  ‹No, I did not.  And yet, I found I did.  And all I get for my troubles is a headache and a leg that smells of urea.›

The head cocked to the side.  ‹You could have killed me easily for that.  I know how fast your tail can move.›

‹The Chee move even faster.  And I would not harm someone who was still under their form’s basic instincts.  Though, oddly enough, I was not aware they included urinating on Andalites.›

‹A lingering one from my former form,› she excused. 

‹That does explain much.  I hope you find your new life and following home pleasurable,› I said, inclining my head. 

‹We know what you’ve done,› the Dane said, stepping towards me, a stick in his strong jaw.  ‹We know of the Andalite law.›

I stiffened.  ‹It is my concern.  Do not think about it.›

‹We don’t care what happens to you, _Beast_ ,› the Dalmatian growled, and did I imagine his companions give him a canine glare.  ‹You forced us to become these creatures.›  He laughed cruelly.  ‹The ultimate irony – even if the Yeerks to not destroy you, your own people will.  And it –›  He yelped in pain when the Dane, surprisingly, snapped at him.  For a second, I feared they would fight, but the Dalmatian backed down, growling. I hoped the home he went to did not have any young children.

‹Forgive him, Prince Elfangor,› the Dane said, even as he growled back.

‹There is nothing to forgive,› I said in a tight voice.  ‹If it is my fate, so be it.  I will reap as I have sown.  And you must …›

I did not finish, because my ears caught a familiar sound, and I straightened to see a form racing towards me from one of the elevators.  I laughed when the German Shepherd leapt up to my chest, trying to lick my face.  ‹Champ!  Champ, down!  Down, Champ.  Yes, I have missed you as well,› I smiled when the dog finally was on all of his paws, scratching his ears.  With a stalk, I saw Anthony King near the elevator Champ had exited.  The hologram was far too smug for my tastes.

Champ leaned against me, enjoying my ministrations, before looking at the morphed Yeerks with his curious expression.  No doubt he smelled their former selves, but he was well trained and would not become too inquisitive.

‹You have one of these creatures as a pet?› the Collie asked.  He had been silent, more interested in sniffing the ground, and I could see the end of an old bone just starting to reveal itself.

‹Formerly.  And Champ was not mine, but one of my warrior’s.  Have you been a good boy, Champ?› I asked him quietly.  The dog leaned his head for better access and beat me with his tail.  ‹Where is your ball?  Go get a ball.›

Obeying instantly, he darted off towards one of the many toy areas the Chee had before returning with a rubber toy.  A few true dogs followed him, and the crowd made some the new dogs step back.  However, soon there was mutual sniffing.

Champ gave me the ball and jumped eagerly, and there were too many eyes on me, or at least the toy in my hand.  My Andalite arms had no strength for this, not like my human arms, so I was forced to throw it in the air and hit it with the side of my blade, sending it far.  The mob of dogs ran, even some of the Yeerks.  Some true dogs remained, sniffing my belongings, myself, and the morphed Yeerks who refused to behave so in my presence.

There was a movement of air, and Anthony King was at my side.  There were more toys in his hands.

‹You did not have to do that,› I said.

“Perhaps I did.  You both were missing each other, you cannot deny it.”

‹I can deny anything,› I said, taking one of the toys.  It was a Frisbee.  These I could toss easily, and before the mob of dogs returned to surround us – I do not even know which one of them had the ball – I let it fly.

“Stay for some time, Prince Elfangor,” Anthony King said, tossing his own toy.  Other Chee were following our example, giving the dogs their playful exercise.  “It will help you.”

‹Help me?›

“There is no better doctor than a dog who wishes to play.”

‹After I break my leg, I will remember you said that.  And I will disagree.›

Anthony King placed a hand on my shoulder.  “Prince Elfangor, have you not realized, since you have seen the dogs, you have been smiling?”

‹That is because they sense fear.›

“But they also sense happiness, and give it when it is not there.  Play catch with us for a little while.  Run with them.”

I tilted my stalk at him and said dryly, ‹I am nearly a deer.  They are nearly wolves.  And you believe such an activity will end well?›

He grinned, unrepentant.  “Nearly.”  And then he handed me another ball with an expression that would broker no arguments.  I only tail-swatted it so we would be saved from the over-eager dogs, not because I felt I had to obey him, though I must ask – what is it about Earth that makes its natives, even those who only have lived on this planet for a few thousand years, think they must make me do things like this for my own benefit?  Earth must make its people think an Andalite is unable to care for himself.

 ****

Lying on my stomach, I was surprising exhausted, though not as much as most of the dogs.  Feeling a bit smug, I overlooked many of the dozing animals that I had run into collapsing, to their barks of encouragement and the Chees’ laughter.  It had been an odd sensation, being chased by a pack of dogs.  The primal part of me was terrified of the teeth and sounds, but the evolved side knew it was only a game.  One that did have its dangers, yes, but still, I could have easily taken care of these animals. 

Champ huffed a breath of hot air across my back before yawning.  When he caught my eye, he panted a few times.  I petted his back with my blade and we sat to enjoy the quiet.

“You should run with them more often, Prince Elfangor,” Erek smiled, coming to relieve another Chee of the duty.  “I have never seen them so sated.”

‹Do you not run with them?›

He sat down next to me and scratched Champ’s ears.  “We do, but we do not stir the same desire to chase as you would, you understand.”

‹I understood dogs chase cars all the time,› I said in response.  ‹Though not Champ, who is clever to realize he wouldn’t be able to drive it once he caught it.›

Erek gave a small laugh.  “Indeed.”  His eyes went over the park, taking in everything.  “And how do you find our new additions?”

I did not respond immediately.  How did I take these new _nothlits_ , for the time limit had passed during our games, and several of them had even played with me.  True, there had been many taunts (thrown from both sides, though I kept mine private to the Chee,) but they had not attempted to disembowel me.  ‹I cannot find fault with them.  At least, nothing worth mentioning.›  My stalk fell on the Dalmatian, who was lying with his head up, staring at me.

The Chee noticed my eye.  “Xatan Four-Five-Eight.  He believes he almost became a subvisser before the Andalites ruined his campaign.  He was demoted and punished by being sent to Earth.  He is more bitter than dangerous.”  His voice was quiet, perhaps even beyond what a dog could hear at that distance.

‹Is he?›

“Yes.  He fancies himself clever, and he is ambitious, but he is far too cowardly.  He merely wishes to be served and pampered, but will not do the work to get there.  We are sending him to a Chee who works in Hollywood.  He will be a star.  His chosen name is Prefect the Perfect.”

I made a mental note to not see any new movies that had a Dalmatian in it.  ‹Is that so?›

Erek nodded.  “I do not think he has yet realized it can be shortened to P.P.”  There was no apology in his voice.  Apparently none of the Chee had warned him of that eventuality, and I was amused at their tactics.

 ‹And what of the Dane?›  The Dane, I could tell, had been a warrior.  Perhaps the dog’s own regal bearing crossed over, but the _nothlit_ had stood and surveyed, but with an innate calmness.  A all-legs calmness that was lying on the ground sleeping.

“Heyo Two-Two-Two.  He has commanded many battles with a Hork-Bajir hosts nearly the entire span of this war.  He was transferred to Earth, in hopes he could assist.  However, Visser One would never listen, and Heyo Two-Two-Two would not enter that battle, as he would have lost.

“He is to go to a family in the country in another state.  There are three children, young, between three and six.  He does not wish to be reminded of the war and thinks of this as his retirement.  He was the first who agreed to this.”

‹Why did he chose a dog?  Or that particular breed?› I asked, curious.

Erek leaned back on his hands, looking like a normal human teen.  “He was practical.  He wanted a form that would be offer him comfort and safety, not one he would have to fight to survive as.  For a while, he thought to become a house cat.” He gave a shudder.

‹For shame!› I teased.

“Indeed.  He changed his mind when he learned house cats are not large.  He did not want to be so small.  Our Dane, Domino, sparked his interest, and it remained even when he learned of the health concerns and relatively limited lifespan.  And with the home, he will still have someone to protect and watch over.  He has decided his name is Whisper.”

My eyes crinkled in laughter.  His bark was the exact opposite of a whisper.  ‹The Collie?›

“Betta One-Nine-Zero.  There is not much to him, I think.  He has been low in the ranks much of his life and does not expect much.  He was merely a soldier and not very clever, though he knows it.  I daresay he chose to become a dog because his commander had.”

‹And yet he chose to become Lassie and not a Dane?›

“We know a family who wished a collie.  He was amendable to persuasion.  Indeed, his name now is Laddie.”  He jerked his head, and following the motion I saw the long brown dog, who was busy chewing a cloth toy.  “Yeo Zero-Five-Seven chose a daschund because he thought they looked funny.”

I could not argue with the assessment, though I did wonder at the logic.

“He is … a rather strange Yeerk.  His name now is Doo-Doo.  It was going to be Wee-Wee, the, _ahem_ , Weiner dog, but we convinced him the mother would not appreciate it, even if her son would.  His new name is a compromise, though along a similar vein, unfortunately.  As you can tell, he has a sense of humor.  You would like him.”

‹You are confusing me with the children.  My humor is not so juvenile.› 

Erek did not agree or disagree.  Indeed, he looked at me like I was an amusing little one who couldn’t do a proper math problem even if I thought I could.  It was like he was the adult humoring the child’s attempt, be it wrong or not.

“He was Sevew Eight-Four-Three,” he said, pointing to the mixed breed _nothlit_.  “His name is now Buttons.  He took this as an Up-You to Visser One.  He used to be in part of the information sector and got transferred, and he was decidedly not happy.  He is to live with a college student.

“And lastly, there is Viri Six-One-Six, the Jack Russell terrier.  She is the youngest.”

‹Are you sure her number is not six-six-six?› I asked, recalling the odd human fact.

“Jack Russell terriers do have an abundance of energy, but they are not evil.  And neither is she.”

‹She urinated on me.›

“Yes, I heard.”  Erek was grinning.  “My father was relieved you did not react negatively.”

‹Just your father?  I thought he had a better opinion of me than the others.  How enlightening.›

“I am glad to help.  Her name is now Sophia.  She wants to have a family.”

My stalks stretched in surprise.  ‹She does?  That is very … very honorable.›

He gave me a scolding look. 

‹I am not being flippant,› I said quietly, petting Champ again.  ‹Has she always wished one?›

“There was a high probability she would have been chosen to be a third of the source for the next generation on Earth.  Sophia has always accepted that.”

‹And yet she chose this life?›

“She has not always accepted she would not live to see her off-spring, not after she had hosts who had children.  She wants a large litter.”

‹They will be normal puppies, not at the same intelligence as her.›

“Do you think that really matters?  In her place, would you be upset if your child did not have Andalite intelligence?”

I didn’t answer.  Let him take my silence as he wished.  But no, I was not upset Tobias did not have the inherent mental capacities Andalite children have.  There was no way for it to pass.  (Or was there?)  Though, if I had stayed, would my opinion (hopes and desires) be different? 

No, such thoughts were not productive.  What was done was done, and there was no reason to think of what could have been, because it never could be.

‹I should leave,› I said, gently pushing Champ off before standing up.  ‹Even though I said I would be away for some time, I do not wish the others to worry.›

“Of course.”

I bent to pet Champ, hands on either side of his head.  ‹It has been good to see you, boy.  Do not give the Chee too much trouble,› I told him privately.  ‹Your father took my things up, did he not?›

Erek nodded and led us back to the lift that would take us to the King basement.  Champ followed at my side and I smiled when he gave a whine at being denied entrance.  ‹I am sorry, boy, but it is better for you to stay.  Keep an eye on your new brethren for me.  Go, off.›

“He is very fond of you,” Erek said as we started to rise up to the ground level.  He helped me keep my balance as I morphed back to human.

‹It is only because his real owner is not here.  I am a pale second there.›

“Perhaps.”  The basement chilled my bare human skin, and I quickly dressed myself.  While I was tying my shoes, Erek asked, “Would you like to stay for supper?”

“I cannot.  I have dallied too long.  Thank you for the offer, though.  I appreciate it.”  By the scents wafting down from the kitchen, I would have appreciated the meal as well, and it must have shown on my face.  Erek repeated his offer and I almost didn’t have the power to refuse it.

“When shall you do the next group?” Erek asked as we ascended the stairs.

“I do not know.  Cassie has to retrieve the animal samples, and you still have to get the human ones.”

“We have started,” he protested good-naturedly.  “If you wish, you may keep the _Escafil_ device here.”

No.  No, I did not like that.  Admitting the fact made me feel in parts terrible, but I did not feel comfortable leaving the technology with them.  It was a stupid fear, irrational.  The Chee were our allies and would not turn against us, not with this technology.  And yet, I could not.  I was giving the Gift away, but I would not leave the _Escafil_ device where it could be taken, where it could be used to give the Gift to ones without my approval.

“Thank you for the offer, but I would not ask you to take that risk.”

His smile did not waver.  “Very well.  Come, Prince Elfangor, stay for supper.  My mother makes a delicious fruit pie for dessert.”

I resolve faltered, especially once I saw said pie.  “… Perhaps just for the pie.”

 ****

It was hours into the night when I made it back to the camp, for I had to hide the _Escafil_ device and I could not just _leave_ the King residence.  It would have been very rude.

After speaking for a few minutes to the Hork-Bajir guards, I entered the valley.  There were few Hork-Bajir awake, the fires small.  I did not see any humans running around, and I released a breath I had not realized I had been holding.  I would wait for their confrontation with the morning light.

Stepping lightly, I nodded at each of the Hork-Bajir.  Some of the little ones woke and might have run to greet me, perhaps beg for a story, but their parents tucked them back in. 

“You missed some excitement, once you left.”

I nearly jumped, almost swiped my tail before I realized it was Toby Hamee’s voice.  My eyes did not see her in the shadows up in the tree – but I had not even been looking up, so terrible was my inattentiveness.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you.”  She descended with a single leap, her legs bending to absorb the shock.  Only the snap of twigs and leaves signaled the motion.

‹It was my own fault.  I was not attending.  A poor mistake,› I reproached myself bitterly.

“We do not have to always be on our guard, Prince Elfangor.  Not here.”

‹Perhaps.  What happened when I was away?  Did the Yeerks –›

“No, no, nothing so dire,” she quickly calmed.  “It was the humans.  A very big argument erupted, even by their standards.  My people were very worried.”

‹I’m sorry.›

“Do not apologize.  You are not responsible for the humans.”

That made me curious.  ‹I am not?›

The fire caught a flash of her face.  “Not as you are with the Animorphs, or with Eva and Loren.  With the campers, I fear I must share my own burden of responsibility.  Though I prefer to think your humans must care for them more than either of us, and I think they do as well.”

‹Do they?›

“I do not see you ever settling the disputes between them.”

‹I am hardly ever aware of them.  The females do not tell me much.  My opinion is not valued, I fear,› I said wryly.

“You said it, I did not.”

‹Ah, the wit of a female.  They do always band together against the hapless male.›

“Again, you said it, I did not.  You asked for my opinion.  Would you like it now?”

Alert, I agreed but asked if we could go to the edge of the camp.  I did not want to chance too many to overhear.  Toby Hamee concurred and led us to a small alcove.  There was only a small fire near enough to give us light to see, and the Hork-Bajir tending to it would never think to eavesdrop.

“You have given the ability to some Yeerks tonight, haven’t you?”

‹How did you know?›

“I did not, not until you just spoke.”

‹Ah.  I walked into that,› I said dryly.  ‹But yes, I did.  There are six new dogs in the world.›

“I will not ask if you think your methods are wise.  Your actions are not placing my people in danger, and it is as you said.  This will relieve us of the burden of them as prisoners.  But for the humans ….”

‹Yes, for them.›  I sighed.  ‹That was what the argument was about, was it not?›

“You know it was.”  She climbed up a tree to a low branch, and then crouched so we were at eye level.  “I cannot trust them, Prince Elfangor.”

I closed my main eyes.  ‹I was afraid of that.›

“I am not saying they should not receive your Andalite technology,” she continued quickly.  “I think they should.”

‹You do?› I asked, surprise causing my eyes to open.

“We need fighters.  They will be a risk, but they can be a calculated one.  Most already wish to fight.  They should not be forced to stay here and do nothing, and nor should they be allowed to do nothing to keep their safety.”

I nodded, thinking over her words.  ‹And you think they can be trusted?›

Toby Hamee looked at her feet, choosing her words.  “You would be perhaps a better judge of that, Prince Elfangor.  I do not understand all of the nuances of humans, and nor do I wish to.”

‹But do you _trust_ them?›

“I do not think they will go to the Yeerks intentionally and put us in danger.  But I do not trust them with my life, nor with any life of my people.  We are still the stupid Hork-Bajir to them, still monsters.”

‹And just think how they find Andalites,› I consoled, remembering the few words I had already overheard.  ‹Arrogant SOBs, freaks, other epitaphs from the creative human mind.›

“They are rarely very creative, Prince Elfangor.  Usually mundane.”

‹Shush, do not let them know.  It will crush their egos.›  We shared a quiet laugh.  ‹What was the consensus at the human … debate, if I dare to ask?›

“Much screaming.  I did not understand much, except your parentage was insulted until your brother spoke.  He was most displeased.  Loren had to step in to calm him.”

‹Did she?  That is not a good sign.›

The Seer sliced a bit of bark.  “I believe the Animorphs are for the action, in general.  Eva is still opposed, but unless her suspicions are confirmed, she will be pleased to have them despite what she says. The only obstacle that matters is if you chose to give them.”  And then she chewed her treat.

‹I do not have much of a choice, do I?› I said finally. 

“You know you do,” Toby Hamee said in her level voice.  “It is only your power.  And I know you would be, no, that you _are_ risking much.  Your brother has indicated it, though I doubt most of the humans have paid attention to his words.”

‹You cannot expect humans to care what happens to one lone Andalite when faced with the chance to protect their world.›

Toby Hamee snapped her beak.  “Perhaps that is where we differ, Prince Elfangor.  The humans will use us as much as we use them, and they will use us worse.  My people are, to them as they were to the Yeerks, cannon fodder.  It is a good thing I look at the humans the same way, no?”

‹The children are not cannon fodder,› I snapped.  ‹They have done much for you!›

“The Animorphs are different.  There, we are allies.  We will make equal risks for each other.  But to the _humans_ and the _Andalites_ , you cannot deny how we Hork-Bajir are seen.”

I made no response, because from her side, her point was true.  But it did not negate the fact that I did not I enjoy being thought of in such an unflattering light, me or my people.  Even if it was true.

“I do not mean to insult you or your brother, Prince Elfangor,” she added.  “I think there are few Andalites who would bother learning a Hork-Bajir’s name or to tell the children stories so the parents can get their work done.”

‹It is, as you said, mutual exploitation,› I said, tone sour.

She laughed.  “Tell me how you are exploiting us by doing so and I will give the concession to you.”

‹Perhaps we are merely making you think we are closer than allies so we can get the most benefit from you.›  Even as I spoke, the words rang hollow.  It was a stupid thing to have said, and I only said it because my pride had been hurt.

“Perhaps.  It is a tactic I have not heard of many Andalites using,” was all the Seer said before slicing another piece of bark.

We were silent for a time.  I listened to the sounds of the camp, the fires and movement of those still awake.  My stalk eyes could pick up changes in shadow and light around us, having a wider spectrum of sight than my main eyes.  Just beyond the camp, I could dimly even hear the natural wildlife of earth – a raccoon chittering, a night bird’s call, a wolf or dog in the distance.  Overheard, a waxing moon and stars gave their light, the faint breeze promised rain in two days time as it carried scent of pine to us and took our scents to the woods beyond. 

‹When the Yeerk prisoners are dealt with, I will start giving the humans the Gift,› I said in a quiet voice, barely allowing myself to be heard.  ‹Cassie will need to get more samples from the Gardens.›

“My people will offer themselves freely, if the humans desire,” Toby Hamee said, doing me the kindness of keeping her voice just as soft.  “It will be as it will be.”

‹Yes, it shall.  After all, what does it matter what happens to one when the safety and well-being of millions hangs in the balance?  Provided, of course, everything ends with the safety and well-being of millions.  I would even settle for a few hundred.›

“You have already saved a few hundred, Prince Elfangor, with your actions,” Toby Hamee pointed out.  “My parents and myself.  And by us, everyone who my parents rescued.  The humans your Animorphs have saved and those who were saved by them being saved.  The Yeerks you have allowed to live.  By now, it has added up.”

I gave her a crooked smile at her attempt.  ‹And when it ends, how many will be subtracted?  Though it looks well now, in time it may all reverse.›

“Perhaps it will,” she agreed.  “Perhaps by your actions now, the Yeerks will ultimately win.”

‹Thank you.›

Her next comment took me by surprise.  “You are the butterfly.”

‹I beg your pardon?›

She smiled at my confusion.  “A butterfly landed on one of the adults, and Loren gave our children a jar to catch it so they could look at it closer.  She said it was a monarch butterfly and made the adults laugh when she said we were saving Australia from having a hurricane by keeping it captured.  They cannot understand how a little thing could do such damage, but I asked if perhaps we had made it happen by catching it.”

My brow furled.  ‹I have heard of this human logic before.  It deals with chaos.›

“Loren said it was the butterfly effect.”

‹Yes, that is right.  My people have a similar theory, but not so simplified.›  Or, ironically, as naturalistic in explanation.  ‹And perhaps I am making a hurricane in my movements and should be stopped.›

“It doesn’t matter, does it?  We released the butterfly and it flew away, heedless of the damage it was causing.  If, in fact, it was causing any at all.  It would be very much like an Andalite to think what he does _has_ to cause something to happen that will affect the rest of the known universe, and maybe even parts of the unknown.  I doubt you are _that_ important, Prince Elfangor, even if your infamous Andalite ego says otherwise.”

I laughed dryly.  ‹And yet, even if the butterfly does or does not cause some natural disaster, it still chooses its own flight and must own its own consequences.›  I looked up at the sky.  ‹It must have always been coming to this, ever since I stepped on this fool planet.  Whenever I deal with humans, I end up damning myself.›

“I think you mean whenever you deal with Yeerks, Prince Elfangor.  And they have damned all of us long before we started damning ourselves.” 

‹You may be right.›

“I hardly think I ‘may’ be right,” she said, reproachful.

‹Indeed,› I apologized, smiling.  ‹Thank you for your opinion.›

“I will always have one.  You need only ask for it.”

I gave a quiet laugh.  ‹Yes.  Fellow Princes always do have opinions.  That does not mean one should ask for them, especially when they deal with your own person.›

“It is a good thing, then, I am not a Prince.”  There was a flash of her devilish grin.

‹Yes.  I believe the humans would think to call you a Princess, as if they would call a female Captain a Captainess.  We must work on this language barrier.  Humans seem to insist they are always in the right with it.›

“So then I am not a princess, Prince Elfangor?” she mocked.

‹I am not fool enough to deny any female the title, Princess Toby Hamee,› I replied, placing the formal emphasis on the title.  ‹And whether or not to wish it, you must be one for now.›

“The humans have stories that the prince must rescue the princess, don’t they, _Prince_ Elfangor?”

‹Yes.  But the princess has to exist so the prince has worth.›

Toby Hamee laughed.  “A very nice reply.  I will not dare counter it.”  Sensing we were done, she stood up and jumped to a higher branch.  “I will not tell the humans of your decision.”

‹Thank you.  And, again, thank you for your input,› I said more seriously than I had before.

“Thank you for asking for it.  Good night, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Good night, Toby Hamee.  Rest well.›  I watched as she disappeared into the branches, then listened as the limbs creaked and leaves rustled before she jumped to another tree, and then another.

I went back to the heart of the camp, before going towards the human tents and cabins.  I peeked inside the windows of one of the buildings to check on the campers, but there wasn’t enough light to see them.  It was no matter; I didn’t really want to see them anyway, I just wanted to claim I had attempted to.  I ignored the other building and examined the few remaining tents.  One of them held most of the electronics and extra foods, and I knew on the odd instances some of the campers preferred to spend the night in a tent than a cabin.  (There had been a battle of the separation of the sexes.  As I understood it, said battle still had a few skirmishes because of some amorous individuals.)

Marco kept his own tent, filled with things he deemed “his” and refused to share.  Mostly they were remnants of his old life or things he had had Aximili put together.  If they thought I did not know about their wide range of television stations, they at least did not flaunt it in my face, and especially not in the face of the other humans.  His parents and Matilda also stayed in their own separate tents unless the weather was unpleasant.  I did not blame them the choice, for having dealt with a houseful of adolescents myself, I agreed it was wise to be as far away from them as possible.

Assuaged that the humans were fine, I fell into a light rest, allowing my main eyes to close and tail to drop a few inches.  My thoughts swam in my head, growing sluggish, and my last thought must have been Toby Hamee’s voice saying, “You are a butterfly,” for I dreamed of them.

It was a field, all of the flapping, landing on flowers, being tossed in the wind, tumbling.  Light and delicate, the sun made their patterns glow.  And yet, in this field of hundreds, of thousands of insects dancing on the air, my mind fell to one trapped in a spider’s web.  It struggled futilely against the delicate strands, lines that echoed in my memory, becoming even more tangled, crying for help as the shadow of the spider moved.  And yet, above, its fellow butterflies flew and dances and darted, heedless of its mortal danger, ignoring its cries and pleads of, “Help me, help me, help me.”

And then the predator leapt up it. 

‹Ah!›

I gave a jerk when something touched my side, danced away a few steps even when my tail moved.  But though my though my mind was still sleepy, the part of it that was alert even as I slept, that took in what my stalk eyes had seen and saw her, realized she was no danger, stayed my tail within a few inches and I comprehended Matilda standing there in the dark.  She also had moved back in surprise, but there was no fear on her face, no realization that I might have harmed her.  Instead, she brought her finger to her lips and _shushed_ me like an errant child! 

“Quiet!  Do you want to wake everyone?” she whispered.

‹Do you realize I could have harmed you?› I countered sharply.  ‹You should not startle an Andalite awake!›

She gave me a look, hands on her hips.  “Elfangor, your eye looked directly at me,” she said, pointing at the stalk nearest her.  “You knew I was here the whole time.”

‹Just because I saw you when I was asleep does not mean I comprehended you.›

“Am I bleeding?  Am I missing my head?  No. Obviously, I’m fine.  You’re not going to hurt me, Elfangor,” she said.  “And where were you?”

‹I went for a run,› I said testily, not liking her tone.  It was like she thought I was one of the children, as if I had a curfew or other similar limitations.  ‹And then I went to the King’s.  They convinced me to stay for supper.  Champ says hello.›

For a second, her face softened at the mention of her pet, and I thought she almost asked how he was, but she didn’t.  “You can’t just run off like that!  I mean, jeez.  Do you know what time it is?”

‹In which time zone?› I sniped.  It was almost morning, there was pre-dawn light starting to lighten the horizon.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

‹Then do not treat me like one of the children.›

“Stop acting like one of them and I will.”

Struggling to control myself, I asked in an even voice, ‹Why are you upset?›

“Because I’m sick of cleaning up the messes you keep making!  Do you _know_ what I had to deal with after you ran off to go have dinner with the Chee and played with Champ?  Lord knows I would have rather done that than deal with this crap you keep making me deal with.”

‹And what is this alleged “crap” I have made?›

“Don’t be stupid with me, Elfangor,” she snapped.

‹First you tell me not to be smart, now you tell me I cannot be stupid.  How _shall_ I be?›

She made a frustrated sound.  “God, why did I think you could take this seriously?  This is all some big joke to you, isn’t it?”

It was more a cosmic joke on me, with the whole universe laughing at me.  I had no idea what she was talking about, and I doubted she’d realize the fact. Yet I did not feel generous enough to inform her of that.  ‹Can’t you hear me laugh?› I asked.

Glaring at me, she took a deep breath before starting again.  “Elfangor, next time you decide to go off running, I would appreciate being told in person and for you to come back at a reasonable time.”

‹I did return at a reasonable time,› I countered.

“You were gone over eight hours!”

‹Only five or perhaps six.  And where I go or how long I am there is none of your concern.›

“Yes, it is!  We’re supposed to be working together!  We can’t have you gallivanting off who knows where!  What if something happened?  And then you go and make _us_ deal with those brats because you just don’t want to deal with it!”

‹Didn’t want to deal with it?!› I repeated, incredulous.  ‹That is all I have been doing!›

“Oh, I can tell.  I mean, you were there when I was being screamed in the face by five high school seniors, or when I had to break up three fights Rachel got herself in, or how about when Eva started her rapid-fire cussing, or even when I had to talk Ax out from severely wounding half of them!  Yeah, you were totally there,” she said, sarcastic.  “I am the only one keeping any kind of head with this!  While you’re off playing with the dogs, I’m forced to babysit everyone in the frigging camp!  Peter doesn’t know half of anything that’s going on out there and won’t get involved, and Eva is too busy telling everyone they don’t know anything.  I need a little support here!”

‹Do you think you are the only one?› I snapped back.  ‹Do you think those humans will listen to me any more than the children?  Do you think they will enjoy being ordered around by an alien, that I will endear myself in any fashion or garner any loyalty?  You were the one who brought them here, they are your responsibility!›

“You can’t be fucking serious!” she hissed.  “Because I’m the _human_ I have to deal with them?”

‹Because I’m the alien, I cannot!› I said back.

“Bull!  You led the kids, you led me and Eva.”

‹The children accept me as a leader!  Those humans will _not_!  And I cannot make them by fear or intimidation.›  I gave a deep exhale.  ‹They will not follow an alien, not enough of them.  They need a human.›

“Ah, and so that makes me it, doesn’t it?”

‹War is not fair.›  Looking at her, I could see the weariness on her and felt pity edging away my anger.  ‹I thought Eva was … more in charge of them.›

Matilda snorted.  “Oh, they listen to her.  Eva will tell them all about the horrors and evilness of the Yeerks, how we have to destroy them.  And then she’ll start criticizing them and every other alien species, Hork-Bajir and Andalites included, which just makes _me_ have to deal them when they get in the Hork-Bajirs’ faces because if I don’t, Toby will.  So I’m stuck mediating fights between species, between grades in high school, because, oh my God seniors cannot mingle with freshmen, and then I have to deal with their complaints, because I’m the one who apparently is the only one who can deal with them.  Lord knows Eva just sends them my way, because they’re too petty for _her_ to deal with.  We need more food, more clothes, I miss my parents, they’re calling me names, can’t we just go to the movies, how come Marco gets cable and we don’t, we need tampons, no we need pads, Josh was hitting on my sister so I had to punch him, how am I supposed to go to college if I can’t even leave this forest, can we get some fricking two-ply toilet paper!”

I blinked at her.  ‹I see.›

“No, you don’t!” she continued, poking me hard in the chest.  “Every single day, I have to deal with them, alone.  The _kids_ weren’t this impossible, and they were little snots at times!  But these guys, I’m not their mother, teacher, or even priest.  They don’t _have_ to listen to me, to anyone as far as they’re concerned.  It may be awful, but I would appreciate it if someone could beat the little shits down for me, and I would appreciate a little help every once in a while!  I don’t care if the only way you get them to behave is to scare the shit out of them, do it!  They’re getting out of control!”

Part of me wanted to say they couldn’t be any more out of control than the children, but I stopped myself.  Even though there were only eight additional campers, all were older than the children.  Some were even coming on to adulthood and the independence.  They had different temperaments, different expectations.  ‹Very well.  I will speak with them tomorrow and take a more active role, if you like.›

“Yes, I would,” she said tightly.  “And I would like it if you would also knock Eva off her high horse.  Just because I wasn’t a host to some Visser doesn’t mean I’m completely useless or has to be the one to deal with everything.  And you can tell Peter to step up and grow a pair.”

‹I doubt I can force him to alter his anatomy, but I will attempt to alleviate some of your burden.  You could have mentioned this earlier,› I added, only a little reproachful.

She gave me the foulest glare.  “Maybe if you were around I could have.”

‹Because I was not here _yesterday_ does not mean I am not often here,› I argued, fur bristling. 

She didn’t respond to that, because there was no argument.  Instead, she looked at me with a judging expression.

Deciding to give myself some excuse for my absence, I said, ‹I went to the Chee yesterday to turn six Yeerks into _nothlits_ , into dogs.  I had not planned to, I admit it, but it is what I was doing.›

“Oh.”

‹The Chee have already found them homes.  They will be sent there by the week’s end,› I continued.  ‹So there are fifty-three more Yeerks left.›

“What is going to happen to you when the Andalites find out?”

I gave a crooked smile.  ‹I have already told you the punishments that await me when my people arrive.  They have merely escalated.  If I am not put to death, I will be forced to lose my tail and be sent away in seclusion.  Added to that, there will be my prison sentence from over fifty charges of breaking _Seerow’s Kindness_ and possibly for my acts of disrespect to my superiors.  My name will become synonymous for disgraced.  And I have not even mentioned what my parents or Aximili will suffer because of my actions, which is even worse.  I can accept my punishments; I have made and deserve them.  But they are innocent of everything, and yet will have to bear the taint of my disgrace,› I finished quietly. 

“I’m sorry.  It’s my fault too that’s going to happen to you, since you gave me the morphing ability.”

‹Do not be,› I said quickly, sincerely.  ‹I have no regrets in my actions, and dare I say there are some humans I would have risked the troubles in giving the Gift to even if there had been no excuse.›

She smiled at me for a moment.  “You’re still not off the hook for disappearing.”

‹I would not expect to be, I think.  I would like to add, however, that my last statement does not refer to my next.›

“Now I’m worried.”

‹You should be.›  Given the difficulties the campers were giving her now, I did not think it would improve her situation.  ‹I have decided, if they are amendable, to give the humans the ability to morph.›

Silence met my words.

‹I spoke with Toby Hamee and she supported the plan and said she believed the children, Eva, and yourself were for it as well.›

“Well, I’m glad you asked _me_.”

Surprised at her tone, I gave her a wary look.  ‹I was under the impression you favored the plan.›

“Yeah, I really want to deal with that lot when they can _morph_.  I’m already worried one of them is going to take a swing at me.”

My stalks rose.  ‹One of them would harm you?› I said, voice low.

She gave a little laugh.  “Well, probably not,” she allowed, lighter, “but things have gotten heated a few times.”

‹You should have told me if you felt fear.›

“Elfangor, half of them are afraid Eva’s going to slug them.”

‹That is different.›

“How?”

‹It just is.›

“No, it isn’t.  And I really don’t think you _should_ give those snots the power.”

‹You do not?›

“No.  It’s petty, but they don’t deserve it.”

‹Very few do, I think.›

“And them, less.”

After hearing her report, I was inclined to agree.  ‹I do not have to give it to them.  I merely said I would, if I had to.›

She sighed and scuffed her feet.  “I don’t think this is the time to be childish.  We need all the help we can get.”

‹That does assume they will be helpful.  Perhaps that is a dangerous assumption.›

Matilda covered her mouth to hide her smile.  “Assumption?  You’re being nice.”

‹I am very sure I am never nice.›

“Really?”

‹Indeed.›

“What are you thinking?” she asked suspiciously.

‹Only that I will give the Gift after a certain … time has passed, which they might consider me making their lives miserable during this time.  A short-term childishness, call it.  In that time, perhaps they will have earned the right by a biased outsider.›

“What are you saying?”

I grinned.  ‹I am saying if they wish the Gift, they must get your approval to do so.›

“My approval?  Why mine?  You’re the one going to make them miserable!”

‹Revenge, for if even half of what you said true, they should be punished for their disrespect.  And I meant what I said – I cannot lead those humans.  I can make them miserable, I can act as enforcer, but they need a human they will obey.  And if it will not be Eva, it must be you.  And I apologize for the fact.›

“Not as much as they’re going to,” she said.  “Though I don’t think they will listen to me after they can morph, you do know that, right?”

‹Do leave that to me.  Perhaps it is time I become a bit more interested and involved in my fellow warrior’s … _arisths_.›

“ _Arisths_?” she repeated.

‹Yes, I know, they do not deserve the title, but I do not know another term I could have used.›

“Pledges?  This could be like hazing.  Though that isn’t a nice thing to put someone through.”  For something that wasn’t nice, she was grinning most devilishly.

‹Indeed.  And if they are going to be warriors, it is time they start acting like it.›  I looked at the brightening sky.  In the trees, the Hork-Bajir were already awake.

“What?  What are you thinking about?”

I ignored her, going to the cabins.  I opened the door and looking in silently, smiling at the sleeping figures.  Ahh, it had been a time since I had put fresh _arisths_ through their paces.  I might enjoy this too much. 

‹ ** _AWAKEN AND LINE UP OUTSIDE IMMEDIATELY!_** ›

There were jumping and yelling humans in the cabin, and I could even hear sounds in the next cabin.  The humans, tangled in their blankets, stared at me blearily. 

‹ ** _DID YOU NOT HEAR ME!  LINE OUTSIDE IMMEDIATELY!  MOVE, NOW!_** ›

In their fear and terror, they managed to stagger out.  My eyes saw Marco fall out of his own tent and rush to me.  “Are the Yeerks attacking?!  What’s going on, where?  What?”  His parents were not far behind, and the Hork-Bajir were frozen, watching us with curious expressions.  Toby Hamee, however, was amused, and Matilda was trying to control her laughter, but it was still coming in snorts.

‹The Yeerks are not attacking.  I have determined I will give the Gift to the humans.›  My stalked in front of them, giving the full aura of a commanding Prince to the worst field trainers the Academy could offer.

He looked at me, not comprehending the statement, and the other humans were looking at me with eyes wide.

‹That is, if they earn it.›  I looked at the humans and grinned the death grin, inwardly pleased to see all of them instinctively move back. 

Matilda was still laughing when I told Marco he could go back to bed. 

“Yeah, okay, I will if you could drop the dial down from eleven, Lieutenant Harris.”

‹Marco …,› I said warningly.  This was not the time to talk sass.

He saluted.  “Sir, yes, Sir!  Back to bed, Sir!”  His about-face was perfect, as was his march, but he was slouching and his shoulders were quaking with barely suppressed laughter.  Eva and Peter followed, casting a few looks over their shoulders at me.

Looking back at the eight humans, I said in a clipped fashion.  ‹If you wish the Gift, you will prove yourselves worthy.  You will train, you will learn, you will be _polite and respectful_!  Do I make myself clear, Mr. Barrows?”

The teenaged Paul, who had been about to protest in his usual fashion, almost lost his balance when I leaned into his personal space so far my breath made his hair shift.  Michael and Lewis caught him before he hit the ground.

‹Welcome to Andalite Boot Camp.  Hell is one level above us.  I do hope you enjoy yourselves.›

Turning my face, I winked at Matilda, and she nodded with approval and gave me a discrete thumbs up.

 ****


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Real You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 49

‹How does a Prince find such demeaning tasks when there is apparently nothing?  Shall it be that one day I will be allowed access to a hidden data file?› Aximili asked, appearing utterly serious.

‹There is a select knowledge, I admit, passed down from Prince to Prince, from those who believe to give as good as they got,› I replied, also not letting my countenance relax.

‹You were forced to gather the material for fertilizer and then dig new facilities as an _aristh_?›

No, thankfully.  ‹Sometimes a Prince must also be creative.  And it needed to be done in any case, and Toby Hamee could not afford to spare her people.›

My brother did not point out my falsehood or that any Hork-Bajir could have finished the task in a few hours and would have done it wouldn’t complaining.  Or the fighting.  Marco made the comment to Jake and Tobias that he would have stayed to watch but the smell got to him, and Rachel told him he was disgusting.

‹I dare not imagine what they will have to do next.›

‹Bathe,› I said dryly.  ‹And after that … we shall see.›

‹They have displeased you, haven’t they,› Aximili commented.

I would not deny it.  ‹And it has come to my attention that my … involvement might temper their behaviors.  My understanding is that there is some friction between them and the adults, which cannot be permitted to continue.› 

It was not too difficult to read my brother’s face to see that, in his opinion, it was about time, yet he retained his respect.  When we first had come to this world, when he had still been more child than _aristh,_ maybe he would have spoken.  (Yet, if this was the case, had I lost the free fraternal conversations we had?)  It did not come to me often, but now I recognized the changes in him, in his manner and his appearance.  Since we had been on Earth, he had grown several inches, his blade was longer and becoming broader, and his coat was finally losing the last of the childhood fluff.  He still had some time before he would be a true adult, but it was clear he was nearer to his future than his past.

The same held for the children.  Even if I did not completely recognize all of the differences or the signs, instinctively I could tell.  They also had grown (some more than others) and changed in appearance, took part in rituals human adults did.  In a few short years, they would be considered adults, free beings.

With this war, they had always been mature.  Sometimes – often – they were also stupid, but their maturity, in the essentials, had been forced to expand when they first met me in that construction site these years ago.  In their minds, they had always been adults; their bodies were finally catching up.

In contrast, there were _these_ humans.  While I would never _kill_ them – at least not beyond dreaming – I had quickly changed their opinions that I would not _harm_ them.  And I would also not accept the same tones and manners than had been using with the others, human or Hork-Bajir.  As Paul and Travis might have matching scars and Carlie nursed a large bruise, they soon learned I was serious.

If I made them hate me, I did not care.  I was not a friendly neighborhood alien, and we were not fighting other friendly neighborhood ones.  Though we were fighting alongside ones.

Besides, it would give them something to bond over, to pull together into a cohesive unit.

‹Cassie says she has gotten all of the DNA samples for the birds, and she took the initiative to take some larger forms from the Gardens should these humans need them,› Aximili commented.  ‹She told Jake she would take them to the Chee, because she was not sure how she could keep it viable without her parents becoming curious.›

‹Very well.  Do not think I cannot see you not working, Ms. Quenton!›  Young Lindsay made a very rude gesture at me, but she did continue shoveling with much muttering under her breath.  I gave her that, even if it did put my hearing capabilities to question.

‹The others said if you needed, they would give their DNA to the Yeerks as well,› Aximili continued, ‹though I daresay the Chee will get enough samples.›

It was their way to show they supported me, without actually saying it.  ‹No doubt, but if they wish it, they may.›

He nodded. ‹And we know Erek told you the Sharing does this blood gathering annually, but Jake is concerned.›

This caught my attention, and I turned my main eyes to him instead of a stalk.  ‹He is?›

Aximili gave me an equal attention.  ‹It is not that he doubts the Chee, but he said his brother has been very eager for their whole family to donate blood.  He has not been like that in the past.›

‹Why didn’t Jake tell me this in person?›  Indeed, I could see him with the other males relaxing.  They were amusing Hork-Bajir little ones with balloons, which made the former shriek at the latter’s short lifespan.

My brother spoke, ‹It was only this morning over breakfast that Tom pressed the issue enough for Jake to become worried.  Jake planned to tell you in person today, but with your new … pastime,› here, my brother smiled, ‹I volunteered to tell you.›

‹And how does my pastime preclude him from being able to speak to me?›

‹It does not.  However, Marco said two Andalites speaking privately scares the wizz out of humans more than a human and an Andalite.  And they cannot eavesdrop on us.›

I laughed quietly to the reasons.  So that was why my brother was being so proper, to terrorize the humans.  But yes, it probably was best.  These humans did not have to know about a possible situation, because if Tom, a relatively high-ranking Yeerk, was pressuring his family to give blood, there was a good chance the Yeerks _were_ up to something.  The thought stopped my laughter.  ‹Of all the damnation,› I muttered.  ‹Why would he be pressuring his parents?›

‹Jake said not to worry about them donating.  His mother said she cannot give blood – she is anemic – and his father does not give blood, because even though he is a doctor, he does not like needles.›

‹But there is still his brother,› I reminded grimly.  ‹There is still that connection.  But I cannot think how they could use it.›  That puzzle worried me, and I tried to work through it.

‹Elfangor, you are scaring the humans,› Aximili said after a few minutes, very amused.  Coming to myself, I realized I had straightened and was twitching my tail.  Another Andalite or even the children would have seen it as nothing more than how a human might twirl a hair strand, but these humans were watching me from over their shoulders.

‹Good.  They should be scared of me.›

‹So long as they respect you,› my brother added, completing the phrase.

‹Exactly.›

‹And this will make them respect you?›

‹It will make the respect what I can do to them if they disobey me,› I said.  ‹And I will not fool myself.  They know I will not truly harm them in any of this.  If they refuse my tasks, I will refuse to give the Gift.  They are willingly putting themselves through this, knowing they must gain my respect as well.›

‹Or merely put up with you until you are satisfied.  Though, if that is their goal, they will be putting up with you for some time.›

I grinned.  ‹Indeed.  You will learn, Aximili, that everything is merely a battle of wills.  Those under you will push your tail until you push back.  It is true for nearly all species.  The humans now know my tail is spring-loaded.›

‹I am glad to hear it.  I feared it had grown rusty,› he replied impertinently.  ‹Perhaps it has.›

And here I had worried about losing our freer brotherly communications. What had I been thinking when I thought I would miss it?   ‹Do not make me think you need the additional practice.›

‹Maybe it is _you_ who needs the practice, brother.›  And before I could reprimand him as an elder brother should, even if such behavior shouldn’t be shown in front of these humans, he trotted off, far too smug in the eye he kept on me.

‹This means war, little brother,› I mused, focusing back on the humans, though inwardly I started to process the interest Tom was showing in this blood drive.

Fool.  Wasn’t it I who said the Chee didn’t know everything, that just because they thought things were not of any importance did not mean it was so?  And here I was, making the same mistake!  Foolish idiot!

How could the Yeerks be using this blood drive?  (If they even were at all, because there still could be some very innocent reason for Tom’s eagerness, even if I could not think of one.)  Could they use it to find the humans?

… It would be possible, but it would be so very costly and difficult.  In sample taken from when one is in morph, the amount of true DNA stored in the _quallivans_ was so small, and there were relatively few of them.  But yet, they were there.  If the technology was there to separate the _quallivans_ , if they could get enough to do a decent polymerase chain reaction and then analyze the DNA ….

Did that mean the Yeerks suspected they were humans?

Well, they knew of Eva and Matilda, surely.  Eva had not kept her identity hidden very well, and I did not think Visser One would hesitate to think I wouldn’t give it to the latter.  It would not have been much of a stretch to think I could have given it to other humans.  But as to the children …. No, unlikely.  Children their age could not give blood, there would be no risk of a direct match and they would never think I would recruit human children.  This was meant to find adults.  But the risk was still there, a partial match was possible.  Depending on how the technology was set up, the children could be targeted if one of their parents’ siblings donated.

Was I getting ahead of myself?  Was I thinking worst-case scenario?  (And yet, how often was it _not_ the worst-case scenario?)  There were still other things the Yeerks would have to do.  The fact that there were so few _quallivans_ that held the true DNA in a morphed form was a large obstacle.  If they could even get samples from us, it would be very unlikely they could even detect what they wanted.   They had no idea how to find _quallivans_ in a sample, what to even look for.  The Yeerks had never gotten that information, the science Prince Alloran would never have learned or studied.  That was a reassurance, wasn’t it?

Even with such a thought, I could not stop the trickle of trepidation run down my spine.  An old Prince of mine’s favorite saying was, ‹It always ends with blood.›  It was his life philosophy.  In peace talks, in war, in politics, in life and its choices, the answer always ended with blood to him.  Depending of the situation, he might add, ‹Make sure it is not your own,› or perhaps, ‹Choose yours.›  Once it had even been, ‹But that is how little ones are.  You just have to put them on opposite ends of the fields for a bit after you patch up the worst of it.›

He would not have been surprised that our relative safety ended because of a human blood drive.  To him, it would have been prophetic.  ‹It always ends with blood.›

 ****

I watched the small hummingbird fly off into the floral gardens with the other jeweled birds and butterflies, smiling at the quiet laughter from the former Yeerk.   When he hadn’t been in the flowers, he had sat on my shoulder or flitted around my head for the past hour when telling me his life story and poking me with his beak when he thought I wasn’t paying enough attention (or just to poke me).  While I did not particularly enjoy hearing about his first host, he was smart enough to leave out his battles.  He claimed he was one of those Yeerks who considered himself forcefully conscripted into the war, so perhaps he did not enjoy remembering them.  And he was a decent story-teller, I could not deny that of former Cappa Seven-Two-Nine. 

Relieving sixteen Yeerks to the skies had been no easy task.  A Yeerk acquiring a sample from blood was difficult but manageable, but having _several_ use the same sample created problems.  The blood would stick to each of the acquirers, dwindling the supply with each turn.  Cassie had understandably not gotten very large samples of blood, and it was hard to work around it.  Several Yeerks had been asked to either compromise or wait until I could get more.  All chose not to wait, deciding that it was better to be a smaller hawk or falcon rather than an impressive eagle.  I hoped they would not regret their choice, and not because if they did it meant they might blame me.

I had been unsure about releasing the Yeerk who desired to be a hummingbird simply out in the wild.  It is such a small bird, could he survive?  The Chee, when I spoke of my worry, recommended these gardens and I made the trip, even though it was a drive of several cities away. 

The gardens were beautiful, and even if the trip was needless, it was not made in waste.  Flowers of every sort were starting to bloom around me, a horticultural masterpiece.  There were fields of nature’s artwork.  The human attempt was not equal to what Andalites could have done, true, but it was still beautiful.

I believe the former Yeerk saw that too.

Lingering only a little at the gate, breathing in the trace fragrance of flowers, I made it to vehicle I borrowed from one of the Chee.  Considering the cargo, the _Escafil_ device hidden only under the front seat, I will admit I irresponsible in not locking the vehicle.  Still, I doubted few humans planned on stealing a Pinto from the seventies, where the interior was more the color of dog fur than its manufacturer’s original choice and dog toys were tucked in strange locations.  It was after several chews that I realized the cookies I had discovered were in fact _not_ cookies, or at least ones made for humans.  The bone shape should have made me realize, but I was distracted and thought the Chee had made them special for me.

Even after my realization, I ate all of the treats anyway.  (They did not taste bad, only a little dry with a strange aftertaste.)  I _could_ be a dog, ergo it meant they could have been meant for me.  It was the logic I told myself, and the Chee wouldn’t question their disappearance anyway.

The radio was up as loud as it could go – which, given this car’s age, was not very much, and with the windows open I needed it up so high to even hear the words – I relaxed in the release driving could bring, even if it was in this Pinto.  The Chee would be grateful the vehicle could not reach the truly relaxing speeds of other cars, because I did not monitor my speed.  My thoughts ran through the details.  Approximately a third of the Yeerk prisoners were dealt with, the birds released in locations which were a distance from the Valley.  I would not pretend they could _never_ find the Valley, but even if they returned to the Pool and former compatriots, they were birds.  Ultimately, they were Taxxon food or target practice on the firing range, and they knew it.

And if they did betray us … I do not know what … I do not know.

The Sharing interest in the blood drive struck me next.  The children, unable to legally donate, were safe from a direct connection.  They were also probably safe from an indirect one, I decided (not hoped, decided).  Unless the Yeerks had managed to separate out the acquired DNA from minute traces of true DNA, there was little worry.  I was not very familiar with the ways DNA strands from different species could be separated out, but surely the Yeerks or humans did not have something sensitive enough!  Surely.  And where could they get samples? 

From blood we left behind, perhaps.  Yet if securing one strand of DNA from two was difficult, doing it from several would be nearly impossible.  And the likelihood of the _quallivans_ – if they were even in the sample – still being viable was even less likely.  They degraded within a few hours.  The Yeerks would have had to get our lost blood, get it to a lab, do the necessary purifications, and isolate the vesicles in such a short time it would be impossible for Yeerks to do!  They simply did not have the proper technology. 

Therefore, the children were safe.  While the Yeerks perhaps thought some of my warriors were humans, they were shooting blindly in the dark.  They hoped that by doing a large, random sampling when they could easily get to a lab, they’d get lucky to find a human with traces of animal DNA, as if any of them would be foolish enough to do so!  It would be just like Yeerks, to create such a weak plan.

I spent the remainder of the drive focusing on the campers.  Aximili had not been wrong when he wondered how a Prince could think of tasks to put troublemakers to.  Even on a ship, sometimes a Prince had to be creative, because there were only so many ships to polish and hulls to reseal.  It was sometimes just simpler to strain yourself in a rigorous three-hour training exercise, kill the _aristh_ during it, and then send him limping, sweating, gasping, and bleeding to the doctors to recover.  And the next day – if the _aristh_ got a few good hits or actually exhausted his Prince during the “training” – you made _sure_ not to limp or show _you_ were in any pain while you screamed at him to straighten up – but nicer than normal, because there was no reason to be completely cruel – and run five laps around the Dome.

It was very unlikely I was going to be able to make the humans run a fifteen-mile hike in the woods. 

Stopping only a Burger King to refresh my time and get some food for thought, I spent the rest of the drive trying to think of things for the humans to do.  By the time I reached the Chee residence, returned the car with thanks, and disappeared into the woods for the Valley, I had woefully decided my creativity was not as vast as I hoped.  Perhaps Toby Hamee or the other humans could think of tasks for the campers to do.

By the time I made it to the edge of the Valley, it was turning to mid-afternoon.  The Hork-Bajir in the trees waved to me in such a fashion that I was compelled to wave back.  Once past the initial screen of trees, I saw the group of humans.  All of them, and none looked too pleased.  Internally I winced, hoping vainly that there had been no more fights between the factions, but made my way over. 

“Andalite, you got to start making sure we can get in contact with you when you disappear,” Eva scowled.

‹What has happened?›

“Some people broke into my mom’s lab,” Cassie said.  “At first I thought Mom –”

“They took blood samples from any animals we use to fight with,” Eva interrupted.  If anyone noticed how my stalks rose in surprise, they said nothing, and Eva did not give me a chance to speak.  “First this blood drive, now these samples.  They know.”

‹They theorize,› I corrected, but even I could not get much spirit into the protest. 

“Does that matter?” Paul demanded.  “Even if they know nothing, you’re going to let _them_ lead normal lives and risk everything if the Yeerks _do_ have something?  Sir,” he added sarcastically when I narrowed an eye at him.

“He’s right, Elfangor.  They have to come here now,” Eva said, arms crossed.

“And that would just prove to them we are humans, if we disappear,” Rachel countered.

“It’s a pre-emptive strike.  They already know, they just don’t have proof,” Eva said.  “Even Edriss thought the bandits might be humans and would have proved it just to destroy Visser Three, but you were doing a good enough job on your own she didn’t bother.  Better they know _now_ then have them surprise us later when we’re not ready.”

“We already sent Marco and Ax to try and find the facility they have all the data in.  Michael and Vicky are helping them with the spare laptops, and Peter went to babysit,” Matilda added.  “Though he probably just wants a chance to play on Ax’s computer.”

“Maybe once they figure out where the Yeerks are doing this we could break into the place and see what they know,” Jake suggested.

‹NO!› I countered before I had a chance to stop and monitor my tone.  The humans looked at me in surprise.  ‹No,› I repeated, calmer.  ‹It will be guarded, and I fear guarded well.  The last thing we want to do is to give Yeerks fresh blood samples from you in your battle forms.›

“Why?” Rachel demanded.  “We catch them off guard, we can destroy their computers.”

Emily scoffed.  “Yeah, that’ll make ‘em think they aren’t dealing with humans.”

‹And it does not matter.  If we destroyed one set of data, another would be set up, and other,› I said, snapping my tail.  ‹Blasted Yeerks.  Whose technology did they steal that could work fast enough?› I muttered.

“Can’t handle that mighty Andalite technology ain’t so great?” Eva said snidely.

“Eva,” Matilda muttered.  “Not now.”

“We have to do something.  The longer we wait, the more danger we’re in.  And our families,” Cassie said.

“Oh, _your_ families matter,” Travis snapped.  “Unlike ours.”

‹Silence!  I will not deal with this repeated argument!› I growled, turning sharp. 

“Why shouldn’t you?” Paul demanded.  “Just because you _like_ them, their lives mean more.  You bend over backwards to baby them, but us!  We’re the ones doing all the work here!”

There was a chorus of agreement and disagreements from the appropriate sides, and I saw Matilda give me a look.  It was clear she did not plan to jump into the line of fire and expected me to deal with it post-haste.  At least I agreed with the latter.

‹That is enough!  For your information, all of you, I have asked the Chee to look into the status of your family members,› I said, looking at the campers.

“And?” Lewis asked.

‹They have yet finished,› I informed, but then decided to share the good reports that they did have.  ‹They are aware that, as of this morning, Mrs. Robertson is not a Controller, and neither are Mr. and Mrs. Donnovin.›

“That’s Vicky and Michael, what about the rest of us?” Travis demanded. 

“His parents are okay.  What about Michael’s sister?” Paul asked, voice quiet.

I was surprised he, of all the humans, asked.  While I would not deny he cared for his fellow humans, to my experience he was more interested in fighting to avenge his family’s death.  At his question, I was forced with the uncomfortable choice to be brutally honest or to give momentary kindness and protection, which was so short in this war.  But no, I would not treat them like little ones; that would be a greater disrespect to them, those who would soon be fighting alongside me, so I spoke gently, “She is one.  As are your two sisters,” I said apologetically to Carlie.

The girl blinked and then denied it more vehemently than I thought her capable of.  “You’re lying!  You just don’t want to get them!” she snapped.  “They aren’t even part of the Sharing.  Neither is Jessica!  Not that the Sharing is bad!  Michael and Vicky did stuff with them!”

‹They have been seen in the Pool.›  I would not tell them which side of the cages they were seen on, or why, Erek said, they had been taken as hosts.  They could not be rescued.

“We have to save them!” Carlie said, jumping up.  From a human who hadn’t even mentioned her family prior to this, it was a change.  “They can’t have my sisters.”

‹I am sorry.›

She kept denying it until she was crying.  When Matilda went to her, she pushed her away, but eventually Matilda led her away.

‹Anyone can be a Controller,› I reminded needlessly, trying not to sound heartless.

“Someone’s got to tell Michael,” Emily muttered.

“I will,” Paul said.  “Jessica and … and Becca were friends.” Becca – Rebecca – had been his sister, lost in the battle for the Valley.  “I’ll do it.  But why, why would they want some fifth-grader?”

“They could be trying to get his parents,” Cassie said.  “There was Karen.  They used her to get to her dad, and she was only five or six.”

“Michael’s parents don’t _do_ anything,” Paul protested.  “His mom’s a cook and his dad fixes cars!”

“Maybe they wanted Michael,” Tobias offered.  “He’s a decent hack, Marco said.”

Eva nodded.  “Yes, that’s true.  Peter even said something about him being good with setting up the TVs.”

The campers looked sick.  “Michael?” Lindsay said.  “You’re kidding me.  He’s a dork.  I mean, you’ve seen him.  He speaks Klingon!”

“So do half of you,” Rachel reminded, rolling her eyes. 

‹He is a Senior, soon to graduate.  I assume he has enrolled in a college.  He does not have to be important by himself.  The Yeerks use other humans to get to their targets.  And this is only theory.  Michael may never have been a target, his sister may have been taken because was in the wrong place at the wrong time,› I said, offering an excuse.

“What are we going to do, Elfangor?” Jake asked.  Hearing some of the other humans were in a similar familial situation to his had not done him any good.  In fact, it made him look worse.  “I know … I know we can’t save Tom, can we, but my parents …”

“If we save our families, we’ll be taking away their lives, just like what we did to you,” Cassie pointed out, looking at the campers.

“They kept their lives,” Eva said.  “Nothing else matters.  In five years, if things go like they have, two years if things get worse, Earth will be lost, despite Andalite grandeur and proclamations.”  She ignored my scowl.  “Better they deal with it now than be forced to then.”

‹If we do this, we do this fast and hard,› I said, before looking at Jake.  ‹You know your parents are the greatest risk.  We get them first, before there is a chance we lose them.›

He nodded and looked down.  I think he did not want me to see the relief in his eyes, if they were tears or a great weight off his shoulders.  He didn’t even ask about his brother.  I knew what that cost him, knew how I could feel if roles were reversed, how I would feel if I could save my parents but not Aximili.  Deep inside, there was the twisting feeling of betrayal one of the deepest bonds.

“We’ll leave Tom.”

“Why?” Travis demanded.  “Why can’t we just take him, starve the Yeerk out or let him become another animal?  We could do it!”

Yes, we could.  But yet Tom had his uses and his dangers.

“We take Tom, we lose an advantage,” Eva said bluntly, speaking my thoughts for me, “while we gain a risk.  We have no idea how powerful his Yeerk is, how much work they will go into getting him back.  If Tom stays,” she looked at Jake, no apology on her face or words, but I knew she had it, “we know about him.  We can use him later.”

“If we can get to him,” Rachel reminded, angry at the treatment of her cousin.  “If Jake and his parents are gone, you think Tom is just going to be around for us to follow?  He’ll go into the Pool or the ship or something.  There’d be no reason to keep him on Earth.  This might be our only chance to get Tom!”

‹Yes, it might be,› I agreed, looking at Jake.  ‹If he is there, we will have to take him.  But we cannot look for him.›

“I know, I understand.  And we’ll save him.  We will.” 

“Yes, we will,” Cassie whispered, taking his hand.  Rachel still was furious, but she didn’t speak anymore.  Some of the campers looked sick, and someone muttered, “Cold,” but was shushed.  I couldn’t tell who spoke, but I saw Jake flinch.

“And what is our plan?” Eva demanded.  “We have to hit four houses.”

“We can do my uncle last,” Tobias said, giving a crooked deprecating smile.  “I think he’d be low priority anyway.  When Tom learns his parents and Jake are gone, he’ll go to Rachel’s mom or Cassie’s folks.”

“My … my parents are close to the forest.  We could do them either way.  A fast get-away or a quick get,” Cassie said.  “But they aren’t going to be easy.”

“Your parents?”  Rachel laughed.  “Yeah, let me say this – Elfangor, you better just stun my mom.  She ain’t coming quietly.”

‹I expect nothing less from your mother.›

“Not to be a downer, but where are you going to _put_ everyone you plan on bringing?” Lindsay asked.  “Because _someone_ has this stupid boy-girl separation rule, as if we’re _kids_ , and –”

“Well, I guess that’s over, isn’t it!” Eva snapped.  “We’ll make room.  And we have enough tents.”

“And we can make more cabins,” Paul said.  “We’ll need to.”

“So we’re doing this.  When?” Eva asked, looking at Jake.

After taking a deep breath, he spoke evenly, “It’s Friday.  Tom will be out late.  He always is.  We have supper at six.  We can get them then.”

I nodded with approval before looking at Rachel.  ‹And your mother and sisters?›

“They’ll be home, I know that,” she said.

‹Cassie?›

She shrugged helplessly.  “They should be home, but Mom sometimes gets called into work.”

“We can get your dad and come back for your mom,” Eva said dismissively.  “And your uncle?”

“Passed out drunk in front of the TV, probably.”  His voice was purposefully blank, and he didn’t looked at anyone else beyond Eva.

‹Very well, we shall do this tonight in our window. You five, set up the extra tents and attempt to make more room in the cabins.  Make something to eat and rest, because it’s going to be a long night.  Cassie, Tobias, I would like you to tell Marco, Aximili, and the others our plans.  Marco and Aximili will meet us at Jake’s house.  Also, call the Kings and get a Chee to meet us there as well.›

“A Chee?” she repeated.

‹I feel we might need a hologram or two.  Just to be safe.›

“And what about us?” Rachel asked.

‹Go home and keep your families there.  Pack.›

“Bring decent food,” Travis muttered.

That got a few quiet laughs, and soon everyone started to dissipate.  The children left for home or comrades, while the campers went to the cabins.  Eva, arms crossed, sighed.  “This is going to be Hell.”

‹It has been so for some time, but yes, I agree.  I must speak with Toby Hamee about this, to warn her.›

Eva’s face shifted slightly, but she didn’t speak what was on her mind.  Instead, she asked, “Are you prepared for this?”

‹How do you mean?›

She barked a laugh.  “You’ve been dealing with Loren, Peter, and me.  I think we’re not the norm on how parents react when they learn you’ve been attempting to kill their kids.  They’re not going to be like Andalites, all proud and pleased it’s _you_.”

‹Whether or not they are displeased with me, they will be proud of everything their children have accomplished.›

After a high laughter, Eva grinned maliciously.  “Oh, I’m going to love tonight, I can tell.  Go tell the Hork-Bajir company’s coming for dinner.”

Curious at her prediction, I trotted to the Seer trying to determine it.  While I accepted I was going to be looked upon with disfavor, I did not see the humor or anticipation Eva did.  After waiting for Toby Hamee’s attention, I reported our plan.  There was a momentary scowl on her face – she received no pleasure in learning she had to house more humans without warning or permission – it was replaced with the diplomatic, “The Animorphs’ families are welcome here, of course.  We will need to build more cabins.”

‹Yes, most likely.  I apologize.›

She ignored my words.  “How many humans?”

“Jake’s parents, Cassie’s parents, Rachel’s mother and two sisters, and Tobias’ uncle, so eight.”

“Eventually, there will be more humans here than Hork-Bajir,” she said dryly.

‹Unfortunately.  The other humans will want to save their families as well.›

“Of course.  Family is very important,” she said, face blank to her true emotion.  “Please excuse me, I must tell my people to start to prepare for the arrival.”

I bowed my head and left her to her tasks before looking around.  Now there seemed to be nothing for me to do but wait.  Part of me missed the days when I had to do something because there was so few of us.  Sometimes I felt the worst sort of uselessness and I wandered across the Valley aimlessly.

When Matilda approached, I hoped it was not obvious that I was relieved for some distraction.  ‹How is Carlie?›

Her smile was forced.  “She’s calm now, trying to sleep in this noise.”

‹I had not thought she would have taken it so badly.  I should have told her in private.›

“It’s not your fault,” Matilda said, touching my shoulder.  “Carlie’s been … her family isn’t close.  She’s the baby of the family and her sisters are very successful, and her parents pressured her to be like them, I guess.  She was picking the wrong school and friends and … well, you get the point.”

‹I do not think her parents would approve of her sisters’ friends,› I said grimly, catching her eyes.

She did not understand immediately, but when her eyes widened and she gasped, Matilda turned to look at the tent Carlie must have been in.  “Are you sure?”

‹Erek was most direct on that information.  Her eldest sister, Kellie, is vice-president of a business.  When the Yeerks arrived, she was nothing.  She joined the Sharing when it was started, lured by the promises, and she welcomed the Yeerk for her own gain.  Her husband is also a Controller, also Voluntary.”

“Carlie said they weren’t members of the Sharing.”

‹They are not public members.  They are more like publicists, supporting it in other ways.  Her other sister, Jennie, is off Earth half of the time.  She is a liaison to other Yeerks.  Her cover as a foreign liaison is not completely false.›

There was a small smile at my attempt at a joke before Matilda looked down.  “How are we going to tell her that?”

‹I do not know.›  This was different than with Tom; he was a proven unwilling Controller.  Carlie’s sisters were Collaborators, joining for their own gain at the expense of millions of others.  How did you tell a child her sisters had betrayed their world and people?  There was no gentle way, no kind let-down.  It was going to be harsh and cold no matter what was said.

“She was crying that she had a huge fight with them before all of this.  They were telling her she was wasting her life, that they could help her go places if she just got her head on right.”  Matilda’s voice echoed the ironic truth in the report.  “Carlie thought … she thought if she disappeared for awhile, her parents would notice her.  It wasn’t a good plan, but you remember that age.”

My memories of that time of my life didn’t seem applicable to Carlie’s.  ‹I wish things could be different for her.›

“Me, too.”  She leaned against me.  “This is going to get worse, isn’t it?  I thought we were just being really cautious in keeping them here, not letting them go home.  But now ….  I’m glad Eva and you said no.  I would have let them go, ruined everything.”

‹If we had released them, little would have been ruined,› I said quietly, arm around her.  ‹They would not have known where we would have camped.›

“They would have known about the kids.”

‹Yes, that is true.  But perhaps they wouldn’t have been taken.›

“You, giving maybes?  Don’t try to spare me, Elfangor.  I would have put the kids in danger, just because … because I would have been nice.”

‹And I put them in danger by being cruel.  Either way, they will be in danger.›

“My way would have made more.”

Chuckling, I batted her high ponytail with my tail, making the short bit of hair twirl.  ‹Do not play such a competition on what is unknown.›

“You just don’t want to admit you’ll lose,” she said, looking up at me with her nose wrinkled in amusement.

‹You know me too well.›

“And God, that’s scary, isn’t it?”

‹Indeed.›

“I mean, jeez, if I can figure out an Andalite’s head, something’s just wrong with the Andalite.”

My tail caught her ponytail again, but only a little.  The blasted human ducked!

She tsked me, smile wide and sly, as she moved away.  “Something terribly wrong.”  And then she laughed.

‹You do not know me that well,› I said petulantly.

Matilda smiled, lips pressed together to keep her laughter.  “But what I do know, I _know_ , Elfangor.”

‹You only believe you do.›  Though she apparently knew enough that I could act like a child, and, even worse, _when_ I would.

She shrugged, unrepentant, before going towards the humans.  After only a few steps, she called back, “FYI, when you’re going to hit the back of my head, you put an eye on your tail to make sure you don’t remove it.”

I did not!  That was an _aristh’s_ mistake, thinking he had to watch his tail!  I did _not_ make such a mistake!  I was a veteran warrior and War-Prince, who had fought countless battles!  I did not watch my tail!

And then, to my ever-lasting shame and horror, I realized I _did_.  And a _human_ , with just _two eyes_ , noticed it!  I could not think any other thought for the next ten minutes, my embarrassment was so great.

‹Elfangor, you must rid yourself of this habit!› I hissed when I finally came to myself.  ‹You _must!_ ›  The only way I could think to do that was to practice batting humans upside the head.  And, I realized with some wickedness, I’d have to practice on the human who noticed.  My smile must have startled and worried more than a few, but when Matilda noticed, she stuck her tongue out at me.

It made the other humans laugh, even if it was unsteady and casting looked between us, for few humans dared to stick their tongues out at me, and even fewer would actually do so.

And there were even less I would allow to go unpunished.  She, who had just pointed about my carelessness and laughed at it, was not one of them and would not be so for some time.  At least not until I rid myself of this bad habit.

A Prince who had to watch him own tail!  I could never show my face if other warriors learned of such a failing.

 ****

Jake’s house was below us.  His parents were home.  Tom was not.  Erek was in the bushes, petting Homer and patiently waiting for us, and he saw and recognized us immediately.  When we landed – Cassie, Marco, Tobias, Eva, Matilda, Aximili, and myself – he covered us with a hologram.  Homer barked and jumped up, but Erek kept a good hold on him.

“They have just sat down to eat,” Erek said.

“If Steve and Jean haven’t changed, they’re going to think we’re surrounded by crazy people in leotards.  Crazy, _dead_ people,” Eva added, in reference to herself and son.

“They haven’t,” Marco said, petting Homer.

Ah, I had forgotten she would have a passing acquaintance to Jake’s parents because of the friendship between their sons.  ‹Perhaps then you should carry much of the conversation,› I said as I changed into my Alan Fangor form.  It was better if I was somewhat familiar, not alien.

“Of course!  You’d mess everything up, Andalite.”

“Should we knock?” Matilda asked.

Marco laughed.  “Jake’s expecting us.  I used to barge in here all the time.  It’ll be like ole times.”  He looked nostalgic.  “Those were the days.  Days when I had a life, wasn’t declared legally dead.  Visited wearing clothes and shoes.”

“Except when you threw them off and you both ran naked down the street for everyone to see,” his mother said as she opened the door, making Marco’s face flame an instant red.

Cassie and Tobias snorted, before Cassie whispered, “I thought you were supposed to be lethal topless, Marco?”

He, after sputtering, defended himself, “I was young.  I hadn’t come into my full powers.”

“Looks like you still haven’t,” Tobias said.

“Hey!”

“Shhhh,” I scolded.

“Tom?  Tom, is that you?” Jake’s mother called.  She must have heard the door shut, and Aximili looked apologetic when most of us looked back at him.  The smell of the lasagna had distracted him.  “Tom, come and eat.”

Marco took it upon himself to signify our arrival.  “It’s just me, Mrs. Berenson.  I just wanted to know if Jake could come out and play.  Mmm, this smells _good_.  Jake, dude, pass me everything,” he said as he sat at the table.

Jake’s parents froze, his father in mid-chew, staring at Marco as he casually helped himself.  Jake appeared to be trying not to laugh.

“Marco?  I thought ….” Mrs. Berenson touched his arm and then said, “Oh my god, you’re alive!  You’re alive!  Jake, it’s Marco!”

“Yeah, Mom, it is.”

“Where have you been?  Are you all right?  Where’s your father?  Marco, I can’t believe – Eva?” Her voice ended in even more quiet disbelief than when she had seen Marco.

“Hello, Jean.  Steve.  Long time no see.”

Mrs. Berenson, Jean, hands still on Marco, stood shakily.  “Is that really you?”

“Yes, it is.  Steve, swallow.”

Steve swallowed, and then jumped a good several inches when Aximili accidentally nudged him when he reached for some bread.  “W-what’s going on here?”

“What happened to you, Eva?” Jean said.  “The accident … you were lost at sea.  Peter, oh, God, Peter ….”

“Peter is fine, I’m fine.  You’re the ones who aren’t.”

“What?”

“Who are you?  You’re that weird kid, aren’t you?” Steve demanded of my brother, who looked like a chipmunk cross with his cheeks full of bread.  My brother was insulted at being considered the weird kid. “What’s his name?  Max?”

“Ax,” Jake said.  “And his real name is actually Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.”

Steve blinked and looked between them.  “I thought I had heard all of the strange names parents give their kids.”

“Actually, my brother’s name is very common,” I said, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.  “And we do not have much time.”

“Mr. Fangor?” Jean said.  “What are you doing here?  What are all of you doing here, and why are you dressed like that?”

“Jean, Steve, you’re in danger, and you have to come with us now,” Eva said firmly.

“Come with us if you want to live,” Marco intoned, then winced when Jake must have kicked him.

The Berenson couple stared at him, before asking, “What? Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll suffer a fate worse than death.  Earth is under invasion by the Yeerks.  Aliens.”

They did not believe.  No sane human would.  Steve, a doctor of children, was standing up.  “Eva, you’ve been gone a long time.  The accident – OH MY GOD!”

He had noticed me demorphing. 

“What the devil is that?!”

“Dad, Dad, it’s all right.  It’s just Elfangor.  He’s an Andalite.  He’s not going to hurt you.”

The adults had gone to the other side of the table, as far away from me as possible, and had dragged Jake with them.  They were trying to protect him. 

‹I will not harm you.  My name is War-Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul,› I said, bowing.  ‹It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance even in these times.›  My tail flicked, and the roll deflected.  ‹Please do not throw food at me.›

“Mom!  Dad!  He’s okay!”

“Get out of my house!”

“This is going well,” Marco commented to no one, while my brother sat at Steve’s seat and finished the plate.

“Steve, Jean!  Calm down!” Eva commanded.  “Elfangor, morph back, you’re just making things worse.  I _said_ I was going to handle this, you stupid Andalite.”

While I morphed, Eva very calmly explained everything in small, simple words.  She started with her own life, what had happened to her.  Then what had happened on Earth.  What was happening.  Jake’s parents stood in shock and I ate the roll that had been tossed at me, even though it had been on the floor.

“This is impossible, it’s crazy.  Eva, you have to go to a hospital.  And … and you too, Mr. Fangor.  You’re … you’re not well.”  I wondered at the logic.  Surely, shouldn’t they think what they had seen was impossible that they _they_ were the ill ones with such “hallucinations?”

“Mom, Dad, look at me.”  Once he had their attention, Jake’s face turned into the familiar stripes, ears perked, and fangs grew.  He didn’t go far, only enough to make his point, before changing back.

“What … Jacob Robert Berenson, how did you …?”

“It’s the morphing technology.  Elfangor gave it to me, to us, and we’ve been using it to fight the Yeerks.”

“This is crazy.  You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, we are.  Deadly, sometimes.  And if you don’t want to be dead, you’ll come with us,” Marco said.  “The Yeerks know we’re human, they’re going to find us and you.  And that’ll be game over.”

They didn’t believe us, and I frowned.  “We do not have time for this.  It is real.  And this is what you face if you do not come with.”

And without any warning or kindness, I projected the full horror of the Yeerks, what I had seen and witnessed, what I knew.  There were battles and the dead and the wounded, and then there were the screaming and the begging of prisoners. 

“If you will not come with us, that _will_ be your future.”

Even the children, Matilda, and Aximili had paled.  Only Eva stood unmoved.  “He’s right.  With all the graceless tact on an Andalite, that’s what you’ll deal with.”

“We can’t leave!  What about my patients?”

“What about your son?” Matilda responded quietly.

They looked at Jake, and then looked at us and then each other.  “We have to wait for Tom,” Jean said.

“We can’t Mom,” Jake said, choking.  “He’s … he’s one of them.  He’s already … we can’t take him now.”

“Jake, he’s your brother!” Steve scolded.  “We _are_ taking him.”

“No, we aren’t,” Eva interrupted.  “The best way we can help Tom is to get away.”

“My son is not one of them!”

“He is, Dad!” Jake yelled.  “Haven’t you ever wondered why he’s never here, why he’s not here now when lasagna is his favorite, why he quit the basketball team, why he’s so involved with the Sharing!  He was going to kill you when Grandpa G died!  If that driver hadn’t hit him, he would have, I saw it!  That’s not Tom!  Not now.”

Eva nodded.  “We have to leave.  Now.  Come on,” she said, coming to them and gently touching them, guiding away.  “We _have_ to leave.”

“But Tom –”

“We’ll do everything we can to save him, Mrs. Berenson, but now, we have to save you,” I said.

“I’m not leaving Tom!” Jean said.

“You can save one son or lose both, along with your lives.  You pick,” Eva said.

It was a choice no parent should face.  One son or the other.  Jean started to cry and Steve was lost.

And Jake, their son, looked like both of them.

 ****

Eva drove them to the camp, taking Marco and Jake with them.  It was better for Jean and Steve to be surrounded with people who were familiar to them.  

‹That didn’t go _too_ badly,› Matilda said as we watched them leave.  Erek would take Homer to live with the Chee. 

‹Wait for Rachel’s mom,› Tobias said.

There were fewer more prophetic words.  I already had a vague dislike of Rachel’s mother from when she had forced me to watch her youngest children at the beach.  Formally meeting the trainer and source of Rachel’s insolence gave me even less pleasure.

Erek promised a Chee would be there to cover for us, and I saw it was Lourdes.  Rachel was waiting for us, and she said, “We’re all here.  I say we just grab and run, I got the van loaded up.  My mom’s a lawyer, she’ll argue no matter what we say, whether she’s right or wrong.”

‹And that sounds like no one we know,› Matilda said. Ignoring Cassie’s laughter and Rachel’s huff, she continued, ‹Elfangor and her will get along like houses on fire.›

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

‹You are the one who argues no matter what,› I said privately to Matilda, who gave me a saucy mostly human grin as the beak faded to lips and feathers turned to hair.

“Evidence to my point,” she said, to the confusion of the others.

“Come on, let’s do it,” Rachel said, inviting us inside.  “Sara and Jordan are watching TV.  And Mom’s on the phone.  Obviously.” Over the sound of cartoons, there was her mother’s voice. 

‹Aximili, Cassie, why do you not tend to Rachel’s sisters?›

‹Is that wise?  I do not … they may be scared.›

“Don’t worry, Ax.  No one in this house gets scared.  Come on,” Cassie whispered and guided him towards the living room.  She said hi to the girls, and then attempted to introduce Aximili, but one of the girls said, “Cassie, you got a Pokémon?!”

‹No, I am an Andalite and I can run very fast.›

“Can I ride him, Cassie, please, please!”

“Whoa, no way.  I didn’t think they were … where did you get him, Cassie?  I want one.”

“Please, please, Cassie!”

Hearing that Cassie and Aximili had things under control, for a given value, Rachel led us to the kitchen.  I hung back, watching as her mother swore into the handset.  The kitchen table still showed signs of supper, pizza from Domino’s. 

“Those papers better be in my office by Monday!  My client … no, no excuses.  We are doing this!”  There were a few more choice words and orders before the phone was slammed down.

“Mom, I don’t think you’ll be in the office Monday,” Rachel said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rachel,” her mother said, dismissive and short.  “My client … who are you?” she demanded of Matilda.

Matilda stepped forward, hand out.  “You probably know me as Matilda Rusch.  We saw each other at the beach, remember.”

“Ah, yes.  I’m Naomi.”  There was no true recollection, but Rachel’s mother was a pro at this.  “You must be Tobias’ mother.  I can see it.  He’s a good boy.”  Her eyes went up and down.  “Do you need some … clothes, Mrs. Rusch?”

“No, I’m fine.  And thank you for saying so about my son.  Rachel’s a wonderful girl, you must be proud.”

“I am.  And why are … Sara, Jordan, be quiet in there!  We’ve got company!”

“Mom!  You have to see Cassie’s Pokémon!”

“He’s so cool, Mommy!  His name is Ax and Cassie is letting me ride him!  But he’s not trained very well.  He won’t jump over the couch!”

Naomi rolled her eyes and muttered something about damn Japanese cartoons and fads under her breath.  “Can I offer you anything?”

“No, thank you.”  Matilda looked between Rachel and me, unsure of what to do next.  “Umm … I guess you should meet Ax’s brother, Elfangor.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Mom,” Rachel said as I carefully stepped into view.

She didn’t do anything completely stupid.  Staring at me before giving a little screech and attempting to corral me with a spice rack was almost exactly what I’d expect from Rachel’s mother.  “Get away!  Rachel!  Get your sisters, call the police!  Get out!”  She chased me around the table, for I kept stepping backwards. 

‹Rachel, please control your mother.  I do not want to risk harming her.›

“Mom, please, stop embarrassing me!” Rachel hissed, grabbing the rack from Naomi’s hands.  “Trust me, Andalites do not run from spices!  Elfangor could probably name three things he could make with them.”

Devoid of the rack, Naomi made a possibly wiser choice for a defense.  “Rachel, move!  I’ll –”

“No, noo!  Bad idea,” Matilda said quickly, blocking her from the knives.

“What are you –”

“Mommy!  Mommy, look at me!”  Aximili looked completely embarrassed at being used as a mode of transportation.  “I trained him!”

‹Please do not kick me.›

Naomi gave another screech.  “Sara!  Get off that thing!”  Matilda caught her before she could get too far or end up harming her daughter.

“Naomi, calm down, it’s okay.  Ax isn’t going to harm Sara or Jordan or anybody.”

“Whoa!  You have another one, Cassie?  Can I ride him?” Jordan demanded.

“Mom, stop it, get a grip, stop it.”

This was a strange scene, the sort only found on Earth and among humans.  Tobias was gently removing Sara from Aximili’s back, but the girl was trying to hold on and screaming that she didn’t want to get off.  Aximili tried to pull apart her hands so he could remove her, but his arms did not have the strength.  Cassie was holding Jordan back, and both Rachel and Matilda were dealing with Naomi. 

“Elfangor!” Matilda complained.

‹All right!  That is _enough_!› I said with enough firmness and volume to draw everyone’s attention.  ‹Sara, please let go of my brother.  _Let. Go_.  Thank you.  And Ms. Naomi, you will settle down or I will be forced to do something I would rather not.  Stop it.  Are you calm?  Will you behave?›

Naomi was mutinously silent, and Matilda gingerly let her go.

‹Now, we are going on a camping trip.  It will be very fun.  Your sister has got everything ready, don’t you?›

Rachel nodded.

“Rachel!” her mother scolded.  “We are not going _anywhere_ , whatever you are!”

‹If you do not,› I said darkly, privately, just to her, ‹your daughters will be in danger.  You will have signed yours and their death warrants.  Now you will come with us.›

“No we –”

In a quick sense of imagination, I sent her a similar image that I had sent to Jake’s parents, except it focused on daughters’ fates – death by Dracon beams, imprisonment.  She refused to believe the fate.

‹If you value your daughters’ lives at all, you will come with us,› I whispered.

“This is kidnapping!” she hissed.

‹No.  This is a rescue mission.  Take them to the van.›

Rachel helped herd them away, and Aximili would make sure Naomi wouldn’t run.  Sara, still in Tobias’ arms, asked if her father was going to go camping with them too.  I didn’t hear Rachel’s response.

“Maybe I should go with Rachel and Cassie.  I should probably drive,” Matilda said.

‹If you wish.  I believe we can handle Tobias’ uncle with just Aximili, Tobias, and myself.  He will at least know Tobias, for there is no certainty he would even remember you.› 

She bit her lip in thought.  “No.  No.  Even if I don’t remember him, Howard’s family.  Sort of.”

Indeed.  I followed the noises to the garage, watching as everyone got inside.  Sara and Jordan were begging for more rides, while Naomi was in a high temper behind the wheel.  She looked very much like her daughter just then.

‹When you finish, Cassie, go home,› I said.  She nodded and then continued to say that she’d try to convince Aximili and me to give rides, but she couldn’t make any promises.

“Don’t worry, guys, I got this,” Rachel said, pushing the button to open the garage.  “Let’s do it, Mom.”

There was a battle of wills, but, after a glance at me, Naomi turned the van on and then floored it out of the garage, skidding in her turn, and then disappearing.

“God, she is like you.  You both drive like nuts,” Matilda said, and I gave her a baleful look.

‹I don’t have to give them rides, do I, Elfangor?› Aximili demanded.

‹If you can deal with their disappointed expressions and pleading, then no, you do not have to.›

“That means, if they ask him, he’ll cave,” Matilda said to her son.

“Yeah, Elfangor’s an old softie.”  Tobias took a deep breath.  “Well, guess it’s my house next.  If we’re lucky, he’ll be passed out on the couch.  Make our job easy, huh?”  His attempt at levity fell flat and met with our silence and discomfort.

‹Yes.  Yes, it would.›

 ****

Flying to the derelict neighborhood was a familiar sensation.  I had visited his mother this way, but I had never dared to visit his uncle.  It was never my place, and I had not trusted myself to remain polite.  And there was also the guilt at what my actions had forced my son to endure.  So I never did.  I did not even truly know what the human looked like.

There was yelling from various humans, youths running around, but from the air the hologram didn’t hide – because the Chee chose not to for our benefit -- Joseph Long sitting patiently on the porch.  The Chee was dressed in a three-piece suit, leaning back as if he was on the beach, and unconcerned for his safety, for, of course, he had no reason to be worried.

We landed and nodded to the Chee.  “Right on time,” Joseph smiled, but then his smile faded a bit.  “He is inside watching the news.”

‹How many beers?› Tobias asked quickly, embarrassed and focused on his feathers.

“I have heard three since I arrived.”

‹We’ll be okay.  Uncle Howard might yell and stuff, but he’s never hit me.  Not unless I deserved it.›

Part of me desired to know when he had, what he had done to “deserve” the treatment, if he had been merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I would not.  Tobias was embarrassed enough, it was becoming clear the more human he became.

“Umm … it’d probably be best if you guys were human.  Or didn’t let him see you right away.”

‹I will stay myself,› Aximili said, eyes narrowed.  With his limited knowledge of the human – or was it limited?  Tobias had a closer relationship to my brother than me – he would not allow the risk.

‹I will be human.  I am not afraid of your uncle.›

“Even if you were, you could take him either way when he’s like this.”

Matilda looked down and around.  Perhaps she was cataloguing everything.  She had lived in a similar neighbor when she had been blind.  It must be different to actually _see_ such a place.  While her home had been even more unsavory, the expression on her face showed she wasn’t pleased with this residence.  She set her hand on her son’s shoulder and squeezed it, be it with apology or strength or some other emotion.

Once I was fully human, Tobias took a deep breath before entering.  We followed.  My nose wrinkled at the stench of alcohol, tobacco, and, faintly, cat waste. 

It wasn’t messy, but it was dark and narrow with peeling paint.  Tobias was walking hunched and with trepidation.  The news anchor’s voice echoed the day’s calamities and interests, and there was a belch and a sound of a liquid being drunk.

“Umm … Uncle Howard?” Tobias said when he could not get any further.

The man grunted, not moving his gaze from the television.  He had not even realized Tobias wasn’t alone.

“Uncle Howard, we, uh, we have to go.”

No comment.

I glared at the human, looking at him clearly for the first time.  He was a roofer, Tobias said, and his skin showed it.  Heavily tanned and wearing an undershirt, his shoulders were broad and arms strong.  His stomach protruded slightly.  Truly unrelated to Tobias in any way – it was the aunt who was supposed to share blood with Tobias – there was no resemblance.  The man has a large nose and deep eyes, a drooping chin with several days’ worth of stubble.  His black hair was cut short, an army cut, with spots of grey.

“Hello, Howard,” Matilda said, finally stepping in when it was clear Tobias’ uncle would not pay his nephew attention, and Tobias was, in this environment, too ingrained to be timid.

The new voice got his attention, and Howard lurched up to sit properly.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Loren.  Tobias’ mother.”

He looked up at her, eyes searching over her face.  “Susan said you were blind.”

“I was.  It was … I got my sight back recently.  How are you?”

“You here to take the brat?”

I heard Aximili’s tail swish in the air, and Matilda stiffened.  “Yes.  And I’d like you to come with, Howard.”

“Take him and go.  I don’t want him and I want nothing to do with you.”

Tobias tried again.  “Uncle Howard, you’ve got to come with us.”

He gave a laugh for some reason. 

“Howard, you’re in danger,” Matilda said, coming closer to the man.  I wanted to tell her not to, but held my tongue.  “There’s … the world’s not safe.”

The human ignored us, drinking his beer.  “Just take the kid and go.”

“Do you wish to die?” I demanded, drawing his attention to me. 

“Who the fuck are you?  You Loren’s new husband?  A piece better than Arnold.”

“Do you wish to die, Sir?” I repeated.

The man’s face reddened.  “Are you threatening me?”

“No.  I am stating pure fact.  There is a war coming.  You will be killed if you go not come with us now.”

The human stood up and approached me.  He was not taller than me, but he was not much shorter.  “I’m not going anywhere, asshole.  You take the kid and get out now before I make you.”

I sneered.  Internally, I was conflicted.  I had _no_ desire to subject others or myself to this human, but even with the treatment his guardian had given him, Tobias had some fondness and loyalty to the human.  “You may try, Sir.”

The punch I did not even see coming could have done me serious harm had Aximili not reacted.  His tail dropped down hard and heavy, catching the human unaware and, by his scream, breaking the wrist.  Aximili pushed himself in front of me, towering.

“What … what the fu … you’re … a _alien!!_ ”

It was ironic that Tobias’ uncle had been the only one to call us as we were.  “Yes, we are,” I said, bending down to the man.  He was cradling his wrist and I attempted to take it to assess the damage.

Howard backed away.

“It’s okay, Uncle Howard, they won’t hurt you.  Er … more, I mean.  It’s okay.”

“What the hell _are_ you?” he demanded, eyes wide as he stared between Aximili and me..

“We are a race called Andalites.  We are at war with the Yeerks, who are attempting to take over the universe.  They are on Earth and soon they will make open war.”

His eyes darted, and then he slumped.  “I need a drink.”

My nose crinkled.  “You have drunk enough.  Let me see your wrist.”

“Why?  You going to heal it with one of the tricorders like on Star Trek?”

I rolled my eyes while Matilda and Tobias shared a laugh.  “No.  I am going to see what is broken and bind it.  Now _let me see it_.”  I took his arm without mercy and pulled it towards me, ignoring his yelp of pain.

“Damnit, fuck!  What are you fucking hell doing?”

‹Do not speak to my brother in such a fashion, human,› Aximili said lowly.

“Your ulnar and scaphoid bones are fractured,” I reported, noting the swelling.  “I can bind your wrist here and give better treatment at our camp, but it will take several weeks to heal.  I need some bindings and something to keep his arm straight, a flat piece of wood or similar.”

“I’ll get them,” Tobias volunteered, rushing away.

Howard continued to swear under his breath, but he did not direct it at me.  With his free hand, he grabbed his beer and downed it.  “So … you two are brothers?”

“I am in disguise,” I said.

“Right.  And you fight these aliens.  And yet you bother coming to protect me.”

“Tobias is our friend and ally.  You should be proud of your nephew.”

Howard gave a grunt.  “Whatever.”

I would _not_ bend his wrist back to make his scream.  “He is a great warrior.”

“That kid?  Ha!  Ow!  Watch it!”

“I am sorry, my hands slipped.”

Tobias reappeared.  “Here, will these work?” he asked, biting his lip as he gave me a roll of ace bandages and several long tongue depressors.  Or maybe they were former popsicle sticks, given that I was sure one of them was stained grape.

“They will have to.  Hold still.  Tobias, get your belongings and put them in your uncle’s car.  And be sure to pack bedding, pillows, and the like.”

“Right, Elfangor.”  And he disappeared again.

“Hey, I never said I was going with you!   And you’re not taking my car!”

I looked up at him.  “Would you rather die or become a slave?”

“This is crazy!  If aliens were attacking, it’d have been on the news!”

“If it was on the news, they’d really be attacking us, Howard,” Matilda said.  “I know this is completely out there, but you got to believe us.  The Yeerks are dangerous.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re fighting them too, Loren.”

“Yes, I am.  And you’re coming with us, whether you like it or not.  So shut up and let Elfangor wrap your arm so we can leave.”  Her voice ended in an order.  “Think of it as my thank you for taking care of my son as these years.” There was the definite venom and warning in her voice.

He wisely sat in silence.

It took fifteen minutes before Tobias got everything, and Matilda helped him put the suitcases in the trunk of the car.  Sheepishly, Tobias also carried his cat and the bag of cat food.  “This is Dude.”

“Hello, Dude,” I said, moving my hand slowly to let the creature sniff it before scratching the feline’s ears. While initially leery of me, he purred after a few scratches.

“Waste of fur,” Howard muttered.

“He can come with,” I said.  “Do you have everything you require?”

The human seemed to think.  “I got two guns.  One’s in my drawer, another is in the closet.”

“Come, let’s get them.”  I followed him to the master bedroom.  Once the guns were out, I quickly took them away from the human, removed the bullets, and tucked the weapons into my hem of my morphing shorts.  The extra bullets I carried in my hand.

“I’m not going to shoot you,” Howard said.

I wouldn’t take the chance.  “I do not want you to shoot our allies.  They are startling on first appearance.”

“Freakier than your brother?”

“Move.”  Back in the main room, Tobias, holding tightly to his spitting cat, was apologizing to Aximili.  Apparently Dude had not liked my brother, for Aximili was nursing several scratches and glaring at the hissing cat.

“I’m so sorry, Ax.  I didn’t think he –”

‹It is all right, Tobias.  I am not severely injured.›

“Told you, he’s a damn menace.”

“Ax just startled him.  See, he’s fine.”  Yet when Matilda tried to pet the cat, Dude spat at her and she moved her hand away.  Tobias’ uncle laughed.

“Shhh, shh, calm down, Dude,” Tobias pleaded quietly.  “Be a good kitty, shh.” I wondered if he thought that we would abandon the creature, because it was unlikely the Chee would have been able to take the creature.  

‹The cat can still come, Tobias,› I murmured to him. ‹Do not worry about it.›  Aloud, I said, “Come on, let’s go.”

Once in the car, Dude was not much better behaved.  Cats, apparently, do not like car rides like dogs do, for he yowled and whined in Tobias’ arms, attempting to go free and under the seat.  Howard only yelled once to shut the cat up, because I yelled back in thought-speak, which, by Tobias’ yelps, had not settled the cat’s nerves any better.

‹I do not like cats, I think, Elfangor,› my brother muttered to me.

While at the moment I agreed, I merely started humming a quiet melody to drown out the cat’s complaints.

For a very short car ride, it was very long for many of the passengers, but we finally made it to the meeting place, a secluded spot by the forest.  I pulled the car in, shut the engine off, and got out, calling the signal for the sentries to appear.

“Why are we stopping?” Howard demanded.  “Are we going to be beamed somewhere or – holy fucking Hannah, what are those?!”

“Those are our allies.  The Hork-Bajir.  They will take you to our camp.  Come, we must be quick.”

“You got to be kidding!  Those freaks are –”

“Get. Out.”

The five Hork-Bajir quickly took the belongings and disappeared, while one lingered.

“Howard, come on.  It’s okay.  The Hork-Bajir are harmless,” Matilda coaxed.

“You’re flipping nuts!”

“You can either walk or be carried, Howard,” I said levelly.  “It is a five-mile hike.  I suggest being carried.”

“It’ll slice me to ribbons!”

“No.  Jara Hamee very gentle.  No harm human friend of Tobias.”

Howard gapped.  “It talks?!  It _knows_ you?!” he said, turning on his nephew.

“Friend Tobias save us!” Jara Hamee said proudly.  “Now we save you.  Free or dead!  Come.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Howard.  Really,” Tobias said.  Outside of the car, I saw scratches all over his arms from Dude, whom he still held protectively.

It took some persistent convincing, but finally Howard relented to being picked up.  Jama Hamee beamed.  “We go.”

With a dying screech of panic and pain, Howard disappeared into the woods. 

“I’ll carry Dude there.  I don’t want him to run off.”

Aximili sighed and said with reluctance, ‹No.  I can do it.  It will take you too long.  And he will not harm me much.›

With some trepidation, Tobias, after wrapping the cat in a towel, passed Dude into my brother’s arms.  The cat hissed but was unable to claw, and his owner quickly started to morph to wolf to go with.  They were soon off, leaving only Matilda and me at the car.

“Just Cassie’s parents left.”

“Yes.  Tell the others I will meet them at Cassie’s home once I get rid of the car.”

“What are you going to do with it.”

“Just leave it in a parking lot.”

“Okay.”  She looked into the woods.  “I hope that cat doesn’t run away.”

“It will be fine, I am sure.”

“Maybe.”  She looked back at me.  “Don’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“I do not need a human to babysit me.  I will be fine.”

“Sure you will.”  After giving me a quick hug, she limped over the rocks and twigs into the forest, imitating her son and morphing a wolf.

Back in the car, I sat forward and rubbed my eyes.  It was almost over. 

 ****

Cassie’s parents were easy to convince, relatively speaking.  They only needed to understand the danger they would place Cassie in by staying, and once that had been accomplished, they had loaded up their truck with the smallest of the patients and followed our directions.  True, they thought my brother and I were deer mutated by high-power lines, a theory I could not even understand, but once they realized we were normal non-mutant beings, they wanted to check out health and pet us like animals in a zoo.  No doubt they thought us lower-level creatures, but the concept would fade quickly.  And if they came at me with a needle, I would demonstrate how much I did not care for those in the medical professional when they focused on me. 

There were now too many humans in this Valley.  Far too many, and they all were whiny babies, to quote humans.  The children’s families were lost and confused, unable to understand this new world they were part of.  The campers were happy to help them get sorted, fill them in on things they didn’t understand, and the children had to keep telling their families that yes, everything was real.  Relieved to have most of their families safe – we could not save Rachel’s father, and Tom would have to wait – the children’s initial pleasure changed over to the dismal fact that they were, by now, known to be gone.  That they were now known to the Yeerks as the bandits, that they weren’t safe even out of morph.

And the Hork-Bajir … they were _overjoyed_ to have these additional humans around.  (Toby Hamee had made her introductions, but otherwise did not intermingle with them.)  They were saving others against the Yeerks, they were happy to build more cabins and show concern.  Cassie’s parents, Michelle and Walter, were adored by a small fraction of the tree herders.  I wasn’t sure exactly _why_ they were, but maybe it was because Cassie’s parents were gentle souls.  Perhaps their interest in their animals struck the Hork-Bajir.  Walter and Michelle were just as interested in the Hork-Bajir, eagerly tending to the scratches and boo-boos.  After regularly treating animals with fangs and claws, the blades didn’t worry them, and they spoke the normal calm words and tones they must have used on all their patients.  I truly hoped they didn’t subconsciously think the Hork-Bajir similar to chimpanzees, for it would do no one any favors in the long run.

There was even a group of Hork-Bajir infatuated with Naomi.  The female was short and cruel to them, but they responded to that with respect, in awe of the authority she radiated from all her years in a courtroom.  She interfered in their politics, and I would have stepped in if the Hork-Bajir hadn’t been so eager for her assistance.

‹Are you not worried about this?› I asked Toby Hamee, watching Naomi deal with the two warring parties.  ‹It should not be her place.  This is a Hork-Bajir concern.›

Toby Hamee smiled grimly.  “I understand your stance, Prince Elfangor.  Andalites have long worked to avoid integrating themselves with other species.”

I blinked at her.  ‹I did not mean – ›

“I know what you mean,” she interrupted, tone lighter.  “I understand why the Andalites do what they do, and I have respected you for not forcing yourself into my people’s lives.”

‹Then _why_ do you allow Naomi?›

“Do we not want to keep this human happy?”

I paused.  Yes, that was a good argument.

“And this is a long-standing argument.”  Her skin darkened in embarrassment momentarily.  “I am not … very knowledgeable in tree herding.  While I can make plans and the like, caring for trees is more instinct and experience.  I do not have that.  They would listen to me, yes, but I cannot ignore their experience just for the sake of my intelligence and pride.”

I nodded, understanding.  ‹I have found using intelligence lessens one’s innate talents.›

“I will admit I do not _find_ tree herding very interesting, Prince Elfangor.”  She sighed at the arguments that her people were giving.  Even though Naomi looked upset, I could see she was relaxed under the tension.  _This_ sort of world she understood.

‹I understand it is sometimes difficult to enjoy what one’s parents do.  I do not find designing ship parts very interesting, but it will be my task to learn it from my parents when the war is over.›  Unlikely, but it was a harmless lie.  I could pretend I had a life after this for a small time.

“Really?”  She looked at me.

‹Commonly, jobs are passed down in the family.  If I had an innate talent is something else, I could perhaps make a career in that when and if the war ends.  Yet I find I have few talents beyond flying and tail-fighting.  It is likely the People’s Council will ask me to carry on my father’s job.›

“I was not aware Andalites were assigned jobs in such a fashion.”

My smile was thin.  ‹Warriors need something to do when have they have finished their tour.  Indeed, being warriors is not our real job, but one we must take up in times of need, despite how many feel.  If our world is to continue, we each must do our part.  Again, if I had some talent, I would be assigned in that direction.  I am not against being assigned to design parts.  I just have no interest in it.›

“Does your father?”

I frowned in thought.  ‹Honestly, I do not know.  He does his part.  His interest is immaterial, as will be mine.  He will teach me what I must learn, and eventually I will take the responsibilities.›  If I was terribly against the career, I could likely ask for another profession, but even now I could not see myself doing so.  It was my duty to do what was assigned, no matter how much I could be against it.  And I refused to be like _some_ Andalites who were in front of the People’s Council because of … well, it is too numerous to name, and all, to me at least, very embarrassing and degrading.  I cannot believe some Andalites complain so, merely to get another profession.  If I acted in such a fashion, I think my parents would both take their tails to me, and that would be after I took my own to myself.

“And what will your brother do?  Design parts as well?”

‹If I am doing the task, there is no reason for him also unless there is a desperate need for redesign.  He will be given or find his own profession.›

“He would not take your mother’s place?”

‹She also assists Father in designing, but she had a role in horticultural genetics.  She does things like analyze defects in sequence for another and gives her report.  Others do a similar task.  It offers double-checking analysis from an unbiased source.  I do not have the necessary education to take over for her.  Males do not generally take those studies.›

“You are not considered smart enough, I understand.”

I ignored her jib, though a smile did escape from my eyes before I could stop it.  In my case, it might have been true, though honestly, I could not stand memorizing the acid-base pairings in the simplest of organisms, let alone find the flaws and how they influence the outcome.  I had poor marks in those lessons, mostly because since I did not like it, I did not put much effort to it.  Mother, I believe, was vaguely disappointed and said I took too much after Father.  I took it as a compliment at that age, but once older, I could see it wasn’t _quite_ in the spirit it sounded to my young mind.

“I hope, with Naomi’s assistance, this issue will be put to rest.”

‹Until she realizes they will not understand whatever she drafts up.  Human legalize is its own language, words I doubt you even have in your language. I doubt they are even in my language.›

Toby Hamee laughed.  “Yes.  And she’s been writing a contract and none of them have told her they cannot read or write the human language.”  Hork-Bajir, if I remembered correctly, took great belief in verbal contracts supplemented by crude markings.  The contracts were usually with the full herd to overhear, so there had been rarely a risk of someone double-crossing.  And anyway, such a risk for Hork-Bajir was usually slim anyway.

‹She will attempt to teach them.›  I scowled at the thought.  It was presumptuous to force another culture to learn the teacher’s language just because the teacher thought they were better, and it fit nicely with my opinion of Naomi.  Andalites, at least, had made translator chips, taking the responsibility to learn the language, not the other way around.

“You do not think we should learn?  Or that my people cannot?”

‹No.  I think the Yeerks have taken enough of your culture.  She should not force you to give up more because she is a pushy human.›

The Seer nodded.  “I agree.  But this is what my people want, and we cannot cling to a dying culture just because it was us.”

‹That is no reason to assimilate to the human culture.›

“Would you prefer if we assimilated to the Andalite culture?” she asked sweetly.

I couldn’t think of an appropriate retort, so I scowled, ‹No.›

“Of course.”

Sara and Jordan rushed past the table, Rachel yelling at them because that was what elder siblings did when they were annoyed at the younger.  The two girls had acclimated to their change quickly, even accepting that none of us were Pokémon.  They loved tormenting the wounded animals Cassie’s parents had brought, and Dude had taken refuge in Tobias’ tent to avoid them.  The cat had not liked his change, did not like the Hork-Bajir, but he’d come out at night or when no one but Tobias or his uncle were around.  It was normal cat behavior, Walter said.  Some just didn’t warm up to new people right away.  (As such, it surprised me when the cat slinked under me last night and spent a good portion of time smelling the back of my leg.  He apparently decided I was a tree, because he clawed himself up to my back before jumping to another perch using my tail.) 

It hadn’t taken long for the youngest to declare themselves bored.  Marco hid most of his things, and, while I did not approve of the risk she took, Matilda had gone to our old home and retrieved her cameras.  It was their job, she told them, to document everything.  The two accepted this task with zeal, and more than one person had been temporarily blinded by a flash.  And sometimes, for some of the humans, it had been in compromising positions, which meant they have to attempt to steal the camera from the giggling girls and delete the picture before it was shown to the rest of the camp.  It made me start to make sure the two were occupied when I had to do perfectly normal things that could look embarrassing on film.  It wasn’t _my_ fault the only way I could get the itch was to use my blade like that!  But I didn’t want it captured in pixels that could be blown up on a laptop screen.

Matilda said if I dared to break her camera because I was annoyed at them, she’d kill me for one, breaking her camera, and two, making it so Sara and Jordan would be bored again.  It stayed my tail and made it so I didn’t take the things away from them.  But I told them if they kept it up, they had to start keeping a log of camp life.  That way their book wouldn’t just be pictures and so they knew what their pictures were of.  Jordan agreed with my suggestion, and asked if maybe she could get a picture of her on my back.

I told her maybe at another time.

Jean and Steve were still in a sense of shock at being forced to leave Tom, but it had expanded to anger when they had overheard one of the campers pointed out that Visser One wasn’t going to be pleased that Tom lived with Jake, one of the infamous bandits, and hadn’t known.  Certain they had condemned Tom to death, it had taken a while for them to be talked down.  Now they just sat in front of the cabins, staring blankly.  Jake sometimes sat with them.

Howard, surprising, focused on helping the Hork-Bajir make the cabins.  Swearing like a muted sailor, he worked with damaged wrist and avoided almost everyone, shaking for a cigarette or drink.  Matilda and Tobias usually went to him, Matilda more often.  They spoke for hours about things I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about.  I had a feeling he was telling her about her past, what he knew of it, about her husband.

I didn’t let myself have any emotion on it, and I made a point to not eavesdrop.

Still, with this new life, I couldn’t really complain.  The humans were tolerable.  I expected far worse.

It turned out I just hadn’t waited long enough for it to get worse.

 ****

Rachel’s mother started it.  It was such a logical deduction that when it happened I couldn’t even summon up surprise.  Annoyance, yes, and with it came quite a bit of exhaustion, which might have made everything worse, but I suppose I am getting ahead of myself. 

The families hadn’t even been in the Valley a week.  I gave them some token attention, but I could not focus on them for long.  The Yeerk prisoners had to be dealt with; I had given my word and would not break it just because of pesky humans.  The date when I would have to meet the former Visser was fast approaching, and my nerves were becoming frayed by being pulled in several directions.

It wasn’t like releasing a pod of dolphins into the ocean.  They were their own concern once they had left my sight.  I didn’t even bother to see if they made it to the time limit.  If any Yeerk demorphed, it would have been in a torrential ocean, the poisonous salt eating away the creature.  The ocean was their home now, my involvement at an end.  But for Yeerks that became humans, I could not just _end_ my involvement there.  They would need some sort of support to get started in their new lives, otherwise they would end up homeless or back in the Yeerk trenches, perhaps even hosts themselves.  While it would have been ironic, maybe even fitting, it wouldn’t have been … befitting.

The Chee were a great help to me.  While not all of them approved of me in a general sense, there were enough that favored this plan of action.  They helped make the numerous accounts and lives based on what each Yeerk desired, removing the responsibility from me.  It might seem like they had taken it all from me, that all I should have to do is give the Gift to the Yeerks, but the Chee did require my assistance in numerous small things.  Perhaps they lied and only said they did to give me an illusion of control, but I was often in conversation with Chee and any particular Yeerk they housed, stuck in negotiations with beings that should be glad I was even doing this for them instead of demanding more spending money!

Sometimes it was very hard to forget that the Chee were merely acting as translators between the Yeerks and myself.  My temper, something that was never very subdued in the best circumstances, snapped at the androids more than once and I was not sure how much more apologizing my pride could take.  Perhaps it was for both our sakes that the Chee suggested we cease for the day, even if it was earlier than usual.

As myself, I rushed back, because it was rare I was in the Valley during this time.  There were regular “drills” being conducted, training everyone what to do when and if the Yeerks discover the location.  I hadn’t attended but one of them, so I had an inkling of my role, but I was a reasonably seasoned warrior who did not need too much practice, not as much as the humans.  It wasn’t an egotistical statement, mind.  It just simply was.

Looking at the sun and checking my own internal clock, I slowed once I hit the forests as it came to me that I most likely missed any training exercise planned.  Eventually I would have to try to make a greater attempt to join in, at least to appear as a member of our small force.  Once the Yeerk prisoners were dealt with, my time should become freer.  

Still, I was not eager to join the exercise, even if it was the end of it.  Besides, me entering it before it finished would only bring an additional level of chaos.  There was a chance I could ruin their practice or that I could even be mistaken for a hostile, since adrenaline was up.  Despite my talents, I didn’t want to fight any Hork-Bajir, especially since it was likely that, in the heat of moment, they might mistake me for Visser One.  Ridiculous, I know, because Prince Alloran and I have very few features in common, not to mention he was several years older than me and appears it, but stranger things could and have happened.

Amusing myself by examining nature, letting it calm my nerves and find my center, it took me a few minutes to notice something.  It was quiet.  Too quiet.

Often, when I was in the woods, I might cause a momentary stilling, but it ended soon once the natural wildlife took me for a deer or other non-threatening creature.  But this, this was different, and I twisted my ears and eyes, suddenly on my guard.  Were we actually under attack? 

The silence was too quiet to hint at an army, and I cautiously moved, stepping lightly on the foliage.  And then, there, I heard it, the noise of brush and breaking twigs and someone trying to move through it.  It was moving away from our camp.  A spy!  Someone had found us and was returning to give a report.  We would be ambushed.

Eyes narrowed, I leapt and moved toward the sound, intent on halting the enemy.  There, I could catch glimpses through the woods, and I rushed when I was clear, tail ready to attack, leaping directly in front of human.

The human screamed and fell back, and I was forced to arc my tail to avoid damage as I stared at the human.  ‹Ms. Naomi!  What are you doing here?› I demanded as I settled, moving to help her up.

“Get away from me, you freak!” she spat, and I withdrew my hand, insulted at her manner.  “You’re not keeping me prisoner anymore!”

I crossed my arms and stared down at her.  ‹I am not keeping you prisoner.›  When she tried to get by me, I stepped in front of her.  ‹I am not letting you leave.›

“Prisoner!” she screamed.  “I’m not staying here, as part of this loony cult!  If you don’t let me go, I’ll contact the authorities –”

‹How?› I asked dryly. 

Her face turned red.  “I don’t know what you’re doing, you … you … thing, but I won’t stand for it anymore.”

‹We are going back to the camp now,› I said over her ranting and tried pushing her towards it, but Rachel’s mother attempted to rush by me.  I was faster and blocked her.  ‹Come on.›

“Who do you think you are?  You can’t do this to people!”

The problem with being an Andalite is that we have no upper body strength, at least nothing that could force a human to obey.  I could trap her with my tail and block her way, but short of knocking her unconscious – a growing temptation – I had no way of moving her.  Rachel’s mother was not backing up an inch, and she tried to hit me with her fists and bits of forest.

‹If you do not come with me on your own free will,› I said, my temper fraying, ‹I will not be held reasonable for my actions.›

She didn’t listen and I started to morph.

During the morph, she managed to get away, but I expected that, and I ran after her, tackling her to the ground with my human form.  She screamed and raged, trying to push me off, and she _bit me_ and nearly _blinded me_ with her claws.  And I was _not_ very pleased where she was attempting to put her knee!

Finally I managed to pin her hands and glared down at her.  “Ms. Naomi,” I huffed, “that is quite enough.”

Giving me a glare, Rachel’s mother was certainly her mother.

She rammed her forehead into my nose, breaking it, and I swore in pain.

This was enough.  I had been avoiding being violent with this human, for Rachel’s sake, but my temper was gone and I struck her hard with my opened hand.  Her head went to the side violently, and I could see blood from her mouth.  “I am growing impatient with you,” I hissed, standing and pulling her up roughly.  She still fought me, screaming and kicking.

My human form is not a weak one, and my temper was giving me additional strength.  “You. Are. Coming. With. Me,” I growled as I gracelessly threw her over my shoulder.  Her fists beat against my back, her legs kicked, her voice screamed death threats and promises of retribution, but even if it _killed me_ (or her, I thought darkly,) this human was coming back with me.

Naomi’s screams had drawn the attention of the Hork-Bajir guards.  Before I had even gone one-hundred feet – mind my difficulties, for I had no shoes and a violent human over my shoulder – they came upon us, ready for an attack.  The two stared at us, and I do not blame them.

“Need help?” one, Wenn Dell, asked cautiously.

“No.  I will manage,” I grunted over Naomi’s screams to “Put me down, I’m going to sue you!”  There were insults about my parentage and that I was going to be deported for being here illegally and other nonsense.

It was a very, very long walk, and by the time we got there, the female over my shoulder was hoarse and I was in extreme pain from walking on forest ground.  I will say, though, we made an impression.

“Elfangor!  Mom!” Rachel said, surprised.

In the valley, I dropped the human to her feet and stepped back, crossing my arms gingerly.  She must have done something to my back, because it was sore and wounded.  The woman turned on me and very nearly struck me with her fist, but Rachel grabbed her wrist. 

“Mom!  You were trying to escape again!  How many times to I have to tell you to stay here!”

“Are you okay, Elfangor?” Matilda asked me quietly, coming up to touch my arm.

“I’m fine.”

“Shit, Naomi did a number on you,” she muttered.  “Come on, let’s get you washed up.”

After giving one last baleful glare at that human – which she returned just as equally – I followed.  Within a few steps, my feet were too sore to ignore and I was forced to take her arm for support.

“Is that … did she bite you?” Matilda asked, not daring to touch the wound.

“I did not bite myself!” I said sharply, and I must have opened some clotted vessel, because a trickle of blood went from my nose and into my mouth.  I spat it out.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”  At my look, she continued, “You know what I mean.”

“Nothing demorphing will not fix,” I said.  “She broke my nose.  And she attempted to kick me in my genitalia.”

A flash of amusement went across her face for a moment, but Matilda said, “At least you got her back here.  She would have been lost in those woods.”

“If she runs off again, I will _not_ be so tolerate,” I promised darkly.  “Next time, I _will_ use my tail and not my hand.”

“You hit her?!”

“She _bit_ me!  And I only hit her once.”

“I can’t believe you hit her,” she said, disapproval in her voice.

Angered that she was taking that human’s side instead of mine, I pulled away from her.  “I can tend to my injuries by myself.”

“Elfangor—”

With all my self-control, I ignored her and marched away without a limp.  All of the humans and Hork-Bajir did not dare approach me, and after rinsing myself of the blood, I gratefully demorphed.

 ****

The meeting should have come as no surprise.  Rachel’s mother was a lawyer for a reason, and giving pointless impassioned pleas was her forte.  Her minor wounds created an aura of sympathy only a fool would fall for.  Unfortunately, there were a lot of fools in this valley.

“Why are we being lectured by them?” she demanded to the humans.  “Why are we tolerating this? We’re in the woods. We’re living in filth – with aliens, for God’s sake! And every time I try to leave—some creature, some fur-covered human abomination stops me.”  There was a menacing glare sent my way.  “Let’s face it.” She looked at each of them, as a lawyer would to a jury. “Michelle. Walter. Eva, Peter, Loren. Steve.  Jean.  We’re being held prisoner. Why?”

Rachel was beyond impatient.  “How many times do I have to tell you, Mom!  We’re trying to save the planet from the Yeerks!” 

Mother and daughter fought briefly.

“And who gave you the right to fight?!” she demanded.  “Him?”

My eyes narrowed when her finger pointed at me.  However, I didn’t say anything.

“Ms. Naomi, you don’t understand,” Michael started to say.  “The world, we have to fight –”

“How can you be so arrogant to think nothing can be solved by compromise or negotiation?” Naomi demanded.

“So says you!  Your sisters aren’t slaves of those things!” Carlie yelled, jumping up.  “With no free will or anything!  What about Tom!  He’s been a prisoner this whole time!”  Steve and Jean flinched and looked away.

“You think they want compromise?” Paul added.  “Look what they did to the Hork-Bajir!  They stole their world and made them slaves!  And you want Earth to end up the same way!”

“He’s got you brainwashed!”  Naomi screamed.  “Where’s this big alien invasion?!”

“We fought it!  Our dad died from them.”

“Because of _him!_ ”

“Maybe these Yeerks can be reasoned with,” Walter tried.  “Right, Cassie.  Most people can.  What could we give them that could satisfy them?”

Cassie shook her head.  “They want our souls,” she whispered.  “They want everything.”

Jake nodded.  “As long as Visser One is in charge, no negotiation is possible. He wants total control of Earth and everyone on it. If another visser comes into power, that might change. Maybe.  But right now, we’ve got to deal with him.”

“So there are other vissers?” Walter said, grabbing onto the bit of hope.  “We could tell Visser One will negotiate, but not with him.”

I didn’t stop the snort that escaped.  Eva agreed.  “Walter, not to sound condescending, but you have no idea who or what we’re dealing with.  If we approach Visser One for any reason, he’ll kill us.  Period.  If we’re lucky.  If he stops to think, maybe he’ll torture us first, just in case we have any useful information.  But he’ll kill us.  As will almost any Visser.  And if they do negotiate, they’ll lie and backstab us.  The Yeerks _don’t care_ for anyone else but themselves.”

I doubted I could have said it better, and Eva’s tone made almost all of the humans shiver in fear.

“Tell me, then, how we’re supposed to stay safe, how to we stay alive in this war?” Naomi demanded, her voice sarcastic on the word war.

“Believe you’re at war.  You’re a parent and a soldier.  Learn to follow orders.  Learn to respect experience.”

“Fine.  You used to be a big shot in the Yeerk organization, Eva.  You know how the enemy thinks and what they’re likely to do.  You’re from this _planet_.  I’ll accept your word.”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Eva said bluntly, so bluntly Naomi blinked in shock.  “There’s only _one_ Andalite the Yeerks fear everywhere, the only one Visser One respects and fears.  And that’s Elfangor.”

Several humans looked at me, as if startled at the words.

“Trust me, as much as it galls me,” Eva gave me a flash of an impertinent smile to show, while serious, her words were mostly a good-natured tease, “to listen to the Andalite, he’s our best bet.  You think I have experience with the Yeerks because I was a prisoner for a few years.  He’s been fighting them for decades.”

The humans continued to stare at me, while I remained still as a statue. 

“Him?” Naomi said derisively. 

“Him,” Eva repeated.  “He’s their bogeyman, their Beast.”

“He is one!” she screamed.  “Look at him!  Look what he did to us, our children!  He brought them into this.”

 “He saved my life,” Matilda said.

“And mine,” Eva added.

“Elfangor had nothing to do with Tom,” Jake said quietly.  “He was already a Controller before the Andalites even came here.”

“Jake,” his mother whimpered, “that’s not true.”

“It is!” he yelled.  “Tom’s got one of those slugs in him, and he’s a slave, a prisoner!  And we would never have _known_ until it was too late if Elfangor hadn’t come.”

“Even if that’s true, you shouldn’t be the ones fighting,” his father said.  “None of you.”

“Someone has to!” Paul yelled, standing up.  “And it’s not going to be you, is it?  You’ll just sit there and –”

“Watch your attitude, young man!”

“Paul! Shut up,” Vicky, next to him, hiss, pulling at his arm and looking warily at the adults.

“It’s true!” Paul continued, ignoring the scolding, speaking to the group at large.  “Ever since _they_ came here, they’ve been ruining everything we’ve got!  We were getting it!  We were making progress!”

“What progress?  You haven’t done any fighting,” Rachel demanded.

“We were going to!” Lewis backed up.  “We were going to help, but now they mess up everything because they can’t deal!”

“He has no right to give you that … that mutation!” Naomi countered.  “He’s going to get you killed.  You’re just kids.”

“Look what they did, and they’re even younger than us,” Carlie pointed out.

“And they’ve been doing it for years,” Lindsay added.

“They shouldn’t have had to,” Michelle said quietly, looking at her daughter with sad eyes.  “None of you should have to.  You’re too young.”

“So you’re going to take their place?”  Even I blinked at the source of the comment.  Howard, scowling against a tree, spat and gave a harsh laugh.  “I’d take my chances with the brats than any of you.  Three years and they ain’t dead yet?  Against the lawnmowers and phasers and them other things?”

“Shut up, Howard,” Naomi snapped.

“No, I won’t.  What galls you is your brats been saving the words, been risking death, and none of you noticed!”  He laughed again.  “Some parents!”

“Neither did you!” Jean said, jumping up.  No doubt she heard, _none of you noticed your son was a prisoner_ , as well.

“I never claimed to watch the brat.  I don’t give a flying shit about him.”

Despite the words, for some reason I couldn’t take them as truth, not with what I had seen lately of Tobias’ uncle.  Do not misunderstand, the statement didn’t please me, but Howard had shown his nephew some minor camping skills.  Nothing I would have expected, but I realized that if Tobias had been different, more athletic or even more out-going, their relationship would have been different.  In fighting to save the world, Tobias had earned something his uncle would never have given otherwise – his respect.

Still, the comment made me twitch my tail, and Tobias made a point to show no emotion while his mother and Rachel glared.

“But if they ain’t gonna fight?  Then who?  The army?  You think they ain’t already taken?”

“Just because you don’t care about your family doesn’t mean we don’t!” Steve growled.

“Then take his place, both of you.  Two for one.  Sounds like a deal.”  Howard grinned wickedly when they didn’t volunteer.  “You so desperate to save your kids from fighting.  I see two parents each.  That doubles the numbers right there.  And them brats,” he said, pointing to the older children, “half of them could enroll in the army, so hell, they are.  Instead of Iran or Iraq, they’re on home soil at least.”

“You’re sick.  Fighting isn’t the answer to everything.  They’re another way.”

“Yeah, total surrender,” Paul said sarcastically.  “Sorry, but _we’re_ against that.”

This argument continued again in a circle, and instead of listening, I looked at my children.  They were, except for the odd bursts, silent.  Of course, these were their parents, and there was a certain amount of ingrained obedience.  Besides, whatever their parents ordered, they would still fight.  They were true warriors.

And yet, something was slowing gnawing at me.  Since they had learned the truth about their offspring, none of adults, sans Matilda and Eva, had acknowledged the good, the accomplishments their children had done.  Instead of focusing on the numerous positives, they made the children ashamed and feel worthless.  Yes, I could understand the worry and fear.  I felt that myself, but how could they at least not say, “I’m proud of you,” at least once?  I did not ask for glorification, but simple dignity and respect for all they had withstood and done.  They’ve saved an entire species, gave a world another chance, and so many other things, and they were being scolded, as if they had gotten one too many detentions.  It was disgraceful.

Lost in my thoughts and disgust, it took me a moment to recognize my name being slandered (again).  Annoyed, I prepared to leave.  This meeting had nothing to do with me, not really.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Naomi sniped.  “Can’t handle the truth, freak?”

I should have ignored her, but I didn’t, because there are some things about my character I have never managed to control, even if it would be to my betterment.  I stopped and turned my head, my main eyes, back.  ‹It is you who cannot handle the truth.›  I kept my voice quiet, by my temper was high, mirroring my revulsion.   ‹Do not blame me.  It is you.  You all have failed as parents.  If you had been able to protect them as you should have, they would not have to protect you.›

It was in the silence I could escape.

 ****


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics are War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to Book 51

It was a year to the day, and it was time to fulfill my contract. The human President Roosevelt once said, “This is a day that will live in infamy.”  Perhaps it would not be as drastic as the bombing of Pearl Harbor, but today was one of the few days that would always stay in my memory – and perhaps all of the Andalite race – for it was today I was to give the Gift to the Yeerk prisoners.

Everything was set stream-lined and set-up in a hotel managed by a pair of Chee masquerading as a married couple.  It was nothing fancy, there wasn’t a pool here, but it would do for my task.  This was supposed to be a private summit of something the Chee thought would work, with all of the rooms taken and no parking available.  True, if this place had been under surveillance, the ruse would not have worked, for while the Chee had been kind enough to pretend to register, it was impossible their holograms would match the morphs the Yeerks would have.  Yet, it wasn’t being watched, so there was no concern.  Except for the paranoid who liked – or rather disliked but could not help but see, as was present – to find the flaws, this was an adequate plan.

Each room was registered under the assumed names of our prisoners, each filled with histories, paperwork, and monies next to the toothbrush and wardrobe.  My funds had taken a serious drop, though I still had more than enough left to do whatever it is I wished, had I had any real wish to do anything with the money. 

We were set up in the conference room, curtains drawn and holograms up in any case.   The Yeerks were each set up in individual jars, like one might find a betta fish at a pet store, and a Chee had been kind enough to write both the Yeerk’s name and their soon-to-be human variant on the outside.  There was a neat piles of unisex one-size-doesn’t-fit-all scrubs waiting for use on the each of the four corners of the table.  And in the center of the table sat the _Escafil device_ , its brilliant blue sheen reflecting the light in such a manner it appeared alive.

Maybe it was.  To me, staring at it with all of my eyes, it seemed as if the device _had_ taken a life of its own.  Perhaps it had even taken over my own, stole it away.

“Are you ready, Prince Elfangor?” the Chee known as Mark asked, with the deferential tone they could give when they wished.  His wife of this lifetime, Amanda, stood to the side, patiently holding the jar that held the first Yeerk, the former Visser Four. 

For the briefest of moments, I almost balked, declared the negative and left running with the device clutched in my arms.  But then I took a deep breath and forced the fear away, the repercussions of _Seerow’s Kindness_ , and the trained revulsion and wariness of giving the Yeerks any sort of technology, even in this fashion.  I had promised and I still had my honor, and somehow, perhaps wrongly, those still outweighed the other things that told me not to.

‹Yes.  I am ready,› I said before reaching for the _Escafil_ device.  Just before my hands touched it, they paused and almost drew back, as if there was someone trying to control me, but I took another deep breath and picked it up.  It was no warmer or cooler in my hold, and it wasn’t even heavier.  It was just … a blue box.

Amanda stepped forward and lifted the jar, almost like one would do at a religious ceremony.  I hoped she wouldn’t do so for the other twenty-seven.  For some reason, it irked me.

‹Kaplin Nine-Three-Five, it is time.›  The Yeerk in the jar twitched, stilled, before it swam with an obscene amount of energy required to keep himself stationary in the fluid.  ‹You are going to be placed on the device and will be a tingling sensation as the Gift is transferred.  You will then be placed alongside ten blood samples from random humans.  Once that is done, you will morph.  To morph, merely imaging being human with your broad requirements.  The technology will take over the rest.  The actual morphing is disconcerting but painless.  Let’s begin.›

If a slug could roll its eyes, I had a feeling one had just done so to me.  I scowled at it for a moment before nodding to Amanda to remove him from the fluid.  She did so with the greatest of care, and she just as gently set him on the device.  On my command it gave off the brilliant blue glow before fading, and I watched as she then took Kaplin to her spouse.  I was not sure on the Chee’s approach for the blood samples, but I trusted them to manage the randomization better than I could.

It was a quick yet slow process.  We had no way of being sure he had finished acquiring, and it might be that he had no way of knowing if he was even acquiring.  The Chee determined a time, perhaps even understood his small movements in a way that I, from such a distance, could not.  However, in under five human minutes, he was done. 

‹You may begin morphing,› I said, on the off chance he hadn’t been counting, or perhaps lost count. 

He did so, growing and twisting.  In a morbid way, it was like watching a human fetus grow and change into its larger form, except Kaplin was growing into much larger one.  The hair sprouted, and at first I thought perhaps he had broken through blood vessels, but no, it was merely a very dark red.  The skin, still Yeerk-colored and textured, grew, but the nose grew, fingers and toes shot out before legs and arms, and chest stuck out like a chicken. 

It ended finally, with Kaplin sitting on the ground, leaning on his hands.  For modesty’s sake and to protect from the chill, Mark covered him with a blanket.  The action make Kaplin jerk and look up, eyes narrowing.  Mark merely smiled politely.  “Hello, Mr. Kaughton.”

It took me a moment to understand, but a quick glance at the jar that had contained the former Visser reminded me of the name.  Kaplin had chosen his human name as Leonardo Kaughton.  I knew for a while he planned to go by Alexander, after Alexander the Great, but had instead chose to follow Leonardo de Vinci.  Or the turtle.  One or the other.

“Who are you?” he demanded, ignoring the hand to stand on his own power.  He might consider the blanket like a cloak, but it was nothing of the sort to anyone else.  When his eyes fell on me, they narrowed and his lips curled in a sneer.  “You.”

‹Did you expect another?›

I should not have been so stiff, but we were enemies that were reluctant allies. 

“No, I suppose I didn’t.”  He raised his arm and examined the dark flesh.  His form was a strange mixture of human races – the long red hair that hinted at Scotland, (though I wasn’t sure if the curls mirrored the characteristic,) the skin tone of one of the southern climates, and the bright blue eyes of the Norwegian that had a hint of the East in them.  He was a strong, tall man, with more muscle tone and several inches taller than my primary human morph.  Part of me wondered if he had purposefully tried for this presentation, or if it was random.  If anything, he would certainly make an impression and draw any human eye.  “Remarkable,” he breathed, making a fist.  The tendons were visible from where I stood.

‹Indeed it is.  There is a mirror to the back if you wish to see yourself more completely.›

If I hadn’t been the one to suggest it, he might have.  However, instead he straightened and met my gaze.  “Do I have clothes?”

“Here, Mr. Kaughton,” Amanda said, holding a set of the scrubs out to him.

“I am to wear these?”

“Just until we are able to get ones that are you size, sir.  We could not be sure what size your new form would wear.”

“I see.  And who are these, Beast?  Your warriors as back-up?” he asked as he took the clothing.

‹No.  They are allies who agreed to assist me in this endeavor, of the same who have been watching your compatriots and you this past year.›

This interested him, but only for a moment, and he focused on dressing.  Unlike an Andalite, he did not require any assistance in dressing properly.  It was not long before he was in the dark purple scrubs and crossed his arms.  I stood watching him, and he watched me.  The Chee watched both of us.  Finally, after a long bit of silence, he asked, “Now what, Andalite?”

I waved a hand to the rest of the jars.  ‹We have the rest of our fellow Yeerks to go through.  You may stay or go to your quarters and read about your new life.  It is your decision.›

For the first time, he appeared to notice the other jars.  His lips twisted in disgust, but he said, “I believe I will stay.”

‹As you wish.›

And so it was repeated.  I repeated my words to the next Yeerk, ignoring Kaplin’s not-so-quiet mocking in calling me long-winded while he examined himself in the mirror.  It was not long before a young woman, perhaps college-aged, stood where Jarvis Five-Two-Zero had been set.  She was inordinately pleased, chattering in the universal language _Galard_ with such eagerness that the Chee were smiling broadly and Kaplin ended up snapping at her to comport herself with dignity. 

The woman, now known as Aimee Clouseau, ignored him, happily examining herself, ignoring the blanket Amanda offered and instead asking, “Do you think they’re big enough? I had a host who said men didn’t pay any attention to her because hers were too small.”

‹Indeed?› I laughed, unable to help myself while the Chee was politely amused.  ‹I believe I have heard it said, only those who want them big are those who have them small, and only those who have them big want them small.›

“The size does not matter.  It is how you use it,” Mark added sagely. 

“Let’s get you dressed, dear, before you catch a chill,” Amanda pleaded.

Kaplin stood sneering at Aimee, who, once dressed, attempted to push him away from the mirror to test her dark hair in various hairstyles.  “Comport yourself with dignity!” he hissed again.  She stuck her tongue out at him and continued to ignore him. 

And so it continued.  Each Yeerk was given the Gift and allowed to morph to their human form.  Some were like Aimee, eager and pleased for the new identity.  Most were serious and looked at this as a lesser of two or three evils.  Yet each of them had their own personality, each of them different.  It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, I suppose.  The other Yeerks I had given the Gift to with were not mere carbon copies of each other, but I guess I might have assumed the animal personality was playing a larger part.  Yet I could not pretend such a thing with human morphs.  Some of them were surprisingly shy, rushing into their clothes and to their rooms.  One couldn’t even speak two words together without stuttering.  There were three couples, and possibly two males that were also a pair, though I couldn’t be sure if that was by accident or design. 

Finally, Thames Pyznik, formerly known as Zeppa Nine-Eight-One, was human and there were no more Yeerks to give the Gift to.  The room was full of milling, chatting humans, some nibbling on hors devours Amanda had brought in.  Any who had been to their rooms were reporting on their new lives to the others, and there seemed to be a minor competition among six as to who had the better life.  Aimee was busy twirling in a short dress she had found, and was already attempting to flirt with another newly human named Brandon Miller, a young man who seemed quite willing to be flirted upon.  Kaplin stood in the corner, arms crossed and rather unapproachable.  Perhaps he expected some sort of respect, as he had been a former Visser, and was upset he was receiving none.

‹Unless there are any questions,› I said, tucking the _Escafil device_ into a bag, ‹I shall leave you now.  Amanda and Mark can assist you.›

“Just like an Andalite to rush off,” Kaplin sneered.

‹What would you have me do?›  My annoyance slipped through without meaning to.  ‹I have given you the Gift and constructed reasonably thorough lives with monies and properties to do as you wish.  Honestly, you would wish for more assistance from an Andalite?›

He narrowed his new human eyes but did not say anything else.  The other soon-to-be _nothlits_ stood silently, staring between the two of us. 

“What if we need your help?” a female called, and I turned a stalk to see a short morph with a mixture of Far East and Middle East to her.  I could not remember her name, Yeerk or human.

‹How else could you require my help?› I asked, attempting to remain civil.

“The humans say, once you have saved someone’s life, you are responsible for it,” she continued.

‹The humans, or at least the parents, also say you should take some responsibility for your own life,› I replied shortly.  ‹You do not need me to hold your hand.›

“I did not say hold my hand, I asked if I needed help.”

‹In what?› I asked, exasperated, finally leaving my staring contest with the former Visser.

“If we knew, we would not require help.”

I refrained from replying that they probably still would.  Andalites are forever be destined to assisting any creature they come in contact with.  ‹This planet is at war.  I will not have time to dedicate to helping you manage bank accounts or other human trivialities.›

She gave a tight smile.  “We are not so incompetent, even though we were captured, to need a great Andalite’s help in that.”

‹Then what do you ask for?  If you are taken for prisoner and forced to be a host yourself?  Is that what you ask?  We will attempt to save you as we would for any human.›

“Not very well,” someone muttered.

“All I ask is if we can contact you,” the woman continued.

Tired of Yeerks and their evasiveness, I said, ‹If you must, leave a note here marked to PrESS.  The real owners, once they return,› not that they would, but I would prefer if I could give a minor protection to the Chee, ‹will not know of me.  Whether I see or answer it, I make no promises.›

“A typical Andalite,” Kaplin said.

However, my interrogator was pleased and I was allowed my take my leave.  The _nothlits_ and I exchanged no goodbyes, and I hoped I had dealt with the last of them.

 ****

“You’ve got a serious case of hoof and mouth, don’t you know,” Matilda said.  “Do you remember what I said about leaving me to clean up your messes?”

‹I have left a mess for you to clean up?› I replied, feigning my lack of understanding.  I did have four eyes and could quite visibly see the hostility from the adults.

“You should be proud.  You’ve even managed to piss off Walter and Michelle.  The infamous Andalite diplomacy.”

‹I never claimed to have it.›  I was too tired even for friendly banter.  ‹If you are going to yell or whatever it is you want to do, do it quickly.›

Matilda sat on a bit of railing.  “Eva settled everyone, I think.  Naomi shouldn’t be too much trouble anymore, at least.  But yeah, fair warning, she’d throw you to the wolves, and so would Steve and Jean.”

‹Not Cassie’s parents?›

“They wouldn’t want to give the wolves indigestion.”

‹So good to know they have their priorities, still.›  I rubbed my forehead.  ‹Is there something else you wish to speak about?›

“Someone _is_ cranky.  Don’t even try to give me the look, it doesn’t work, or the lip.”

‹What do you want?›

Matilda sighed.  “Why do I bother with you?”

‹Because you are forced by the other humans and left with no choice.›

“Sounds about right,” she acknowledged.  “That, and everyone is pretty sure I’m the only one you won’t kill.”

‹How very wrong they are.›  I waited a beat.  ‹There are many other humans I wouldn’t kill besides you.  I doubt you are even at the top of the list.›

“Ah, right through the heart.”  She mimed the wound for a few seconds before straightening and brushing back her hair.  The roots were now her original color by almost an inch.  “Anyway, I have to ask you something, so don’t kill the messenger.”

‹It is an ineffective intimidation tactic, anyway.›

Rolling her eyes and stifling a smile, she said, “It’s about giving the morphing to the rest of the brats.”

I groaned and covered my main eyes.  ‹May I take back my vow not to kill the messenger?›

“No.”   Her expression showed she was giving me some form of condolence with her amusement.  “I know the timing sucks with just giving the Yeerks the power and now dealing with all the parents.  But, after your last performance, that is sort of your own fault there.”

‹Indeed.›  It was times like these, once the results of not holding my thoughts were apparent, that I really wished I had learned to hold my thoughts.

“Though, really, given the amount of bitching those brats did, I don’t think it’s completely your fault.  I thought the kids were mouthy _now_.  If that’s what we have to look forward to in a few years, jut kill me now.”

‹I would rather kill them.›  My smile was weak.  ‹Was it really terrible?›

“More or less, especially considering none of them think any of the other adults are people that can boss them around, and all the other parents ….” Matilda trailed off, shrugging.  “I don’t think I endear myself to the other parents, either, since I wouldn’t tell them no.”

‹Why should that matter?›

“Aside from a solid front, they also think you listen to me.  What a load, huh.”

‹It would not have been a unanimous decision, because surely Eva supported the younger humans.›

Matilda frowned.  “For some reason, the others don’t mess with Eva like they do with me.  I think they think because I’m blond, they can walk over me or something.”

‹Naomi is also blond.›

“Fine, they think I’m a pushover because I don’t yell and threaten to hit people.  Because violence is _not_ the way to get your way.”

‹Ironically, your complaints seem to point to the contrary.  And I find it works.›

“That is _so_ not a good argument, especially since one, you have your wicked evil tail that scares the bejeezes out of the others, and two, you’re an Andalite, which already scares everyone.  They actually think you’re serious and will kill them.”

_If I could get away with it, I might_ , I thought to myself, but merely waved tail dismissively.  ‹It is not my fault they do not find you terrifying as they find Eva or me.›

She pouted.  “Which is just not fair.  Why is that?  I’m scary.”

‹Yes, you are.›

“You’re just saying that, you don’t mean it.”

‹Yes, I do.›  I smiled sweetly.  ‹I have seen several instances when you are quite terrifying, usually at hours prior to six AM.  Or prior to caffeination.  Or when you blamed me for Aximili finishing your sweets.›

Her scowl was most amusing.  “You think you’re so funny.”

‹I am being honest.›

“Sure.  Except for the fact that Ax probably never ate _my_ brownies or ice cream or things with my name on them.”

That did not deserve any response, since it was very ridiculous.  _If_ I ever ate anything with her name on it, it was merely because she hadn’t written her name large enough or in a predominate position.

“Anyway, back to business.  When do you want to do this?” Matilda asked when she realized her glare was not scaring me in this instance.

I sighed.  ‹I suppose _never_ is not an option.›

“Unfortunately no.” 

‹I have no preference, then.  Not _now,_ obviously, but tomorrow would be acceptable.›  Off-handedly, I brushed my blade across the tops of the grass behind me, slicing the tops off, before stepping back to feed.  ‹We have a few samples that they could use, but it may be necessary for a trip to the Gardens for appropriate forms.›

“Can’t they use anything the Yeerks used?”

‹Most of their forms were harmless, and, even with storing in freezer, the amount of time that has passed makes it likely that the samples aren’t viable anymore.  Perhaps if one of the children, you, or I attempted to acquire them, we could compensate with some difficulty, but it will be easier for the other humans to physically touch an animal.›

“Those acquiring virgins, making life difficult for all of us.”  She stood up and brushed off her legs and backside.  “All right, then.  I go brave the glares of the other parents and cheers of the brats and tell them the news.  Tomorrow then, and then field trip.  And I bet _you_ won’t take them.” 

‹I believed one of the children could go with them,› I offered. 

She laughed quietly.  “If there is ever someone who mastered delegating, it’s you.”

‹Only because I can delegate to those I trust.  All of you have proven your worth.›

She pushed my shoulder.  “No, we all just proved we’re all suckers.”

‹And that is a worth beyond all compare.›

Despite herself, she laughed and I joined her.

 ****

‹Elfangor!› Aximili exclaimed, rushing toward the group.  I pulled back the _Escafil device_ and gave him a worried look.  This was not like my brother, and he skidded to a stop.  ‹Elfangor, I must speak to you.  Alone.›  That last word was said in a very meaningful manner.

I nodded, trying to think of what could send him into such straights while tucking the device into the bag.

“Hey, what about the rest of us?” Vicky demanded, and it was echoed by Michael and Emily.  I had split the group into two, not because the device could not handle giving it to so many, but because being crowded by eight humans was not a pleasant proposition.  “You can’t just leave!”

‹I will be away momentarily.›

“Couldn’t someone else just give us the power?” Michael asked timidly.

Yes, someone else could, but someone else _wouldn’t_.  The Gift was mine to give in my time, and waiting a mere five, ten, fifteen minutes was not much to ask.  It wasn’t like it was much use, until animals could be acquired.  ‹No.  I will be back.›

I followed Aximili, and then grew both apprehensive and concerned when he kept leading me away from the camp and anyone who could overhear, as if we communicated vocally.  ‹What is it, Aximili?› I asked once he finally stopped under the shade of a deep thicket of branches.

His stalks darted around, looking for anyone who could overhear.  ‹Elfangor,› he whispered, ‹I’ve had contact with our people!  They’re on their way.›

My eyes widened and rose, and I almost dropped the _Escafil device_.  ‹Are you certain?›  What a foolish question!  Of course he was.  My brother wasn’t given to random imaginary episodes or lapses of reality.

He nodded.  ‹I spoke with Jaham-Estalan-Forlan.›

An involuntary rush of air escaped me.  War-Prince Jaham-Estalan-Forlan was chief of the Andalite military.  He was also not someone you wished to cross.  More than one Andalite – guilty or otherwise – had been reprimanded and/or imprisoned by him.  When I had been in contact with my superiors, he was gaining tail room, focusing on tightening Andalite ranks.  Cowards were imprisoned, pacifists were charged and forced, and so many more numerous persons were corralled to his way.  And if _he_ was in charge now … I refused to tremble, to think about my own future.  ‹What did he say?›

Aximili was standing straight, like a true _aristh_ in front of a superior officer.  I recognized the gesture, the retreat into military persona to deliver certain types of news.  ‹Aside from telling us about the ship coming to our aid, he did not say much.›

No, he wouldn’t.

He shifted awkwardly between his back hooves, still nervous.  ‹He … uh … he ordered me to give reports to him.  Without your knowledge.›

I took a deep gulp of breath.  Aximili’s loyalty touched me, but his information struck another cord.  War-Prince Jaham _should_ wish to speak with me, the highest commanding Andalite on the planet.  In that he was avoiding me spoke ill news.  ‹Did he give a reason?›

My brother avoided my gaze.  ‹He said you’ve been compromised by your affection to the humans.  And that you cannot be trusted since you gave humans the morphing technology,› he finished in a murmur.

‹I see.›  I closed my main eyes and tightened my grip on the _Escafil device_.  It was hot in my hands, burning with my shame and anger.  ‹You choose to disobey him.›

‹Of course!› Aximili said loudly, surprised and angered, before quieting.  ‹ _You_ are my Price.  I obey you.›

‹When Jaham gets his tail on you, you will wish you hadn’t,› I sighed.

Aximili was silent, gathering his thoughts.  ‹He told me things, what he thinks will happen.  He thinks the humans will rebel, that we will start to fall apart.›

I smiled grimly.  He was planting a seed, in case Aximili didn’t obey immediately.  If his prophesies came to pass, Aximili could have been willing to side with the War-Prince, to listen to him, because if I let such a thing occur, I would have been losing control.  It meant I was no longer fit to lead, and it showed Aximili the clear path as to who to listen to. 

‹I am to contact him in a few days, to give him a report.  Do you wish me to?›

‹Yes.›  Because I would not risk Aximili damaging his career for me.  I could protect him by letting him obey War-Prince Jaham. 

‹Are you sure?›

‹Yes.  In the least, perhaps he will tell us something useful.›

‹What should I tell him?› Even as he asked, several of his eyes fell on the device in my grasp.

Already damned, it didn’t matter anymore, did it?  ‹Use your discretion.  If it will make him believe you said with him, tell him.  Then he will tell you things, things we need.›  Because if Jaham-Estalan-Forlan was in charge, we needed all the information we could get.  If he had lived on Earth, he would have been known as Jaham the Jackass, and for good reason.  Because when the mood hit him, and it hit him often, he most certainly was one.

My brother nodded slightly, a crease of worry on his face.  I had given him a lot of responsibility, and I could sense what was going through his head.  If he did give his reports, he could very well destroy me.  But if he didn’t, we could lose our chance at information.  For instance, exactly _when_ reinforcements would arrive.

‹Do not worry about me, Aximili,› I murmured.  His main eyes looked at me.  ‹What is one to the many?  We must defend Earth.›

‹Yes, brother,› he agreed after a long moment.  Eyes back on the device, he asked, ‹Should you get back to the humans?›

Yes, yes I should.  Nothing had changed since Aximili’s news.  I was already destined to be disgraced, but now I was filled with the desire to not add to my already long list of demerits.  But I had given my word.  ‹Yes.  Thank you for telling me the news.›

I was halfway to the humans when Aximili rushed out, calling.   ‹Elfangor, you should be careful with the device.  You do not want to deplete it too far.›

I stopped and gave him an incredulous look.  However, before I could even ask, Paul asked, “What?”

‹I have been doing the math,› Aximili continued, before I could interrupt.  Indeed, I couldn’t have even if I wanted to, because I was very confused.  ‹He has been using the device very frequently, and it is not designed for it.  If he continues to use it without an adequate waiting period, he could deplete the technology and make it nonfunctional.›

“Is that true?” Emily asked.

“Oh, come on, you can’t believe that!” Vicky exclaimed.  “It already worked for you guys.”

‹You cannot be sure, because none of you have acquired anything.  With fewer numbers of the devices transferred, it would take longer for you to have adequate numbers to successfully morph, and it would be more exhausting.›

‹That is true,› I agreed slowly.  So far, that was about all my brother had said that was true.

“What’s going on?” Marco asked, coming up with Jake and Rachel.

“He said that box needs its batteries refreshed before they’re dead for good,” Lewis explained.

“That’s not good.  We need that thing to recruit more people,” Rachel said.  “If it breaks, we’re screwed.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!  We were just going to get it,” Vicky whined.

“Vicky, it’s okay,” Michael consoled, touching his girlfriend’s arm.  “So we have to wait a few days.  It’s not _that_ big of a deal.”  His tone said he was trying to convince himself of the fact as well.

‹At least a week.  Perhaps even two, so the device can completely recharge,› Aximili said.

“What?!”

Vicky was not finished, asking hopefully, “Can’t you just give it to us? How likely is it it’d break just on us?”

“Didn’t you listen to Ax?” Rachel demanded, hands on her hips at getting in other girl’s personal space.  “If Elfangor does give it to you and it’s too much, the blue box is broken and we lose our edge.”

“Get out of my face, you –”

“Why don’t you make me?”

I quickly set my tail between the two of them.  ‹That is enough.›

Paul interceded.  “Look, guys, I know it sucks, but you’re going to have to wait it out.”

“But –”

“Sorry, Mike,” he said softly.

“Gah, this is so not fair!  Lewis gets everything first!”

“If you hadn’t given it to those prisoners,” Vicky muttered.

Aximili smiled, looking pleased.  ‹So in two weeks, you can receive the Gift.›

“Couldn’t it be sooner?” Jake asked.  “It doesn’t have to get fully charged.”

‹True,› he reluctantly agreed.  ‹But it would be better for the three humans if they received the gift at such a time.  They would be able to morph immediately.  The others should wait a few days so they do not stress their bodies unduly.›

My brother!  He could write fiction better than any I would ever know.  I was smiling slightly now.  ‹Is that so?›

‹Yes.  I read the research paper on it for an assignment in school.  It was new, so you should not be surprised you didn’t see it,› he added.

‹I often do not keep up with research, that is true.›

There was some muttered swearing, but eventually the humans drifted away.  Some were consoling, others were smug.  This was going to be an argument for some days.

‹You did not have to lie to them, Aximili,› I said privately, tucking the device into its bag.  ‹Giving three more humans the Gift would not have damaged me much more.›

‹I did not do it for you, Elfangor,› he said, though his tail twitches said otherwise.  ‹I did read an article on it.›

‹And I believe it said there _was_ no limit on how many could receive the Gift in a time span of three days, not the contrary.  But perhaps I was mistaken.›

Fur raised in a blush, he muttered, ‹It is better to be safe than sorry.›

‹Yes, it is.›  I looked at him.  ‹If you did not do it for me, then why did you tell such a tale?›  Not that I believed him, but I was curious as to next fabrication.

Aximili looked taken back before saying, ‹One, I do not _like_ those humans.  It is unfortunate five of them already received the Gift.›

Smiling, I probed, ‹And two?›

‹If I can tell War-Prince Jaham this, that you listen to me, that I argued towards the ideals of our people and of _Seerow’s Kindess_ , perhaps he will trust me more.›

My surprised stare said more than I ever could.  ‹Aximili, you are cleverer than I.›

Smugly, he said, ‹It is about time you realized it, big brother.›

I cuffed him with my tail.  ‹Watch yourself, little one.  Watch yourself.›

 ****

Perhaps it was not a wise course of action, but I only reported the contact with the Andalites to the children, Eva, and Matilda.  (And Toby Hamee, of course, as I, in good conscience, had to keep her informed.)  I did not consider the other humans to be an important factor, the adults because, aside from the lingering hostility, they did not fight, and the other humans, morph-capable or not, were not in my true confidence.  It would have been like a meeting of Princes to discuss plans inviting _arisths_ to sit in.  The meeting, I believe the humans say, would have been above their pay-grade. 

The children were pleasantly optimistic, always having looked towards the arrival of Andalite reinforcements as a positive.  I agreed with them.  Matilda also looked pleased, except she kept shooting me looks.  Eva, as her nature and perhaps experience, was instead suspicious. 

“So they’re really coming now?”

‹That is what War Prince Jaham said to me,› Aximili replied.

“In those words?” Eva pressed.

Aximili scowled.  ‹ _Yes_.›

“You think he’d lie to Ax?” Cassie asked.

“Andalites don’t have a great history with honesty,” Eva said before I could respond, and I glared at her only moderately, having grown used to the comments about my species and unable to muster any more righteous anger.  “And they don’t have a great record with sharing their plans with cannon fodder.”

“So you’re saying what, Mom?” Marco said, trying to understand.

“Eva’s just being paranoid, giving worst case scenarios,” Matilda responded.

The former host scoffed.  “Someone’s got to.  And despite what Elfangor and Ax say or actually believe, you can’t trust Andalites as far as you can throw them.”

‹I am so glad our relationship has such a sturdy fountain,› I snapped.  ‹We are not saying anything but what Aximili was told.  Ellimists know I wouldn’t trust War-Prince Jaham, and I’ve told my brother to attempt to get in his good graces to learn more.  But I do believe a ship has been sent here.  He wouldn’t have lied about that.›

“What are you saying about this Jaham?” Jake asked.  “He’s not someone we can trust?”

‹He is a … a ruthless politician,› I said, trying to explain in simple terms the little I knew about Jaham without exposing my own personal worry.  ‹He doesn’t care about personal reasons or preference, but orders and obedience.  And he is on the War Council now, dedicated to defeating the Yeerks.  I do not know anything about his means, but I do know he is not someone you cross.›

“So you’re screwed,” Marco said.  And then it was clear he wished he hadn’t.  The humans were silent, staring or glaring, and my brother was avoiding looking at everyone.  Marco tried to recover, “I-I mean—”

‹My outcome will be the same, whether I face him or another official,› I said with a flat tone.  Then, desperate for a bit of lightness, I added, ‹Although, at least my actions have made it so Aximili must communicate with him.›

My words didn’t have the desired effect.  In fact, the awkwardness seemed even heavier, especially for my brother.

“How soon can we expect the Andalites to arrive?” Toby Hamee asked, thankfully turning the discussion to the most important matter.

‹I would hope by a month’s end, but there is no guarantee.  Hopefully Aximili will learn more.›

Aximili straightened.  ‹I will endeavor to do so.›  He hesitated.  ‹By any means that I can.›

“You’d better.  Earth isn’t ending up like the way they tried to fix the Hork-Bajir world,” Eva said.  Toby Hamee did not flinch, but her expression hardened and she looked at me.

‹Prince Alloran was not acting under orders!› I defended.

“So that we know.  Andalites love covering up their dirty secrets, don’t they?  A secret mission to clean everything up.  Do your people even know what Alloran did on their world?  I’ll bet not,” she said smugly.

Aximili was standing with his muscles tense, quivering with the insult, but I could not toss aside the words because they rang with the truth.  The People _didn’t_ know what caused Prince Alloran’s original shame.  And I was reminded of the last mission with Andalites, with Intelligence Advisor Arbat, Coward Gonrod, Pardoned-Prince Aloth, the non- _aristh_ Estrid, and their virus.  Nothing ordered by the Council, and yet, they were on Earth with orders for an “assassination.”  Another mission the People would never know of, another that “never happened.”

‹That is why we must learn everything we can,› I said, voice steady to keep from betraying myself, because suddenly this was a very real worry to me.  Would War-Prince Jaham make such an order?  Would the War Council?

The possibility of knowing the truth terrified me.  Yes, I did horrible things in this war.  I knew I had to bloody my tail, do things that weren’t pleasant or even honorable.  But I did have lines.  I would not sacrifice an entire world or species, I would never have thought to use a Quantum virus.

But … was I deluding myself?  These were all pretty ideals, but I was not being tested or being ordered.  I remembered reading a human study on obedience to authority figures called the Milgram experiment when I was masquerading as a college student.  At the time, I scoffed at the humans who had gone against their basic principles to continue to “shock” the poor student because they were ordered to, to the “harm” of the student.  But … would I act any different if the War Council had ordered me in person?  Disobeying their orders without seeing them was easy.  Disobeying when I was faced with them and their punishments immediately ….  Was I really strong enough to stand by my principles, or was I an untested Prince Alloran?

“So are we keeping this secret, or can we tell the others?” Cassie asked, drawing my attention back from such unpleasant thoughts.

The others looked between themselves.  “Is there any reason we shouldn’t?” Tobias asked.  “They’re fighting with us now.”

“Some of them, anyway,” Rachel muttered.  “Not that they’ve done _that_ much.”

“Come on, Rachel,” Jake scolded.  “They did good helping us free some Hork-Bajir.”

Rachel crossed her arms and remained unimpressed.  I didn’t know how the other humans had fought, as I did not join in with every Hork-Bajir raid.  With the addition of five humans, there would have been too many warriors to be effective in close quarters. 

‹There is no reason not to tell them or your parents,› I said, ‹or your people,› I added to Toby Hamee, only to be complete.  I was not giving her permission, and she knew that.  ‹I merely had no desire to have a large meeting.›

“Sure, that’s your reason,” Matilda smiled.

‹Not everything I say is a lie.›

“Unlike other Andalites,” Eva sniped.

“How about,” Matilda added coyly, crossing her arms, “when certain Andalites _lie_ to about giving the power to the rest of the humans.”  She looked at both of us.

Aximili, inexperienced, gave himself away both visibly and verbally.  ‹Wha—how—that is, we did not lie, Loren.›

“ _Right_.  And I have a bridge to sell over the Thames.”

“You lied?” Jake asked.

‹ _I_ didn’t lie,› I responded.

“Why?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah.  I mean, I hate them too, but we need all the fire-power we can get,” Rachel added.  “We can’t waste time!”

Eva, surprisingly, hadn’t made a comment about the proof of alleged Andalite honesty.

‹If I want to get into Jaham’s graces, I have to be able to tell him _something_.  Telling him I have some influence over Elfangor could be helpful,› Aximili said quickly.

“You know, you could just lie to him, Ax-man,” Marco said, rolling his eyes.  “You can do it.  I know you can.  Hell, if not, I’ll give you a few good ones.”

‹But apparently I cannot get away with it,› he said, scowling at Matilda.  She smirked.  ‹If a human figured out I lied, War-Prince Jaham would see it immediately.  He would know I am disobeying his orders, possibly even be aware that I am telling my brother and you everything.›

“Mom was the only one would knew,” Tobias offered.  “And that’s probably because she can tell when Elfangor lies.”

‹I _did not_ lie.  I merely went along with Aximili’s story,› I said.

“Even still, we can’t dick around.  Give them the power now,” Rachel said.

“Have you spoken to War-Prince Jaham yet?” Toby Hamee asked.

‹Not yet.  I am to contact him in two days.›

“Then we can wait until then,” Toby Hamee said, looking at me.  “We cannot risk losing contact with him, and two days is not long, and three warriors, while needed, are not that many.”

“So, wait, the box doesn’t really have a limit or need to recharge its batteries?” Marco asked.

‹Aximili, it is your story.›

He shot me a look.  ‹Not … precisely.  The research said it could be used to give ten thousand individuals the Gift within five days without any loss of effect.  Anything higher, the research only speculates.›

I nodded.  ‹Yes, this is how I took the research as well.›

‹You said you did not keep up with research while a ship,› he muttered.

‹Considering that piece of research is almost a decade old, I believe I can be forgiven.›

“Since the box isn’t going to die anytime soon, perhaps we could address another issue,” Eva said.  “Getting more forces.  More than the rest of those kids.”

“Like the army or National Guard?” Rachel asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.  “Yes, that’s exactly what we need.”

“Assuming they aren’t already infested,” Jake pointed out.

“If they were, it’d be game over, and you know it,” Marco said. 

Eva brushed back her hair.  “We’ve been seeing convoys of trucks and Humvees coming into the city for days for no reason, based on the human news.  Men in the Guard are being ordered to report.”  She met my gaze, telling me what she thought that meant.

“Do you think it’s possible the government knows about the Yeerks and is preparing?” Cassie asked, and then said after a long pause, “No, you don’t think so.”

‹Even if they were, the Yeerks would know and already be mounting a counter.  It only takes one Controller in the ranks to report to Visser One.›

“So then, what?” Rachel asked.

“Weren’t you listening?  It only takes one Controller.  You get some official who says, yeah, you all come here and go down into this cave and put your head in the water and be our slaves,” Marco explained sarcastically.

“It could be a covert training mission,” Matilda offered.  “Neither of the above.  Just the National Guard coming here because it’s on the way, nothing to do with Yeerks at all.  I _know_ it’s unlikely, but it could be,” she defended at Eva’s look.

“And if it is, do you think Visser One’s going to let a golden opportunity pass?” she countered.  “All of our defenses conveniently parked on his front yard waiting for infestation?”

“He’s probably salivating,” Marco said.

‹Andalites don’t salivate.›

“Not unless they’re human and in front of food.”  There was a round of smiles while Aximili sniffed.

“So however they are now, they’re probably going to be made into Controllers soon,” Jake said grimly, returning to the point of the matter.

“This would have taken months to plan, if he had,” Eva said, her face twisting at the unlikelihood of Visser One being patient for that long.  “Planned or not, he’s going to jump at this.”

“He’d jump over it, you mean,” Matilda said.  “Why stop at the Guard if you can get the army?  Why the army if not the government?”

“It’d take months to get everyone quietly,” Cassie said. 

“So we have to stop it!” Rachel exclaimed.  “Stop it now, at the start.”

‹Can we?› Aximili asked.  ‹Even if we include Michael, Emily, and Vicky, and then all of the Hork-Bajir, do we have enough numbers for such a huge operation?›

That quieted everyone, until Eva looked at me.  “We would, if we got more humans.”

‹Such as the parents?› I said, sarcastic, before shaking my head.  ‹There is little time, and where could be find any number of humans who are, for a certainty, not Controllers and would be willing to fight?›

Matilda opened her mouth, then shut it before opening it again.  “We don’t _have_ to have people who can morph.  Just people who can fight.”  She shrugged.  “We are saving the National Guard.  They owe us and are trained to fight.  Not aliens, I know, but we won’t have to hunt out people who’d be willing like we would if we gave them the morphing ability.”

It was an impressive argument, and the humans were pleased.  Yet it did have its flaw.  ‹If we tell the human military, the Yeerk infestation will step up.›

“They’re already going after our military,” Eva said.  “It was going to it already.  At least this way we’ll have the first move, instead of responding to everything.”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Jake agreed.  “But even if we get the Guard, that’s not enough.  We get a few to follow us, but that’s not everyone.  We need to get the person who controls the National Guard.  The Governor.  We get the Governor on our side, we get the whole Guard.  And then the rest of the government.”

My stalks rose at what the humans were proposing.  Full-disclosure to the humans.  I was in enough trouble, especially with the ghost of War-Prince Jaham on my tail, and they wanted me to do this.

“Though I think we still need more of us as well,” Eva added.

“What if the Governor is already a Controller and _did_ give the order?” Tobias asked.

“Then we go and kick his butt!” Rachel said.

‹Her,› I corrected almost at the exact second Matilda did.  The children looked at us with confusion.  ‹Your governor is a female.›

“Or a very, very confused man,” Matilda said cheekily.

“Whoa, that is so cool.  The highest elected official in our state in a woman,” Rachel breathed, impressed.

‹You did not know that?› Aximili said, aghast.  ‹Is not her portrait hung prominently in all of your educational facilities?›

‹She was recently elected.  They probably do not even know her name,› I said.

By the shifting, I was right, and Aximili could not believe it.  ‹How can you not know who your leaders are?›

“The problem with America,” Eva said, shaking her head, though a smile tugged at her lips.

“So … what is her name?” Cassie asked.

“Governor Grey-Davis,” Matilda answered.  “And, to be honest, that’s about all I know about her.  Not her party or anything like that.  Not even her first name.”

‹Sharon.  Her husband’s name is Francis Joseph Graham Davis, and she is a Democrat.› 

“That’s just scary.”

“Okay, we all failed Civics except Elfangor,” Marco said loudly.  “Do we think _she_ is a Controller?  That could be why the National Guard’s here.  And heck, perhaps she might invite the President over for dinner? Heck, even the Queen for tea and crumpets! Cream, sugar, Yeerk?”

“Marco, calm down,” Jake said.

“Calm down?  I am calm.  Perfectly.  I’m just pointing out, if Visser One wants the National Guard, he’s going after the Governor as well.  Badda bing, badda boom.”

I sighed before pulling myself straight.  ‹Marco is right.  We have little time to do what we must.  The human warriors have to be defended, and we have determine the Governor’s allegiance.›  I looked at Toby Hamee.  ‹How many Hork-Bajir can you spare?›

“Many.  We have been planning to liberate the Hork-Bajir that guard The Sharing headquarters.”

‹Very good.  We need to distract Visser One with as many nuisances as possible while we attempt to save the human forces.›

“And the Governor?” Jake asked.  “Another group going after her?”

I nodded.  ‹I will go.›

“Not alone,” Matilda added meaningfully.

After a pause, I agreed.  ‹Not alone.›  I looked at the humans.  ‹We are not recruiting them now.  Just keep the humans away from the Yeerk pool.  If we get Governor Grey-Davis, we can get the National Guard then.›

“We need to give the others the morphing ability now then.  We need all the help we can get,” Eva said.  She looked at Aximili.  “You’ll just have to get really good at lying.”

“Yes,” Toby Hamee agreed.  “In the least, you can tell him of our actions instead of that.”

Aximili didn’t respond and neither did I.  Reporting that I had revealed myself to a human government official was nearly as bad as giving humans the morphing ability.  There were too many ways it could be taken by Jaham.

‹Bring the other three humans.  If it would not be an inconvenience, they can merely acquire a Hork-Bajir,› I said, not asked, of Toby Hamee.  She nodded anyway.  ‹Later on they can go to acquire other forms.›

“Are we going to tell them the truth?” Cassie asked.  “They’re going to ask why they can get it now.”

“No,” Eva said, surprising me.  “There’s no reason for them to know.  They just need to know we need everyone now, and Elfangor agrees the risk of ruining the cube is not high.”  Looking at me, she said, “It’s better is fewer people know how that thing works anyway.  Right now, everyone thinks an Andalite has to work it and it’ll break if it’s used too much.”

“Besides,” Matilda added, lips quirking, “if we tell them the truth, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

 ****

We were going to drive to the Capitol.  I had no desire to fly as an animal, not the two hundred miles needed, and I doubted Matilda had an appropriate avian form.  Besides, driving was pleasant.

Armed with Howard’s two guns, we borrowed the King’s car, after spending far too much time playing with Champ in the underground park.  Matilda was more pleased than me, and once we were in the car and on the road, she said, “I was afraid he might have forgotten about me.”

“You should not think so poorly of his loyalty.  Champ would not forget about you.  You are rather an unforgettable creature.  In a good sense,” I added.

She laughed.  “Nice recovery.” 

“Thank you.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“I found the Governor’s schedule for the day,” I said, shifting in my seat to pull out a sheet of paper before handing it to her.  “We are lucky it is not the weekend.  Who would know what her plans would have been?”

Matilda read it over.  “So we’re just going to walk in?”

“If that is an option, yes.  I see no reason to overly complicate things.”

“Good.”  After tucking the paper over the visor, she sighed.  “I hope everyone will be okay.  I feel like we got the easy part.”

“Perhaps.”

We were content to be quiet for much of the trip, listening to the radio.   Once we had to stop and let a train pass, and both of us looked but said no words when we saw tanks and other military weapons on it.  My hands were tight on the wheel, knuckles white.

Near the end of my time limit, we passed a gas station connected to a Burger King and stopped for gas and food.  While I went to refresh myself, she ordered and was already waiting for me with the food and drinks.  We ate on the road, not willing to waste time, and fought over the fries and almost spilt the drink we were sharing.

Finally, we reached the capitol, and in the distance we could see the domed building.  I parked the car in a garage and we walked to the building, staring up at it.

“Okay, so we’re here.  Now … how do we see the Governor?” Matilda asked.

“They are giving tours of the building.”

She gave me a look.  “And how is that going to get us to see the Governor?”

I shrugged.  “Perhaps they will show us where her office is.  Once we find that, we could sneak in and wait.”

“I suppose that’ll work.”

We lined up for the tour, though I slipped away to again refresh my time.  The tour was boring and not very educational to our cause.  We did end up passing the office, which was corded off and guarded, and left the tour soon after that, having learned what we needed.

“So how do we get inside the office?”

I consulted the schedule.  “Her office should be empty right now, actually.  We could sneak in via the windows, or even the air ducts, maybe.”

“So no weapons?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Matilda covered her face.  “You make everything difficult.  And I so did not want to meet the Governor in my leotard.”

“It will be fine.  And I think it looks nice on you,” I offered. 

She glared at me.  “You, just no talking.”

“Wha—”

“Shhh!  No talking.”  She straightened her hair.  “Well, let’s get inside.  With clothes and guns.”

 ****

We waited in the office for some time.  There had been a temporarily unused room above that proved a very nice area to cut the floor away and let us drop down.  Hopefully no one walked directly on that bit of carpet.  It was unlikely, since it was under an end table, but you never knew with humans.

Matilda amused herself by sitting behind the desk and pretending to be the official, asking me if it suited her.  I had smiled and said nothing, examining the décor and literature that was around.  Later she dug through the drawers and read things that citizens probably shouldn’t.

“I think this says we’re getting our taxes increased!” she said, affronted.

‹Do keep your voice down,› I scolded.

“Hush, yourself!  And look here, can you believe –”

‹You shouldn’t read those.›

“I’m in the chair, I can read anything I want.  This is where the most powerful woman in the state sits, after all.”

‹After being elected.›

“Pffffffft.  Details.”

We might have had more conversation, except voices were coming closer to the door, and then it was being opened.  Matilda gasped and ducked under the desk, while I moved back to hide partially behind a closet door I had opened.

The door open, I could hear the conversation between whom I assumed was the Governor and a secretary.  She asked the other person to bring her files, before conversing with another human I couldn’t see, telling him to go get a coffee while he could. 

We were lucky, I realized, as she stepped inside alone and shut the door.  Once the woman stepped inside a few paces, Matilda peaked over, to the surprise of the Governor.  “What?  Who are you?  What are you doing in my office?”  She moved towards the door and started to call for security, before I jumped forward.

‹Please, do not call for the authorities.  We need to speak with you.›

Her eyes widened with shock and Matilda jumped to our side.  “We won’t hurt you.  We need to talk.  Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

Grey eyes darted over me, landing on my tail.  “Harmless?”

“Relatively.”

“Who are you?  _What_ are you?  What are you doing in my office?”

“My name’s Loren, and this is War-Prince Elfangor.  He’s an Andalite.  An alien.”

“Apparently.”  She moved warily past us to lean against her desk, eyes dancing between us.  Matilda gave me a worried glance.  “You wanted to talk to me.”

‹Your planet is under attack.›

“What?”

“Blunt, Elfangor, very blunt.  Just … be quiet and let me handle this.”  She paused, thought, and then said, “Earth is under attack.”

Though she couldn’t have seen it, I shot her a look.  Exactly _how_ was that different than my statement?

“Right,” the Governor said, another glance at me.

“Not by the Andalites, by the Yeerks.”  She sighed.  “This is going to take a long time.  Could you, perhaps, cancel the rest of the day.  And not think we’re crazy.”

She nodded and made to sit behind her desk.

‹Don’t sit down,› I said suddenly, rushing to stop the woman.  ‹There might be an alarm button.›

The Governor had frozen at my movement, while Matilda looked at me.  “Oh my God, really, Elfangor?  Too much T.V.”

I refused to feel embarrassed. 

“Forgive him, Governor.  You know aliens.  They believe everything they see on the box, unable to tell reality from fiction.”

“I understand the sentiment.  And,” the Governor smiled shakily, “there is an alarm button.”

If I had been human, I very well might have stuck my tongue out.  As it was, I stood smugly while Matilda gapped.

“Even if there was, you didn’t have to tell him that.  You have _no_ idea about his ego. Here,” she said, grabbing the chair from behind the desk so the Governor could sit.  “Look, now she’s far away from the nasty button, so go guard the door so the women can talk.”

Glaring, I did as I was _not_ ordered, though I did notice the Governor smile slightly.  From my vantage point, I alternated between listening to the hall and the two humans.  They spoke in quiet voices, Matilda explaining everything as well as she could.  The usual emotions crossed the Governor’s face – disbelief, skepticism, fear, possible acceptance.  

“So parasitic aliens are attacking Earth,” she summarized, her tone even, “and they can be anybody.”

Matilda nodded.  “Yes.  The guy taking your coffee order, the clerks, the guy on the bus, your family.  Anyone.”

“You can’t expect me to believe this.”

“Can you explain him?” she asked, pointing to me.

‹Turn on the news.  I am sure by now there are reports of our people tormenting your troops,› I offered.

The Governor’s eyes were hard on me.  “Why would you be bothering our people?”

“Elfangor, don’t try to help,” Matilda scowled.  “Look, we’re trying to save them.  All the National Guard movement, why is that?”

The Governor was confused.  “There hasn’t been any movement that I’m aware of.”

“Trust me, they are crawling all over our city.  Everyone could tell you that.  We couldn’t find any memos about training missions or whatever, so that means we have a problem.  The state’s defense is in prime Yeerk territory, ripe for the taking.”

The other woman was still frowning, before asking if she could call someone to learn about this.  Perhaps there was a reason.  Matilda and I exchanged a glance before I nodded my head tightly. 

The phone call was short, the Governor curt and growing upset she wasn’t getting any answers.  Perhaps it was out of habit, she demanded the other person to report to her office, as if she was the school principle.  After she slammed the phone down, she looked at us.  Then said the graceful, “Oh, damn.”

“Elfangor, just morph.  We can do this,” Matilda said, though I was already morphing.  The Governor’s eyes went wide watching the process, disgust and awe present while I returned human.  Matilda already gathered my clothes and handed them to me.

“Is that a gun?” the Governor demanded sharply.

“Yes.  Trust me, the Yeerks are packing worse.  You should have brought a tie, Elfangor.”

Ignoring the statement, I finished dressing rapidly before tucking the gun into an easily accessed location.  “Watch what you speak, Governor.  You never know who you can trust.”  And given this was the person responsible for sending the National Guard to the city, it was unlikely it was someone we could trust.

We had just taken our seats when the door was knocked and the Governor, shooting us a quick glance, bade the knocker to enter.  Who entered was a middle-aged human dressed in the suits favored by those who worked in such locations, utterly unremarkable.  Two other humans followed him, both younger and also without discerning features.

“Madam Governor, who are they?” the man answered, tone sharp.  He might have had a military background.

“That is not your concern, Watergate,” she answered smoothly, and it came to me she at least had the sense not to show she didn’t know our names.  “Why has the Guard been employed without my knowledge?”

With angry glares at Matilda and me, he first tried to deny any and all knowledge, and then, failing that, determined to pass it off as a thing the military must do at times.  The talk had only been going on for a mere ten minutes before there was another knock at the door and another man entered.  The Governor blinked.  “Frank, what are you doing here?”

“I came to visit, dear,” Frank said, coming near enough to kiss the air around her cheek.  “And who are your guests, Sharon?”

“Concerned citizens.  Now why are you here?”

While the politician’s husband hemmed and hawed, I shared a significant look with Matilda.  ‹I may be practicing paranoia, as you claim, but this does not settle right with me.›

Matilda nodded imperceptivity, her lips set in a grim line.

Aside from this, there was something else that set my nerves on edge.  I wasn’t in control, merely a bystander, and one that did not have any power in this particular circumstance.  Too accustomed to being in command, being a helpless citizen made me jumpy and powerless.  It was not a feeling I enjoyed, and I knew, if I lived to the end of the War, I would not like my retirement for that aspect.

“Just exactly who are your guests, anyway?” Frank asked.

“I told you –”

“It is okay, Governor,” I interrupted smoothly, stepping forward.  “This is Ms. Matilda Rusch, and my name is Alan Fangor.  A pleasure to meet you.” 

“Alan Fangor?” he repeated, glancing down at my hand before narrowing his eyes.

“Yes.”  I took back my hand, suddenly wary.  “Have you heard of me?”

“Only in passing.  It is a pleasure to place the name with a face.”  He looked towards his wife.  “Dear, you don’t know, but we’re in the presence of one of the most brilliant computer operators in the western world.  Perhaps even the whole world.”

“An exaggerated claim,” I demurred, trying to remain poised.  Behind me, Matilda shifted.

“You must have supper with us tonight, with your charming lady.   Or to join us tomorrow at our party.  What do you say, dear?”

“Now Frank …”

“That sounds like a splendid idea, sir,” I agreed.  “What time should we arrive tonight?”

“Alan …”

“Come now, Matilda.  How often can you say you’ve been invited to dine with the Governor?”

Frank smiled.  “Indeed.  Would six o’clock be all right?”  At my nod, he continued, “We’ll send a car for you.”

“Thank you.  We’re staying at the Holiday Inn on Webster Street.  We’ll be waiting.”  I turned to Matilda.  “And we should leave, I think.”

She nodded, quickly coming to my side.  “It was nice to meet all of you.”

The Governor frowned at us, but agreed.  “We can continue our conversation then.”

“Yes.”  ‹And Governor,› her eyes widened at my voice, but she quickly composed herself, ‹be wary.  Only very few know about Alan Fangor and his expertise.  And most are not on the side of humans.  Do not be left alone with anyone in this room for extended periods.  Trust no one.›

We left the room quickly.  Matilda opened her mouth, but I shushed her.  ‹Not inside.›

Her mouth snapped shut and her face was hard.  We were a block away before she spoke.  “We can’t just leave her alone with them!” she hissed.  “They’ll make her a Controller!  Which we don’t want.”

“I know,” I snapped back.  “But what could we have done?  We were trapped in a government building.  If we attempted to attack, we would have been cornered and shot at by both sides.”

Matilda brushed her hair back, growling.  “They’re going to make her into a Controller, which means that the Yeerks will be able to order more forces to get infested.  What’s worse, you got us invited to dinner and infestation.  We’re going to walk into a trap.”

“Can you not think of it as them walking into a trap instead?”  At her expression, I continued.  “We could come prepared.”

“With what, two guns and my good looks?”

“The former would offer more use than the latter.”

Scowling, she said, “And if they infest the Governor before then?”

“It is unlikely they would do so now,” I said, with more certainty than I truly felt.  “It would be easier to infest three people at once than to split us up.  They would have to hold her until a Yeerk can be brought up, and there in such a building, the risk would be great.  She is a powerful woman here and holding her would cause complications.  Better to take her in her own home.”

She snorted.  “That’s a pretty theory you don’t even completely believe, Elfangor.  You, looking at the less-worse-case-scenario.  Let me tell you what’ll happen – they take her now, then know you’re you and just shoot to kill when we come tonight.”

“Only if I’m lucky.  It would be better for us to be taken alive, to learn about our resistance.”

“Then they only need me.  You can still get killed.”

I smiled.  “Your concern is touching.”

“Shut up,” she said, pushing me.  “Do you really think that’s how it’ll go down?”

“We have a better than fair chance, I believe.  It still stands that they would have to get a Yeerk for her, and by ship or human transport, that is a couple hours.  It would be easier to keep her unaware of her future.  Unless …”

“Unless she buggers it up.” 

“Yes.”

“She won’t,” Matilda said with a certainty.  “She’s a cool one, I think.  Just what we need in this world of hot-heads.”  She sighed.  “It’s not fair, that the one chance I’ll every get to dine with anyone important, this happens.”

“It could be worse,” I offered, though unsure of exactly how.

She caught my lie and raised her chin.  “Well, even if it’s a trap, I’m doing this right.  Come on, we need to get better clothes.”

“And weapons.”

“Heels basically cover both.  And as a torture device.”

I shook my head.  “You cannot run in heels.”

Matilda laughed.  “I know.  I’ll break my ankle.  And then you’d have to rescue me and the Governor.”

“I would not rescue you.”

“What?” she asked, hurt for a moment.

Smiling, I added, “I would not need to.  You are very apt at rescuing yourself, a both fortunate and unfortunate gift.”

She laughed at me.  “Unfortunate?  How?”

“One cannot be a hero if one cannot rescue the girl.  Isn’t that what humans believe, anyway?”

“And you always want to be the hero.”  Smiling, she took my arm.  “Actually, I like it when the girl rescues the guy.  The other way is so cliché.”

“That so?”

She winked at me.   “Perhaps not for us, because Lord knows I’ve had to rescue your blue tail more than I should have to.  Now come on, time to shop.”

“I thought you rescued me, not threw me to the wolves?”

 ****

We sat waiting for the car in the lobby, nervous.  After all, this was a trap we were walking into, even if we hoped to spring one of our own.  However, both of us were very able to do the math – two of us versus and unknown amount of them.  We spent a few minutes watching the news, growing concerned over the children, other humans, and Hork-Bajir as they made their attacks that kept the National Guard busy and away from the Yeerks.

“We are so screwed, you do know that?” Matilda asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“You really think we’ll get out of this alive?”

“I hope so.”

She gave a little laugh.  “And you know, for a while I thought I got the easy part of the mission.  Talk the Governor and tell her everything.  How hard can _that_ be?  I forgot I was going with _you_.  You add like five layers of complication and danger.”

“I beg pardon.  Though, all that matters is that I can get out of those alleged layers I bring with me.”  I fiddled with my tie, loosening it.  “I do not understand why I have to wear this noose.”

“Because –”

“I know it is professional,” I interrupted.  I had worked in a professional setting where ties were expected to be worn.  Until I was informed that, while it was professional, there was no reason I had to wear one on days when I wasn’t going to meet anyone from outside the company.  And someone later pointed out I only had to wear it when I was in the presence of said people, which meant I could store several in my desk until they were needed.  “I just do not see the wisdom in wearing something that could choke you if someone grabbed it in a fight.”

“Fine, next time we’ll get you a clip-on.”

“You expect there to be a next time?”

“No, but there probably will be.”  She smoothed her skirt and shirt.  “Even if this is a trap, we’re eating with the Governor.  We have to look nice.  It’s expected.  That means a tie.  And a clip-on would have been tacky.  If we ever meet the President, you can’t wear one.”

“But you said I could wear one,” I protested.

“If we meet another governor.  There are only forty-nine more.”

“I do not see why you should tell me what I am allowed to wear.  I am an adult with a reasonable amount of fashion sense.”

She patted my knee.  “It’s because you a guy with a reasonable amount of a fashion sense.  The curve’s lower for that gender.  Oh, I think that’s our ride.”

Out the glass door, I could see the dark limo pulling to a stop and both of us straightened.  “Do you have everything?”

“Purse, gun, pepper spray, remote to the bombs, make-up.  I think so.  You?”

“I am adequately prepared.”  I stood and helped her to her feet before escorting her to the vehicle.  Once outside, the driver opened the door for us and we were allowed to slip inside.  We weren’t alone, and I blurted, “Madam Governor?”

The woman nodded at us.  “Mr. Fangor.  Ms. Rusch.”  The door was shut and the driver went to get in.

“Well, this is an honor,” Matilda said awkwardly once the car started to move.

“Please don’t start with that,” the Governor said sharply.  “You have no idea the kind of day I had after you left.”  Her eyes fell on me.  “You think my husband is one of them.”

“I do.  The Yeerks have always expressed an interest in acquiring my alias, because of my alleged background.  I have always been able to slip away.  However, near the end, they were more eager.  There is no reason a normal human, no matter who they are, should know about me or my profession.”  I paused, and then added, “I am sorry.”

“I never even noticed,” she muttered, sounding angry at herself.

“You don’t, you’re not supposed to,” Matilda offered. 

“Then how can you even tell who is the enemy?”

“We usually figure it out once they start shooting at us.”

“What she means to say is,” I said, “we don’t know until the final moment.  Anyone can be taken at anytime, as well.  Trusting someone today does not mean you can trust them tomorrow.”

The Governor sat back with her eyes sharp.  “And what’s going to happen at this dinner?”

“There’s a good chance they will attempt to infest us.”

“Then why are we going there?”

I sighed.  “Because we have no choice.  If we did not arrive, you would have been taken in either case because of today’s questions.  Now if none of us arrive, they will presume the worst.  Normally, we would run, but we cannot. You are the Governor.  We cannot hide you, and we cannot let you be taken.  You are an important human and one of the few that can offer significant help.”

Her lips quirked.  “Flattery, huh?  I like it.”

“From Elfangor, that’s damn-near praise,” Matilda smiled.

“So what are we going to do?”

“We are armed and prepared, such as we can be.  We can easily handle five Controllers, if we have the element of surprise.”

The Governor’s expression changed.  “Five?  There will be more than that.  My husband invited more guests.”

Alarm crossed my features.  “Who?”  She named some names, and the blood left my face.  So did Matilda’s.  “Stop the car, stop the car.”

“Collins, pull over for a moment,” she ordered through the phone, and we were all silent until the vehicle ceased moving.  “What’s wrong?”

“Visser One.  That is what is wrong.  He will be present.”

Matilda gripped my arm tightly.  “Elfangor, this is different.  We can’t go against him alone.  He’s going to have dozens of men as back-up.”

“Who’s Visser One?”

“He is the one in charge of taking your world.”

“He’s insane.  Literally,” Matilda added.  “Dangerous.  And he can morph.”

“Can he be reasoned with?  I’ll take that as a no.”  Her lips were pressed into a thin line.  “So what are we going to do?  Running isn’t an option.  I’m not leaving my state in his hands.”

Impressed with her honor and care of her people, I sat quietly.  “We need to be protected.  Is there anyone you know of that can be trusted to guard you with their lives?”

The Governor sat quietly, thinking.  “I looked into hour men when I was alone.  Lieutenant Colonel Larsen and his men have been practicing maneuver in the desert for the past two weeks.  They’re scheduled to come back tomorrow.”

My eyes glinted with the knowledge, but that wasn’t enough.  “They will not be able to get here in time.  Is there anyone else?  Someone who had been out of the state or country for over three days?”

She looked into her purse and pulled out a small planner, flipping through it with her lips pursed.  We sat for several minutes until she smiled broadly.  “I’ve got it.  Major MacDonald just got from a week-long Interpol conference in Paris and he took some of his officers.  I can call him and we can pick him on the way.”

“So we get one more person.  I was hoping for a few more,” Matilda said.  “Like several _hundred_ more.”

I agreed.  “Can you think of anyone else?”

“No.”

“So what do we do?  I do not want to go against Visser One without some form of back-up.  Hell, I don’t want to at all.  Being his prisoner once was enough.”  She shuddered at the memory.

“I will not allow that to happen to you,” I promised, taking her hand.

The Governor spoke after a moment.  “From what you’re saying, there’s no way we could actually win if we went to have dinner.”

Turning my head back to her, I sighed.  “The odds would not be in our favor.”

“Then we won’t go.  I will not walk into losing.”  She picked up the phone and said, “Collins, go back to the office.  Just do it.  I’ll explain when we get there.”  And then she dialed on her cell phone.  “Frank.  Hi.  I’m not going to be able to make it to dinner.  Something came up at the office.”  She pressed her lips together as she listened to the other end.  “Make my apologies, Frank, but these things happen.  I don’t _care_ who he is, I have a job to do.”

Another pause.  “No offense, Frank, but I think Mr. Fangor and Ms. Rusch wanted to dine with me, not you or your friends.  And _what_ could they have said to me, Frank?” she asked, tone suddenly sharp.  “What are you thinking, Frank?”

Hearing only the echo of the voice, it was impossible to understand what was said.  Yet it did not please the Governor.  “Good-bye Frank.”  And in the midst of his rebuttal, she clicked the phone off.  “He was calling you terrorists.”

“In his defense, he would not be far from the truth,” I said.  “We have been forced to – ow!”

“Shut up, Elfangor.”  Matilda leaned forward, the offending elbow set on her knee.  “This isn’t going to go away, you know.  They’ll be after you.”

The woman was not distressed, or at least she did not show it.  “So what are we going to do now?”

Still rubbing my side, I said, “First, you shall have to make some calls … and then we shall have to be prepared for them to come to you tonight.  Visser One had you in his sights and was certain of victory, and he will not take this set-back well.  Not well at all.”

 ****

The Capitol building was no more pleasant in the latter hours of the day than in the earlier, though there were fewer humans about.  Presently, there was a minor council of war, though I ignored it to stand guard at the window.  Hidden by the curtains, it would take a keen eye to notice an Andalite, and very few humans had keen eyes.  Behind me, Matilda and the Governor were trying to convince the newly arrived humans – our theoretical allies – about the hidden war and the existence of aliens.

Even with my true form apparent, some somehow managed to disbelieve.

“This is all crazy,” one of the humans said.

“Trust me, I know,” Matilda agreed.

“The world’s under attack and no one knows.  You can’t be serious.”

I saw Matilda frown and shoot me a look, before she must have rethought asking for my assistance.  “It is, and there’s a good chance we’ll be under attack in even less time.  I’ve gone my life without a Yeerk in my head, and I’d like to keep the record.”

There was no reason to tell her the truth, so I let the statement pass.

“How do we even know you’re not the enemy trying to take over Earth?”

The Governor stood up, having finished her last phone call.  “That’s enough, Richardson.  MacDonald, this is serious.  You know me and how I stand.”

“I know you believe this, Ma’am,” the man said diplomatically.

‹Does that mean you will not believe your own eyes?› I asked, stepping back from the window.  ‹We have company, ahead of schedule.›

The humans rushed to the window, looking out.  “Is that Corporal Stevens?  That rat-bastard!”

MacDonald’s face was tight, and Collins spoke what he and I had noticed.  “There are too many of them for us to fight effectively, if we have to.”

“… Who is that?” one of MacDonald’s men asked.

Matilda’s pale face looked at me.  “Elfangor …”

‹I know.›  I could sense him.

“What?” MacDonald demanded.

“That is Visser One.”

“He doesn’t look like much,” the young Richardson commented derisively. 

I stepped behind the young human.  ‹And do I not look like much as well?› I whispered harshly, and the man jumped.  ‹And he has morphs of nightmares.›

“Prince Elfangor, please stop scaring the lieutenant,” the Governor said, intent eyes on the humans below.  “They’re coming in.”

“So what are we going to do?” Matilda asked.

There were too many humans entering the building, too many, and just as many staying outside to guard the exits.

“We need to call in the civilian units,” Collins said.  “And Ma’am Governor, we have to get you somewhere safe.”

“There is no place in this building that will be safe, none that any of those men don’t know about.”

“What makes you think there’s going to be an attack?” Richardson demanded.

“Because, you fool, there’s dozens of men out there for no reason,” MacDonald snapped.  “Whether or not this is an _alien_ invasion, it’s an attack on our Governor.”

“Could someone _please_ get to calling the cops?” Matilda interrupted.  “I can hear the footsteps.”

‹We have to get out of this room.›

“How?  We’re trapped,” Collins demanded while MacDonald ordered one of his men to phone the police.

‹Our entrance.›  I moved to a corner, to where the hole I had made early was still present.  ‹Ma’am Governor, you first.›

“What the hell happened?” MacDonald breathed, looking up at my handiwork.  Then his eyes fell on my tail.  “You did that?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of an Andalite’s tail,” Matilda said, helping the Governor onto my back and up through hole.

“It’s solid granite!”

“It did take him ten minutes.  Your turn, Collins.”

Andalites are not made to be used as foot stools, but I didn’t complain.  Thankfully, the remaining humans could hoist themselves up without additional help, and once everyone was up, I started morphing to my bird.  Unfortunately, it was not in time, and the door was knocked up, then entered roughly.  I barely managed to get under some furniture.  ‹Go, run.  I’ll catch up.›

“Where is she?” Visser One demanded, turning to the Governor’s husband.

“I-I-I don’t know, my Visser.  She’s got to be here.  She said she was –”

“Silence.  Find her!  We don’t have time for your excuses!  And find those other two humans!”

“Yes, my Visser.”

The room was evacuated in short order.  Completely a bird now, I stayed where I was, trying to calm the racing heart and remain level-headed.  Birds, unfortunately, are naturally very jumpy animals as a whole, prone to leaping to the safety in the skies.  In this form, I would be easily dispatched, and if the Visser saw me, he would know I was here.  Well, perhaps not _me_ , but he would know why the Governor suddenly had to cancel her dinner.

Visser One moved across the office and appeared to settle in, to my detriment.  Escape would be impossible if he stayed in the room, and even if I chose to fight him, there was no way he would not become aware of me before I could adequately defend myself. 

Gunshots suddenly echoed, and I attempted to fly through the couch, which is not advisable.  Visser One rushed back to his feet and to the door, demanding answers, and I took the chance to fly to safety.  I quickly demorphed and, to my distaste, started to morph human.  Running around as an Andalite, despite being better armed, would only tell the Controllers I was, obviously, the enemy. 

Desperately out of breath as my human form appeared from morphing so much in such a short time span, I looked out into the hall.  I could hear the muffled yelled commands and pounding footsteps.  Blasted, and I was not even armed, and being seen in my morphing outfit was not going to keep the questions at bay. 

How was I to find the others? 

Ah, yes, by following the gun shots, I realized as more sounds fired.  As quickly as I dared, I started down the hall, keeping low.  My feet made slapping sounds on the cold stone floor.

It was pure luck I caught the Controllers unaware.  They had been coming down the hall towards me, and the shiny stones reflected their approach.  When they were just to come around the corner, I jabbed my elbow out – a method that hurt quite a bit – and caught one in the throat.  He fell to the ground, choking, while the other was surprised, and then acquainted with my fist.  As he fell, I grabbed his weapon, a Dracon beam, and with a practiced ease turned it on the Controller.  To my surprise and luck, it had been on stun. 

I stunned the other as well, removed his weapons, and then dragged the two behind a plant.  There was no way it would hide them, but it was all I had time for. 

A Dracon beam in one hand and the human gun in the other, the remaining Dracon beam  tucked in my waistband, I moved again.  I could hear others in this building, and I could also distantly hear the sound of sirens.  The cavalry, hopefully.

Following the sounds of yelling, I ran into other Controllers that I easily dispatched, though most not without a minor exchange of fire.  Pausing after a last volley, the hallways echoed with approaching footsteps, and I leaned against a pillar, ready to surprise.  However, the voices made me hold my fire and I entered their sight.

In retrospect, I should have given them some form of warning.

“No!  Don’t shoot him!” Matilda yelled, at MacDonald.  The man, unfortunately, was trained, and despite her attempt, he fired.  It caught me in the shoulder and my breath lost as I staggered back, dropping my weapons as my sight darkened. 

“Elfangor, Elfangor, are you all right?” she demanded, rushing to my side and putting her hand over mine to help stem the bleeding.

“You … ask the most … ridiculous questions!” I gritted, forcing my eyes opened.

“You’re fine.  Come on, we’ve got to move.”  She yanked me, gently but it still hurt, grabbing the weapons.

“I’m sorry,” MacDonald said gruffly.

I vowed to shoot him when this was all over,  just to even the score.  We staggered and moved, and the Governor had also come to my side to help me, but I did not need it.  I could work through this pain.  Collins was also injured, or at least he had blood on him, and Richardson had a blackening eye. 

“The police are almost here,” Matilda said.  “We’ve almost got help, just a few more minutes.”

“Provided they’re on our side.”

“You are such a little raincloud,” she laughed forcefully.  “We just got to keep running.”

The problem with such a plan was that we were running in a circle that growing tighter.  Controllers were surrounding us.  Even with MacDonald at point and Collins on our six, the two younger officers on either side, we were surrounded.  We could hear the Controllers approaching, even as the police were parking and on their loud speakers.

It wasn’t a surprise when we were forced into a room.  In the middle of barricading the door, someone on the other side shot it with the setting on high, sending bits of flaming wood out like shrapnel.  Before we could gather our wits, Controllers poured in with their weapons pointed at us, demanding us to drop our weapons and to our knees.

Outside on the lawn, there was a firefight.  Our reinforcements had their own difficulties.

And ours were having an addition.  Smugly, Visser One walked into the office.  “We have led us all on a merry chance, Governor.”

“You have to realize you’re trapped.  The police are outside, ready to break in,” the Governor said bravely.

He smiled at her smugly.  “My people are out there as well.  They will not get in fast enough to rescue you.”

“Making me one of you won’t help, not with all of this.”

He laughed.  “It would have been easier, yes, but if we kill you, we can take whomever takes your place.  You are easily replaceable.  And they said you are tough-minded.”

“You won’t take our planet,” Sanderson snapped.

“I already have.  It’s only a manner of time.  In a few short months, I’ll …”  He stopped, his gaze suddenly intent on the human next to me.  “ _You_!” he said breathlessly.

Matilda frozen next to me, but her courage did not fade and she met his gaze.  Only the tightening of her grip on my arm showed me she was feeling any terror.  Such actions can only serve to show my admiration for her is not foolishly done.

“It _is_ you.  Loren,” he continued in a soft voice, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, it is.”

Visser One, despite his track record, was not a complete idiot.  No doubt everyone saw when he pieced it together and looked at me, though my hate-filled glare probably offered some assistance.  “Elfangor,” he hissed.  “It’s you, isn’t it.”

There was no reason to speak.

He laughed.  “This is a surprise!  We come to get a puny human government official and capture the great Prince Elfangor.  It always was a matter of time.  No words of bravado?”  He did not wait for any words I might have, which there were none.  “I shouldn’t be surprised that you cured your little pet human.  You always were a soft touch to her and this worthless species.”

He preened in front of us.  “Finally, I have captured you.  And soon I will get the rest of your warriors.”  He smirked.  “Human and Andalite.”

“To think, it only took three long years for you to figure it out.  And meeting me several times in the form to discover it was me,” I said back.

His humor evaporated.  “Silence!  It is over for you and your bandits.  The only question I have is whether I should kill you now, or let you witness as I torture and kill all of those under you.  I could kill her now, your little pet,” he said, pointing.  I had to keep myself still, because if I even attempted to attack, the numerous weapons pointed at me would have ruined it.

“Or perhaps I could take you as a new host.  Alloran has proven useful, but he is getting old.”

“ _Never_ ,” I spat.

His laughter rang loud.  “I think I will.  I would take pleasure in breaking you.  Will you take longer to break than Alloran?  I hope so.”

Matilda gripped my arm and pressed against me, but I was shaking with anger.  And fear, yes.  I couldn’t imagine a worse future, the damage I would be forced to do, the never-ending gloating of Visser One, being trapped in my own body.  Perhaps I should just jump.  At least I would be killed in a fight, not as a helpless prisoner.  Even though I was weaponless … and it was with this thought I remembered.

“… um … Visser One, the humans outside, they’re almost through our lines and will be inside soon.  We have to –”

“ _SILENCE!_ ” he roared, turning away from us to yell at the underling.  With the distraction, I moved my hand slowly and pushed the necessary buttons.  “Can’t you fools deal with these primitive humans at all?”

“But Visser ... our men are being overrun … and the media is present.  We’re trapped in this building.”

“Imbeciles!” He whirled.  “Kill them.”

“Even the Beast?” someone said, eagerly.

The Visser smirked at me from over his human shoulder.  “Make him beg for it.”

“I will not beg.  And I will not wait and let you chose my death.  How fast can you run, Esplin?” I asked, lifting my hand to show the Dracon beam set to overload once my finger left the last button.

“You were supposed to take their weapons away!  Can’t you idiots do anything right?”  I straightened on my knees and raised my arm higher, heedless of the pain from my injured shoulder.   “You will not do it, Elfangor.  Not you, oh so noble Elfangor.  Kill these humans?”

“There are going to die anyway.  I am going to die.  Why should I not take out you and your men as well?  I am not scared to die.”  I moved my thumb slightly, to the increased hum of the over-worked weapon and the nervousness of the others around us.  Even Visser One stiffened as the whine reached its new pitch.  “Are you?”

“You won’t,” he repeated, uncertainty quavering.

“You know I will.  If I have to.  Leave now, if you want to live.  I don’t care how.”  I smiled slightly.  “How did I say it those years ago?  Ah, yes.  In exactly ten seconds I will raise my thumb.  At this distance, it will take less than two microseconds for your body to be obliterated.  Anyone or thing within five hundred feet will be as well.  And you know I don’t bluff.  Ten.  Nine.”

Visser One looked at me with pure fury.  There was nothing he could do.  Ordering them to shoot me would only hasten their deaths.  “Everyone, get out,” he yelled over my continued counting.  The Controllers scrambled to get away, a mad crush.  “This isn’t over, Elfangor,” he vowed before he attempted to leave calmly, but it was run, make no mistake.

“Oh my god, I’m so going to kill you when you make it so that thing does not kill us,” Matilda whispered harshly in my ear.  “And I think I just peed myself, don’t you dare tell anyone.”

I waited for a few minutes before I carefully discharged the overload.

“Is it safe?”

I nodded.  I shouldn’t have.

“You stupid, arrogant son of a bitch!” she screamed, punching me in the shoulder.  “What were you – oh, shit, sorry.”

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I said, “I am never saving your ever life again.”

“Is it over?  That’s it?” Richardson asked.

“It’s far from over,” the Governor replied.

“No, it isn’t,” Matilda agreed, trying to fuss over me while I pushed her away.  She had done enough damage to my person for one day.

“How dare you try to put the Governor’s life in danger like that?” MacDonald scolded.

“Major, back-down.  I know he didn’t have any choice.”  She picked up the Dracon beam and looked at it, holding it gingerly.  Such care wasn’t needed.  After over-loading and then safely disarming, the weapon was worthless, the power supply depleted.  “I don’t know what I’m going to say to the reporters.”

“Can’t you just tell them the truth?” one of the young officers asked.

“If she speaks the truth, aside from being considered a laughingstock, it will mean Visser One can stop with his relatively silent campaign,” I said.

“He already knows I know about him,” the Governor said.  “I think he’s done with guerilla tactics.”

“The Governor’s right,” MacDonald agreed grudgingly.  “This country – and this planet – is in danger.”

“So what are we going to do?” Collins asked.

The Governor sighed.  “I’ve got a speech to write.  And troops to deploy and transfer.”  She looked at Matilda and me.  “Will you be all right?”

“We shall be fine.”  I smiled slightly.  “This is merely a flesh wound.”

“How are we supposed to contact you?” MacDonald asked.

“ _We_ will contact you.  Soon.   My warriors will create a secure channel.”  I looked at my partner.  “We should leave before the police arrive, to prevent uncomfortable questions.”

“Right.”  Matilda looked at the others.  “It was great to meet you all.  I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“I, as well.”  The Governor held out her hand and they shook, before extending it to me.  After a moment, I carefully took it.  “Prince Elfangor, it was … a pleasure to meet you.  Thank you.”

“It has been an honor, Ma’am Governor.”

While I demorphed, Matilda morphed.  And when I was myself, I bowed to the Governor and her compatriots before morphing as well.  Once fully avian, we escaped through a window Collins conveniently broke for us.  And behind us, the cavalry arrived.  Late, as usual.

 ****


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old Allies and New Traitors

Our other half had not fared better than us.  Toby Hamee had lost many fine warriors, and, while the human warriors hadn’t dwindled in numbers, their spirit had been severely tarnished by the rough battle.  Still, we all gathered around the television to listen to the Governor’s speech.  It was a pretty one, saying what needed to be said and saying it well. 

“And you think it was rough last night,” Marco said, finally breaking the silence that had settled on all of us now that the full of the public knew the truth.  “Visser One is going to all out now.”

‹Yes, he will.›

“But the Andalites are coming,” Emily said hopefully.  “They’ll be here soon.  Right?”

I spoke calmly, ‹While they are coming, we do not know if they will come in time to help us.›  Because the cavalry is always late.  ‹Until they are here, we rely on ourselves.›

“We can do it,” Paul said.  “Last night was rough, but we won.”

“Or at least held our own,” Jake corrected. 

“Thanks to the Hork-Bajir,” Tobias reminded quietly.

‹We will have to rely on the allies we have,› I agreed.  ‹Now, though, all of us will relax until the next battle.  Which will be far too soon.›

“Amen to that,” Marco said.

Slowly, the human warriors all trickled away.  After speaking to Aximili about the need to make a method of communication between the human government, I said I was going to feed.

I did not get too far into the woods when a familiar voice asked, “Did you mean what you said about allies, Prince Elfangor?”

The forest shifted and there was Erek the Chee.  ‹Why are you here?› I asked, suspicious.  ‹Why didn’t you make yourself known in the Valley?›

“Because this, I thought, you would prefer to hear alone.  I have a message from Elphaba and Leonardo.”  My confusion must have been evident.  “The former Visser Four and Getna Eight-Six-One.”

I did not need this, and my aggravation must have carried in my thoughts.  ‹What do they want?›

“They want to help you, Prince Elfangor.”

Somehow, I could not believe the former Visser wished anything more than my painful death, and I couldn’t even remember which human was the other former Yeerk.  ‹Do they?  And how is that?›

He smiled.  “They have been in contact with their friends, and those friends also wish a way out of the war.  Or, for some, a way to get away from Visser One.”

My eyes were wide.  ‹Why would they do that?›   How could they ask others of their species to become _nothlits_?  Was this a trick?  It had to be.

“Leonardo is taking it as a way to destroy Visser One.  He’s become … rather bitter and, rather than blaming you, or at least completely blaming you,” Erek allowed when I rolled my stalks, “he blames Visser One for not destroying you before you could ruin his campaign on Leera.  Also, he’s got a strong sense of self-preservation.  If Earth is taken, _he_ will become a host.  He’s gotten a strong motivation for you to save Earth.”

‹And the other one?›

“Elphaba actually is more concerned with saving her associates.  Do not misunderstand, she was never part of the Yeerk Peace Movement and scoffs at the idea of allowing the host equal control, but she is, relatively, a pacifist.  And she likes her new life and wishes to save her former friends from dying in a battle they will not even benefit from.”

‹I see.›  Unable to help myself, I couldn’t help asking, ‹Which one was she?  I cannot remember.›  After Erek briefly described the young Asian _nothlit_ , I sighed.  ‹Ah, her.  And can I ask, where did she find her name?  I thought Leonardo was strange, but at least that I have heard of in Earth history and culture.›

“It is the name of the Wicked Witch of the West.”  Erek laughed at my expression.  “It is from a new book that tells the witch’s side of the story from the Wizard of Oz.  Her former host had read it, and she decided to choose a unique name, once that few, if any, humans would also have.  It being the name of the Wicked Witch was only an added bonus.”

Somehow, it was remarkable how similar different species could be.  I could think of several others I knew who would have done the same thing.

‹And how many of their friends have they spoken to?› I asked, because I could not avoid it.

“Over one hundred are interested, and Prince Elfangor, the number is growing.”  Erek looked at me full in the face.  “Already there is a mass underground secret that, to any Yeerk who will accept the morphing ability and be trapped in a form, you will give it to them.”

‹I made no such promise!› I exclaimed.  ‹I promised to help them, yes, if they needed it!  Not … not that!›

“Nonetheless, that is what is being said.  I do not know how many, if any, higher ranking Yeerks know, but it is already being spread off of Earth.”

‹No,› I breathed.  My future was (even more) destroyed before my eyes.  If it was off the planet, rumor or not, my people would hear of it.

Erek gave me a sympathetic look.  “I am sorry this took you by surprise, Prince Elfangor.”

‹There is another reason the former Visser is doing this: he will destroy me in the process.›  I walked away, trying to maintain my calm.  The Chee was silent, letting me take the time to process this.  ‹This is a greater risk.  If any Yeerk attempts to trick me, they could attack or even take the _Escafil_ device as their own.›

He realized I wasn’t saying no, but I wasn’t saying yes either.  “You will have to speak with Elphaba and Leonardo about your concerns.  I am only here to deliver the message.  The Chee can still offer assistance.  We can still read the Yeerk’s motivations before you give them the ability, if that is what you wish.”

Of course I would wish it, but I shook my head.  ‹It is too huge an operation.  It was with merely half the number of Yeerks, to give them their desired species and histories.  I cannot do it all again, not now.›

“I’m sure they will understand that argument,” Erek agreed.  “They only want to meet and discuss it with you, Elfangor.  But I would not be surprised if suddenly you are asked in the middle of a battle.”

‹That is not funny,› I said, spying his grin.  ‹You ruin a perfectly good run with news like this.›

“I know.  I have other news too, that is less pleasant.  I would recommend that you do not use your Alan Fangor morph in public anymore.  Since Visser One has learned the truth, all of the Controllers know what he looks like and will be looking.”

It was lucky I had several human forms, but it was still an annoyance.  Alan Fangor was set as a preferred human form, one I did not to put too much effort to morph.  Another human morph meant I had to concentrate on which one I actually wanted lest I end up combining them into one.  ‹At least I did not take the form from any one human.›

“Unfortunately, there are several humans who bare a slight resemblance,” Erek added, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty.  “It is not your fault, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Perhaps not.›  I closed my main eyes and took a deep breath.  ‹Do they have a meeting place in mind?›  Erek gave me the location of a hotel some thirty miles away.  ‹And I suppose they already have a time in mind in which I must appear.›

“They do acknowledge you are busy,” Erek said, reproachful. 

‹I am sure they do.›  However, I did not believe they would think it should matter with regards to meeting them.  ‹I believe I will be able to slip away tomorrow evening and can be there at nine.  The others will believe I am taking a late run, so my disappearance will not cause curiosity.›

“You would not discuss this with them?” the Chee asked.

‹Not _now_ ,› I said testily.  ‹After the meeting.  There is no reason to call a council to say I know nothing.›

Erek nodded politely, but I sensed he did not agree with my logic.  “I will tell them to expect you then, Prince Elfangor.”

‹Wonderful.  Thank you.›  Somehow, my sarcasm remained strong, and I begged his indulgence so that I could feed.  It was the only excuse I could think of, and I was not looking forward to tomorrow night.

 ****

My lips curled with disgust as I looked at the hotel.  It was a rundown little place that possibly charged by the hour.  At least when _I_ made meetings in hotels, there were at least of a three-star quality, not _this_ negative-star.

The inside was not much better. 

I looked around from the small lobby, searching for the two _nothlits_ I was to meet.  It was terribly rude of them to at least not be waiting for me.  Not that they would know what I would look like, but it was the concept.  Normally not being met by the other side at an agreed meeting place would send me into thoughts of worry of betrayal or trickery, but the Chee had confident things were secure.  And given that there were two outside waiting should I need them, there was adequate backup. 

Growing impatient for a meeting I had no desire for, I asked the attendant behind the desk which room they were present in.  Armed with the room number, I climbed the steps, checked the number, knocked, and, once allowed to enter, entered.

“You’re late,” Kaplin said before I even got a foot into the room.

“Leonardo,” the other occupant scolded.

There probably weren’t two better-dressed beings in this entire building, and I forced myself not to feel inadequate because of my own wardrobe of sneakers, jeans, and a dress shirt.  “I only promised to be available after nine.  It is not my fault my message was not passed on accurately.”

“We understand, Prince Elfangor,” the woman, Getna some-three-numbers a.k.a Elphaba, said politely, setting down her cup of drink.  “Can I offer you some tea or coffee?”

I almost asked what flavors were offered before politely declining.  However, she ignored me and poured a cup.  “It’s Bourbon Truffle flavored, I’ve run out of Tiramisu.”

Not wishing to take it, but rather undone by the delicious scent and preferring not to appear rude, I took the cup and, daring the poisons and drugs, took a sip.  I very nearly died of the bliss.  It had been too long since I had been able to enjoy flavored coffees.  Even if the Valley had been conducive to such an action, the rest of the humans would have left none for me.  Controlling my expression, I said stiffly, “Thank you,” and sat in the remaining chair.

Kaplin made a sound of disgust.  “ _Now_ that you’re here, let’s get down to business.”

“Yes,” I said after another drink, emptying my cup with one gulp and setting the ceramic aside.  “Let’s _discuss_ how you could dare spread rumor that I would give the gift to any other Yeerk.”

“Don’t pretend you won’t, Beast,” Kaplin sneered with a smile.  “You know you will, that you’ll do anything to destroy our dear Visser.  Even this.”

I glared.  “You are too bold.”  Even if it was likely the truth.

“Even if we have numbers in the hundreds who want it, who will give you information in exchange,” Elphaba asked, pouring herself another cup.

“Hundreds?” I repeated, both mocking and with disbelief.  Erek had only said one hundred.

“Hundreds,” Elphaba repeated, “and growing more each day.  Even if you do not want to, you cannot pass up the promise of information.  Especially now the Governor has made her bold claim and panicked the state.”

Kaplin laughed.  “Those that believe her anyway, the fools.”

“You are the fools,” I snapped.  “How can you plan to give hundreds the Gift and their desired forms?  It was a challenge to give that you your lot.”

The two of them shot me a look.  “We can manage, if an Andalite can.”

“Why should our friends be forced to continue to fight?” Elphaba asked.  “You already support that damned Peace Movement, those fools with their ideals about sharing, and yet you will not support us?”

“If things were different, _they_ would not attempt to kill me or my warriors.  You ask me to make a devil’s bargain with only faith and truth and no pixie dust.”

Neither of them understood my comment.  Kaplin stood up.  “Ah, the great Andalite trust,” he spat.  “I told you it would not work, you fool.”

Elphaba glared between the both of us.  “Be quiet, Leonardo.  He hasn’t said no.”

“Yet.”

“He will.”

“Will I?” I asked.

“Yes, because whether or not you can trust those Yeerks, you will take part because you are different.  _You’ve_ already given us the ability, not to mention your humans.  Clearly Andalite law is not your concern, but ending this war by any means necessary.  And that, Prince Elfangor, is where we meet.  We’re not going to simper like those of the Peace Movement, keeping in the ranks and doing _nothing_.”  Her face twisted with disgust.  “Pretty fools unable to do what is necessary to save us from the mad fools of the Council, who would have us go to war.  We could have _survived_ and _grew_ if we were patient with the Andalites, instead of attacking the Andalites.  Seerow was a sentimental fool who would have coaxed other fools to our benefit.”

I straightened up in shock. 

“If they had been patient, we could have had everything we needed.  Perhaps we could all have had Andalite bodies.”

“No Andalite would agree to be a host,” I countered, eyes narrowed and trying to understand the logic.

“Not now, because of them.”

“No Andalite would have given up their freedom to be a slave, peace or otherwise.  You have no favoritism for sharing a body, so do not pretend otherwise.”

Elphaba glared.  “I am not!  But some obviously will lower themselves in such a fashion.  And Andalites are so very clever.  They could have made us bodies, better ones.  We could have made allies of the Arn instead of destroying them!  They who created the Hork-Bajir.  Imagine what they could have done for us!  We could have had bodied like the Hork-Bajir, but without the pathetic whining!  They could have made bodies that naturally produced Kandrona, so we would never have to leave!  But no, the short-sighted fools destroy everything!  They are destroying _us_ with this war!”

Her chest was gasping for breath, her color high at the end of her speech. 

“What my impassioned colleague means is that the Yeerk Empire is headed by fools.  Visser One is one of the greatest,” Kaplin said. 

“Think if it had been done differently,” Elphaba continued, eyes bright.  “If we had been open, patient.  We could have taken the Hork-Bajir as friends.  They are simple and stupid and would have let us have them if we were kind to them.  If we had come to Earth openly, there would have been panic, yes, but you know there are humans who would have willingly gave their lives for us!  Thousands, perhaps even millions, enough for half of all the Yeerks.  And we would not have half us being kept prisoner on our own planet by Andalites.”

It was a pretty future that could have been but wasn’t, and I wondered if it ever had a sliver of a chance of occurring.  I did not know the complete history of what happened with Seerow and the Yeerks, only the tragic ending.  Had the relationship been like that?  Could Seerow have done what Elphaba claimed?  I could not disagree that, had the Yeerks chosen a more peaceful route, they would have had more willing to assist them.  Indeed, the Arn might have been open to such a proposition if the Yeerks hadn’t used them for target practice.  Those sorts of actions tended to put a damper on any budding relationships.  After all, it had destroyed the Yeerk-Andalite relationship when they shot our warriors and stole our ships and technology.

“Do you suppose you could keep your tongue still for a moment?” Kaplin growled. 

She laughed.  “And you, _you_ are just terrible, attempting to take Leera.  Imagine if we could have had them as allies.”  Her hand shook with emotion as she took a drink.

“I believe you have had enough caffeine,” I said slowly.

“She’s fallen prey to the human addiction,” Kaplin said with disgust.  “No self-control.”

“So says the Yeerk with a bag of chocolate mini-kisses in the drawer next to his bed,” she countered with flashing eyes.  “Among other places.”

His face turned red.  “Quiet!”

“How can you trust the ones you wish to give the Gift to?” I asked, hoping to waylay an argument I didn’t want to be forced to sit through.  “Not some spy hoping to search you out for Visser One, who must know about all of this by now, and gain the device.”

“We trust who we spoke to,” Elphaba said.  “They would not turn on us.”

“But the others, the ones who are hearing who have no connection to you,” I pressed, leaning forward.  “If I gave you use of the _Escafil device_ , how can you promise it would not be stolen away?”

“You would give it to us?” Kaplin asked, snapping his head towards me sharply.

“Lend it to you,” I corrected, standing to look out the window, not to enjoy the view—there was none—but to avoid looking at them.  Holding the curtain aside, I continued, “As you said, my past record is against me and I would do anything to stop this war.  Even lend the device to you for your cause.”

“It is all we need,” Elphaba said.  “There are so many of our people who will come to us.”

“I cannot be involved in this, I do not have the time.”  I turned my head.  “We’ve been in contact with our people.  A ship is on the way to Earth and will be here soon.”

“And why are you telling us this?” Kaplin asked.

Shrugging, I dropped the curtain closed.  “Does it matter?  They were to arrive someday.  Now you know when.”

“Indeed.”  They were giving looks between the two of them, passing some hidden message.  One shook their head, the other nodded with a shoulder raise, another shake, a nod, a scowl, an eye roll, et cetera. 

“Since you tell us that, we will tell you this,” Kaplin said, finally relenting in the conversation.  “A convoy of Taxxons is going to arrive on Earth in a week.  All the Taxxons on Earth are to make tunnels to the Pool, and Visser One demanded more to expedite his work.  Take _that_ as you will.”

“Once they arrive, we can give the poor souls forced to be in those vile creatures,” Elphaba said, “when you give us the box.”

Taxxons were not a challenge in battle.  Their only proper use was as diggers or as control operators, the rare ones as trackers.  Still, it was useful in that it told me the war _was_ stepping up, and that they would be handled by these two.  I cast a look towards them at the thought.  Or not.  Time would tell.

“Thank you for information.  I should leave.”

“Wait!  When can you give us the device?” Elphaba asked, jumping up to grab my arm. 

She did not have the courtesy to let go when I glared at the handling.  “I will give it to our allies, who will pass it to you.  And who will take it if it is misused.”

“But _when_?” she repeated, delicately painted nails digging into my arm.

“Soon.”

“So you say, Beast,” Kaplin said.  “And let him go, Getna, it is undignified.  The Andalite can’t betray his kind if he can’t leave.”

I offer to assist them, ruining my life and career, and I had to put up with this treatment!  It was not to be bore … but I had to.  Stiffly, I looked up at him, meeting his gaze.  “Yes, I must rush away, so that you may faster destroy your own species.  With love and kindness.”

“We are saving our people,” Elphaba spat, finally letting go.  “Which is more than the Andalites would ever do.”

“And am I the only one who finds it ironic that you need an Andalite to do so?”  My smile was cruel. 

Their matching expressions pleased me.  “How dare –”

Bowing quickly and opening the door, I bade, “May our next meeting be far in the future.  Do have a good evening.”

My grin was broad, but it quickly faded as I trekked down the steps, and my face was positively deadly when I stepped outside towards the hidden Chee.  After I passed the holographic boundary, Erek and his mother came into view.

“How did it go?” the Chee asked.

“Do not pretend you did not overhear,” I snapped, before covering my eyes.  “I apologize, I should not have spoken so.”

“It is okay, Prince Elangor,” Erek said pleasantly.  “You are doing a good thing.”

“No, I am not.  I am destroying a species.  Not that I already wasn’t,” I laughed without humor.  “Come with me to the valley.  I might as well give it to you tonight so this madness can commence.”

Mrs. King smiled and set her hand on my arm.  “What is new and wise always seems mad at the start.”

I did not need her pretty words, and I pushed away from them and crossed my arms over my chest, before rapidly uncrossing them and stripping.  I needed to get out of this form, where all I felt was vulnerable and dirty and weak.

“You are not going to be involved this time,” Erek said.

‹I am involved enough,› I spat.  ‹Do I need to do more?›

“No.  We will watch them for you, and tell you when things are dangerous.”

‹You will take the _Escafil device_ from them when things are dangerous,› I said, turning my main eyes to them.  ‹I don’t care about your code for nonviolence, I don’t care about your beliefs or wishes.  You _will_ take the device from them.  Because if you don’t, you will have damned the planet even more than I have.›

They gave no response to me.  Mrs. King had gathered my discarded clothing.  She left one way and Erek and I went to the Valley alone, still in silence.  We slipped unnoticed due to his hologram and sound dampeners.

In its bag, my arms could barely lift the _Escafil device_ , the weight not limited to the physical.  In handing over the cubed technology to the android’s hands, instead of lightening the weight on my tail, I found I could not even keep it in the air as Erek rapidly disappeared further into the night with the cube root of my disgrace.

 ****

“Are you okay?” Matilda asked, sitting on my back and resting her chin on my shoulder. 

I shot her a look with my stalk but otherwise remained focused on the notes I had made on the map, hoping that her treatment of me would not make the young Hork-Bajir believe they could also climb on me again.  She knew I did not exactly care to be used as a lawn chair, but Matilda did the practice when the grasses were damp.  The first time, a young Hork-Bajir had joined her, and was rapidly joined by friends.   Unable to yell at them to get off, because they were young ones who didn’t know better, I had to put up with the treatment while all the while sending her meaningful looks that she had ignored for several laughing minutes.  Toby Hamee had been nicer and told the younger ones to leave me be.

‹Why do you ask?›

“Hmm, you just look a little … depressed, I suppose.”

‹This war does not generally make me cheery.›

“This is different,” she persisted quietly.  “Is it because of Jarhead?”

‹His name is Jaham.›

“I said what I meant.”  Her arms wrapped around me to point at an area.  “That’s new, isn’t it?”

‹Yes.  The others saw the construction during their fly-over.  It will be operational soon.›

“Damn,” she whispered.  “Is that what’s got you upset?  No, this is too minor.”

‹Minor?› I repeated, turning my main eyes towards her. 

“I grade on a curve,” she smiled before turning serious.  “What’s wrong?”

I looked back at my map.  ‹Nothing.› 

Her grip tightened.  “Don’t lie to me, Elfangor, and don’t keep secrets either.  This isn’t the time.”

‹You mean do not keep secrets from you,› I said with a small smile.

“Exactly,” she said, giggling.  “Now what’s got you dragging your tail?”

I sighed.  There were many things that made my tail heavy these days, but I picked one that was all of my doing.  ‹I do not have the _Escafil device_ in my possession anymore.›

“ _What?!_ ”  She must have realized her volume drew attention – not to mention damaged my eardrums – and quieted quickly.  “What?”

‹I was to tell you and the others, but other things keep occurring.›  A lie.  I merely didn’t want to share the awful truth, and I do not doubt she saw that. 

“What happened to it?  Someone stole it?”

‹No, no.  I would have reported if _that_ had happened.›  I sighed.  ‹I gave it to the Yeerk _nothlits_.  They have amassed a large number of Yeerks who want to accept the Gift and leave the war.›

“Oh.”  She was quiet for a long time.  “That sounds like a good thing.”

‹Perhaps.›

“Hush, don’t be so negative.  Though it does screw our plans for increasing our numbers.”

‹I can get it back,› I protested half-heartedly.  ‹Perhaps I should not have lent it out.›

“Well, not without a big meeting, not that our opinions mean anything.”  Unable to tell if she was serious, I said nothing and she continued.  “Still, if so many Yeerks are going to duck out of the war if they get the chance, I guess it would have been given away anyway.  You weren’t an idiot, were you, and gave it to the bad guys by accident?”

My smile was weak.  ‹Perhaps I did.  I do not exactly trust the Yeerks.  None were part of the Peace Movement and, in other circumstances, we would be enemies.  But I cannot say they do not believe what they are doing is right, that they are trying to save their people.  Still, they are not pleasant.›

“I see.”

‹I did order the Chee to take the device back if it was abused,› I added, ‹though who can tell if they will do so.  Some of them take their non-violence to extremes.›

“Be nice.”

‹I am always nice.›  I closed my eyes, tired of looking at the map of the expanding pool.  ‹I suppose you are mad at me for acting without consulting the others.›

She was quiet, thinking, and her fingers tapped against my arm.  “Well, I can’t say I’m _pleased_ , but no, I don’t think I’m mad.  Like I said, we probably would have done the same thing, but with more arguing and yelling and stuff.  Yeah, everyone will yell now, but presented fait accompli, well, can’t do anything but accept it.  And some of the others will probably be p.o.ed at you – I won’t name names, you can guess – but they’d be mad whatever you did.”

‹Perhaps.›

“You do know, even if you told us upfront, Ax wouldn’t have had to tell Jaham, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I laughed without humor.  ‹If the Chee told the truth, he will hear it anyway.  Rumor is already spreading off Earth about what I am doing.  Trust me, that is only a matter of time before he hears of it and asks my brother.  At least by not telling, he will at least be able to plead his ignorance honestly.›

“Though he’ll be hurt you didn’t tell him yourself.  No one wants to get news like that from that bastard.”

‹You don’t even know Jaham.›

“I know people like him,” she shrugged.  “If you don’t want to tell him, I can for you.  But Ax would rather you tell him, I think.”

I would rather tell Jaham himself that I disobeyed the Law than face Aximili’s disappointment and disgust.

“Elfangor, if you tell him all the reasons for it, he’ll understand,” she said quietly, as if reading my fears.  “I’m not saying he won’t be surprised, but he’s not going to disown you.  Probably not, anyway.”

‹Thank you for building such confidence.›

“You’re welcome.”  Feeling her smile before she kissed my cheek and stood, I turned my stalks to watch her leave.  “I’m going to tell the kids and Eva, at least.  Trust me, the rest of the adults don’t need to know this brilliant move of yours.”

‹And the other humans?›

Her nose crinkled.  “They don’t trust you enough, I think, to believe you did the best thing.  If you did.”

‹And yet you think we would be creating solidarity by keeping secrets from them?› I asked as I stood as well, rolling the map up.

“Oh, don’t go playing judgy-judge,” Matilda scolded.  “I had to drag that dirty secret out of you.  And yes, we will be keeping solid by making sure they don’t make any cracks and stuff.”

‹Sometimes, I marvel anyone understands humans at all.  Or at least you.›

“Ha ha.  Are you coming with me to tell them yourself, now that you know not _everyone_ is going to stone you?”

I would not admit it was nice, a relief, to have her support.  ‹If I do not, you will mock me and ruin their faith in me.  I fear I must.›

“You are such a baby.”

‹I beg your pardon.›

Waving her finger at me and grinning, she said, “You need someone to hold your hand.  But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

‹I do not need someone to hold my hand.›

“No.  Maybe just me.”

‹If it makes you feel better.›

“Elfangor, all that matters is if makes _you_ feel better.  Come along, now.”

‹I am not a child,› I muttered, even as I, to my annoyance, followed her like one.

 ****

Despite her consoling words, I did not think my brother approved of my lending of the _Escafil Device_.  Indeed, his expression when I told the others was the exact reaction of feared.  He had quickly masked it, but, as I kept a stalk discreetly on him, I saw it.  The children were about as evenly divided as their characters would predict, and Eva was most assuredly not pleased with my action.  She very well might have tried to punch me, but instead shouted very rude Spanish at me that drew much attention and made Marco embarrassed.  If I had wanted my actions to remain secret from the rest, it wouldn’t have if anyone else understood the language.  Toby Hamee was quiet, and I was unsure as to her opinion.

But it was rather how Matilda predicted.  After the yelling, things settled down and we could discuss other news.  Aximili reported on Jaham’s most recent news, which was frustratingly vague, and by this time the other humans had gingerly appeared.  They probably approached once they were certain Eva would not continue yelling, as well as being curious humans.  Perhaps keeping to my hidden desire, news of my foolishness did not extend to the newcomers.

With everyone present, it was no real surprise conversation turned to an impromptu council of war, with everyone giving their opinion on the new tunnels to the Pool and what to do about it.  I must take it as a sign of the desperation that the idea of bombing the Pool was appealing to many of them.  My own personal decision was make quickly and I merely stood to listen to what my warriors said.

I will not pretend I have never shot down pools, that I haven’t sent many to their deaths in such a terrible manner.  I would do it again, if I needed to.  But I did not _like_ the option.  It was one thing to kill warriors in battle; it was another to turn on the helpless, on the civilians and prisoners. 

Still, if it had to be done … if there was no other option … someone has to do what has to be done, and I took some small comfort that by damaging my peace of mind I allowed another to retain theirs.

But there was no need to take _pleasure_ in it.

‹That is _enough_ ,› I said darkly, interrupting the warring factions and sending one side an especially sharp look.  Rachel and her supporters were not cowed, but they did me the luxury of being silent.

Vicky, on the other hand, did not. “You can’t do this!” she sputtered.  “It’s … it’s horrible!  An abomination!”

‹Yes, I know it is,› I said, forcing patience.  ‹But, unfortunately, we’ve have reached those lines in this war.›

“You’re making us, if you do!” she continued, eyes darting for some inspiration.  “What do you think the Yeerks will do after you do that?  You bomb them, they’ll bomb everyone, innocent humans and everything.  Everything will be out in the open.”

“It already is, Vicky,” Michael said timidly.  “The government knows.”

“Except now they think the Governor’s crazy,” Travis spat.  “Fat lot of good that did us.”

“Everything will still be out in the open!” she protested.

“Perhaps it is time it is,” Toby Hamee said calmly.  “My people are tired of hiding and are willing to fight.  People will die, yes, but people die in war.  At least we will have the initial choice of who.”

“Isn’t there something else we could do, Elfangor?” Cassie pleaded hopefully.

“No,” Eva said, without waiting for my opinion.  “We’re just striking first.  You don’t think the Yeerks haven’t done this to other places?  Trust me, they have.  We have to destroy them while we have the chance.  All these incoming Yeerks are just adding to Visser One’s little fiefdom.  We have to do it.  We’ll do it clean.  Go in.  Clean house.”

“And maybe,” her husband put in hopefully, “we’ll damage him enough that we’ll get him kicked off the planet.”

‹Destroying the central pool, while a substantial set-back, does not necessarily equate to defeating the Yeerks in any appreciable way in the long run,› I said, giving him a look.  ‹Very well, we get rid of Visser One, whom we know how he operates.  He is replaced by whom with what sort of methods?›

“Then you even think this is a stupid mission!” Vicky accused.

‹I did not say that.  I am saying that destroying the Pool does not mean we will be any better or worse off.  I am saying deposing of Visser One does not make our futures better.  However, at the moment, it is all we can do to harm the Yeerks, so we must do it, be it right or wrong.›

Naomi snorted.  “Fine, you want to destroy half our city, thousands of people, collateral damage, _murderer_ ,” she said looking to me, but more than one other human winced at the title, “how the hell do you think you’re going to get any bombs to do it?  Like the boy said, the Governor’s consent isn’t going to fly anymore.”

Marco offered his suggestion of raiding a National Guard outpost, which made Naomi raise her hands and make a sound of disgust.  “What’d I say?”

“Ignore her,” Rachel said, flippant.  I saw the comment hurt her mother, the pain flashing by quickly.

“How many of us are going to do this?  Breaking into a National Guard warehouse isn’t going to be easy,” Jake asked.

“All of us,” Rachel said quickly.  “We can kick serious Yeerk butt.”

“And risk everyone, on one mission?” Paul asked, giving her a long look.

“We’ll need everyone,” she protested.  “Unless you’re chicken.”

He narrowed his eyes but showed more maturity than my very impetuous warrior by instead saying, “We fuck up, we screw the planet.  Period.  We all go down in a blaze of glory, we just gave the Yeerks no resistance.  I’m not saying no,” he said before anyone could comment, voice harsh, “I’m saying we’re playing for big odds with bigger risks.  Is that what we want?”

“And what about all the prisoners?” Emily asked, voice quiet.  “We’re just going to kill them?”

“Is that going to make our side like us, is what she’s really saying,” Lewis said, which was not, by my ears, what she was saying at all.  “Fine, we destroy the Yeerks, but we kill a bazillion innocent people, that isn’t going to look good on any newspaper.”

“Pyrrhic victory,” Michael agreed.   “We don’t want people thinking we’re just as bad as the Yeerks.”

“Maybe we could give the Yeerks and prisoners time to escape,” Tobias suggested.  “A warning.  It wouldn’t save everyone, but it’d give them a chance.”

“Not that it’d save the people above ground,” Cassie said.

“It’s the best we’d get,” Matilda said quietly, setting a hand on her son’s shoulder, “if we’re going to do this.”

Almost everyone looked at me.  I wished they wouldn’t have.  Even though I am the leader of this little band, even if I’m a Prince, I did not like having my decision being the final vote.  I was a simple warrior, made to do what I was told.  I could lead effectively, but I was more comfortable in letting another make the larger decisions.  But I think, if everyone was comfortable in making such decisions, we would not have very decent leaders.

‹It is something we must do.  We cannot plan further until we learn where we will get the weapons.  After that, we will have to discuss more.›

Some of my warriors were gleeful at the affirmative, others sick and angry.  And then there were others whose faces remained firm and impassive, emotions lost.  Those cut my conscience the most.  With such an order, with such a promise of destruction, an emotion is always warranted.

 ****

‹Jaham doesn’t approve of us trying to destroy the central pool,› Aximili reported later that evening, his thoughts quiet. ‹I’m supposed to try to dissuade you in this course of action.›

‹Dare I ask for his reasoning?› I asked.

Aximili scuffed his back hoof.  ‹Elfangor … he said the high command decided to let Earth become quarantined.›  I barely heard his last word.

I sighed and felt myself deflate.  ‹Have they?›

‹So he said.›  He paused.  ‹You do not sound surprised?›

‹I will admit, it was a fear.  Surely you remember the last mission we had with Andalites sent by the Council, what their _true_ mission was.  Things are becoming desperate, and more than one on the Council is attempting to end this war by less than honorable means.  A sacrifice must be made, and they must believe we Andalites have sacrificed enough.›  I closed my main eyes and dragged my hands down my face.  ‹And so, now, the humans must sacrifice everything.›

‹Elfangor …›

I whipped my tail, slicing a tree in a temper.  ‹No!  I will not allow it!  I won’t be able to call myself an Andalite if that’s what we must do to win!›  The tree crashed to the ground, and I could not even feel the guilt at ending its life.

‹Still so noble, Elfangor?› a new old voice called.

If it hadn’t been so amusing to see Aximili jump and panic, poised to defend, I would have laughed at him, but I was too surprised at the voice.  And then when he came through the brush, my smile was broad.  ‹War-Prince Gafinilan!  What are you doing here?›

‹Coming to your assistance, it seems.  And it sounds like you need all the help you can get.›  He stood tall and broad, in no worse physical condition than when I last saw him.  Perhaps the Arn had been of use to him, but I would not ask, at least not when my brother could overhear such personal information.

We touched blades in greeting before I smirked at my brother.  ‹Aximili, relax your lids before your eyes detach from your stalks.  And greet our guest.›

Aximili still was unable to apparently think coherently, for his stuttered, ‹W-war-Prince Gafinilan?!  I thought … that is … it is an honor to meet you, Sir.›  He awkwardly bowed, looking as if he saw a ghost.  No doubt he thought he was.

Gafinilan smirked.  ‹An honor to see you again, _Aristh_ Aximili.›  Then he turned his attention back to me.  ‹And they say you are a great warrior, Elfangor.  I leave for a few months and come back to Yeerks in a stronger foothold and that you have lost that lovely valley.  If I hadn’t been able to hone in on the transmission, I would never have been able to find you.  At least not before the Yeerks found me.›

‹Did you return alone?›

‹Mertil is with the ship,› he replied. 

‹Why did you return?  Have things become too easy on the Hork-Bajir homeworld and you felt the need for a challenge?› I smiled.

Gafinilan waved his tail.  ‹We have become superfluous with the numerous clones.  The six clones of the Seers are managing their troops well without us.›

‹Six?› I asked, stalks rising.  But yes, that made sense.  Why just one clone, when the numbers were needed, when there always _had_ to be someone who could lead? 

‹You were on the Hork-Bajir world?› Aximili echoed, confused and awed.  ‹And you knew?  Why did you not tell me, tell us?›

‹Do not be angry at your brother,› Gafinilan said, coming to my defense instead of being upset at his impertinence.  After all, my brother was still an _aristh_ , and as such was not required to possess all information.  ‹He did not tell you because we asked him not to.  We were not able to fight then.›

‹Not able to fight?› Aximili repeated, looking at the warrior who was larger than my brother’s and my combined mass.

‹But now you can?›

‹I am as healthy as I will ever be.  And Mertil has excellent computer skills, as he worked most of the equipment on the Hork-Bajir world, and taught much to the Seers after the Arn returned to the world.›

‹We need all the assistance we can get.  If Prince Mertil is close by, would you prefer to be introduced now?›  Would Mertil wish to be in company, was what I was really asking.

Gafinilan indicated the negative.  ‹It is late, no time appropriate to a meeting.  Tomorrow morning would be better.›

‹Agreed.›  I did my best not to let my surprise show.  ‹To get to our new location -- ›

He interrupted me, laughing.  ‹Mertil is already locating it.  As I said, he has learned much from the Arn technology.  Such as locating a Hork-Bajir based on DNA.  And given that Mertil has memorized each Hork-Bajir’s code, finding your new camp will be relatively easy.›

I frowned.  ‹That does not ease my mind to know we could be found by anyone so easily.›

‹Until the Yeerks get and understand such technology, and then has samples of who they were going to find, you would be safe.  Still yes, it was a surprise, but the Arn apparently liked to keep track of their interesting Hork-Bajir.›

Considering popular belief was that they had had nothing to do with their creations aside from creating horror stories to keep them away, it was interesting to learn about the now extinct culture.  What else had been lost?  ‹So it seems.  Until tomorrow, then.›

‹Until tomorrow.  Have a pleasant evening, Elfangor, _Aristh_.›  And then he stepped through the brush, disappearing, and we listened to his hoof beats fade.

Aximili was silent for approximately three seconds longer.  ‹War-Prince Gafinilan!  And Prince Mertil!  Why did you not tell me?  Why did he not fight?  What is going on?›

I gave him a disapproving look before saying, ‹War-Prince Gafinilan was afflicted with _Soola’s disease_.  Before he left Earth, he was losing his sight and in constant pain.  He went to the Hork-Bajir world so the Arn could cure him.›

‹Oh.›  His eyes were wide at the knowledge.  ‹And Prince Mertil?›

‹Prince Mertil was injured when we first arrived.›  My tone had to stay dispassionate. ‹His fighter crashed and his tail was severed.›

Aximili’s quick intake of breath was what any Andalite would have done, the horror and disgust natural as well.  ‹A _vecol_?› he whispered.

‹Yes.  You will treat him with respect when he arrives tomorrow,› I said lowly.  ‹You will not embarrass him or me.  If you cannot manage, stay away.›

‹But … but he is a _vecol_!›

My eyes narrowed.  ‹Yes.  And he is our ally.  Do not disappoint me, Aximili.›

Indecision warred over his features, but finally Aximili gave his agreement.  ‹Of course not, my Prince.›                       

 ****

The arrival of Gafinilan and Mertil sent the whole Valley into something resembling hysterics.  Toby Hamee had been told of their arrival, so that were guards wouldn’t try to stop them.  She had been very interested in the news, desperate for information about her parent world and how it was faring.  Once the humans had been assured that, no, the Andalite Fleet had not arrived, these were just two warriors who had been flying in the area, they seemed able to stay away.  True, several of the warriors didn’t buy the statement, but when Gafinilan cocked his stalks and tail a certain way, their desire to know the truth fell dramatically. 

Matilda was pleased to meet Gafinilan again, and they chatted for a few minutes, mostly by mocking me and my efforts to save Earth, but once the talk turned to how things fared on the Hork-Bajir world, she left to get the other humans.  When she returned with the others, we could discuss our mission, but until then knowledge on how the battle was faring was something to know.  Toby Hamee eagerly listened to the reports Gafinilan and Mertil gave, dismayed with the numbers of deaths and set-backs but the gradual promise I doubted they exaggerated set a fire in her eyes.  Knowing that somewhere her clone, or clones, effectively _her_ , was saving the world made her pleased and proud.  Perhaps it was allowable.

In conversing with Gafinilan and Mertil, I learned many things.  The first was that, while healed of his affliction, War-Prince Gafinilan was not in the best of health despite his appearance.  Simple movements put him in pain, the arthritis already having spread so far, and his sight was only slightly better than pure blindness.  The Arn had passed before those faults could be remedied, and neither Andalite knew how to work any of the medical devices with enough confidence to justify using them.  It was not to say Gafinilan could not do battle, but he was not as great as an asset as one might hope. 

Mertil, on the other side of the blade, (no offense meant,) had risen in his abilities to fight.  True, he could no longer battle as a whole Andalite, but his upper body strength had increased because of his reliance on manual weapons.  His abilities at repair had also increased beyond compare, as he had been forced to jury-rig much of the damaged technology on the Hork-Bajir world, and could turn the most unsalvageable materials into workable weapons.  He had turned, Matilda had said, into MacGyver, which made Mertil laugh.  (Apparently, during their first tenure on Earth, while Gafinilan was at work, he had amused himself with television shows, especially channels like TV-Land.)

Among the Hork-Bajir and humans, the wounded warrior was, surprisingly, very comfortable.  However, I noticed how he stiffened and drew away from notice when Aximili was near.  At the start, he also did it to me as well, and it was with much effort that I managed to draw him into conversation while making it appear I did not think less of him because of his loss. 

The report of the Hork-Bajir world, while favorable, wasn’t showing a clear win nor loss.  It was just an attempt that, to the warriors, showed they weren’t giving up without a fight, and to the enemy, that things weren’t all as settled as they thought.  Unless there were more reinforcements, it was unlikely the Hork-Bajir were going to win, but, then again, that it what I had always believed about Earth.  True, we weren’t winning, but look at everything we had accomplished without the Fleet.  Miracles and luck did exist, at least for the desperate hopers we were.

Interested in the conversation – and not fond of paying attention to certain humans in any case – it was a great surprise to us all when yelling occurred, originating from the group of adults.  Jake gave a cry of surprise and rushed to his father, who was sprawled on the ground.

‹What by Ellimists?› I exclaimed, for I saw that Matilda was in a high temper, fists clenched over Steve, and followed Jake.

‹What’s going on?› Gafinilan asked, eyes unable to see the distance required.

‹The humans appear malcontent.  I think Elfangor’s female, Loren, struck a male,› Mertil explained as they followed.

Another time I would have taken exception to Mertil’s explanation, but I had reached the group.  Jean was next to her husband, trying to hold a bit of cloth for him to put to his nose, and Jake was upset and confused.  Most of the humans, upon my approach, had stopped yelling, and the rest stopped when I demanded, ‹What is going on here?›

“Sh’ hit me!” Steve said, pointing a finger at Matilda.

Despite Mertil’s words, I hadn’t taken it seriously, but now I looked at her in shock.  Her face was in a grim expression.  ‹Did you hit him?›

“Obviously.”

‹You do not hit your fellow warriors.›

“He deserved it!  And don’t _you_ dare say I can’t hit people.”

Very well aware of my preferred methods of dealing with troublesome beings, not to mention my own somewhat joking advice to her, I struggled for something to say.  ‹Why did he deserve it?›

She crossed her arms.  “He said something I took exception to.”

Scowling next to her former brother-in-law as she helped him up, I heard Naomi mutter, “You’re worse than your brother.”

That comment rose my curiosity even more.  ‹What did he say?›  She did not, would not say, so I turned to the human male, rather cross.  It must have been very upsetting to have made her strike at him.   ‹What did you say?›

Now to his feet, he almost made to answer, but instead said, “It’s none of your business, Andalite.”

“Hey, why don’t you say it to them?” Matilda mocked, eyes narrowed.  “Let’s see how _they_ take it, huh?”

“Dad, what did you say?” I heard Jake ask quietly.

Whatever was said, it was clear Steve would also not repeat it to his son.  ‹Would _someone_ tell me what was said?› I ordered, looking at the other human adults.

Silence, and then Howard, annoyed himself, opened his mouth.  “Apparently, Doctor boy thought   –”

“It … it was just something said without thinking, Prince Elfangor,” Walter said quickly, overruling whatever the man was going to say.  “Steve didn’t mean anything by it.”

‹Very well, but _what_ was said?›

“Nothing that concerns you,” Matilda snapped.

I gave her a long look.  Considering she had taunted Steve to repeat his words to me, I doubted it was as she claimed, and the expressions on the other humans’ faces supported the theory.  I rubbed my forehead.  ‹Fine.  I do not have time for this.  Both of you, apologize.  _Both_ of you.›

After a moment’s pause, Steve apologized, and then after a longer moment, she followed.  “Fine.  And I’m sorry I hit you on the nose.”  Though her tone made it clear she was only sorry _where_ she had struck him, I chose not to follow the battle.

‹Thank you.  And this is no time for pointless bickering amongst ourselves.  We have a mission to discuss.  And next time,› I said privately to Matilda, ‹take the high road.›

Scowling, she snapped, “Stuff it, Elfangor, and take your own advice.”

Why did I have to deal with humans?

Gafinilan murmured to Mertil, ‹And you see why I like her.›

The other Andalite, upon noticing my dislike at Gafinilan’s amusement in being spoken to in such a fashion, explained quickly, ‹She only reminds him of my little niece, Elfangor.  When we last saw her, she was very little and … bossy for one who was only three years old.›

‹Thankfully for future warriors, she was not born a male!› Gafinilan laughed.

Despite myself, I smiled and said, ‹I doubt they are out of trouble just yet.›  Addressing the group at large, I turned the conversation to the destruction of the Pool, though I made a note to learn exactly what had brought upon her temper.  Whatever it was, I had to make a point not to cross it.

 ****

We had been expected.  There was no other logic that made sense to it.  Someone had purposefully told the Yeerks we were to go to the National Guard base for the explosives, and we had been surprised in our efforts to surprise.  Any attempt to remain hidden to the human soldiers was undone by the appearance of the Yeerks en mass, to the startled panic of the humans and us.  It had been pure chaos initially, until we finally managed to get some sort of organization.

The only reason we won was because of Gafinilan and Mertil.  Gafinilan had not over-exaggerated his friend’s ability to fix broken mechanics and the wounded warrior apparently had spent much of the flight towards Earth creating hodge-podge weapons that Toby Hamee was very pleased with.  It was decided between the two of us that her warriors would use the weapons.  Mine, in morph, would find the rather bulky objects a handicap and most didn’t have the proper digits to work them in either case.  And Gafinilan, even in his current health state, was not a warrior to be ignored.

But there had been too many deaths, Yeerks and innocent humans and Hork-Bajir.  Even my humans had been nearly lost.  Paul had lost half his body from a wild beam, and only survived because of a Hork-Bajir sacrificed herself by dragging him to safety.  Later, comforting him in private, he broke down slightly (and was sick in the bushes) and said he had taught her daughter some stupid game his sister had liked, said he only liked the younger Hork-Bajir because she had reminded him of his lost sister.

‹You didn’t kill her mother,› I said quietly.

Paul glared at me with red, sick eyes.  “I know that,” he hissed.  “ _They_ did it.”

Wondering if I should dare fan the hatred, I let my silence speak for me.

“I have to tell Behma,” he muttered to himself.  I was forgotten to him, focusing on the unpleasant task ahead of him.

He wasn’t the only human injured in such a way.  There were several that nearly or had lost limbs in morph, and one even had her face blown off.  Lindsay would perhaps forever jump at loud noises and I doubted she would be able to continue the fight. 

And I knew who to blame for all of this.  Me.

I was going to _kill_ those _nothlits_ , after this was done and I finished berating myself.  What kind of fool was I to tell _Yeerks_ of our plans to bomb a _Yeerk_ pool?  My misplaced sense of honor told me I should inform them so they could save as many of their friends – and hence the hosts – and either they told the enemy or the enemy was one of their members.  Stupid, trusting fool!  How could I have put my own warriors at risk for some vague notion of fairness?

Yes, we did get the explosives, and we paid in our own serenity.  Yes, we gained the aid of some human military, but we lost our own troops.  War is expensive in ways that extend beyond the monetary, and the costs were beginning to take the toll on the humans, even those who did not fight.  I could only pray our credit would not suddenly be discontinued.

We had to deal with our initial plan of attack.  The deaths wouldn’t be in vain, and we _had_ to strike now, because the Yeerks knew.  Our attack wouldn’t be as devastating as it could have been, with them forewarned, but there was no way they could not suffer from it.  As I told the children so long ago, the Yeerk pool was their center of life.  They could not leave it.  They could only defend it.

Defend it they would, yes.

Listening to Mertil give his expertise on loading the trucks for the most power, watching everyone scurry in the fading darkness, I felt myself fall into that small focused world of self, distancing from the world as I prepared to do this terrible thing.  To quote one of my warriors, it was time to drop a bomb on them.

 ****

I could not rely on the Chee to set up the meeting.  The actions we had just committed on the Yeerk Pool most certainly had severed ties in that direction, and I was not going to degrade either side by forcing contact. 

(Perhaps I was too ashamed of my actions to meet their gaze, perhaps I was angered that because of their programmed nonviolence, _I_ had to take such an action while they remained clean.)

But, honestly, I did not need a Chee – not really – to get contact with the two former Yeerks.  They were predictable and sloppy.  If I had become a _nothlit_ through coercion, I would have immediately created a new identity and then another and another until I was so distant from the given and with so many loops that it would have been impossible to find me.  It wouldn’t have been paranoia, but plain common sense. 

It was painfully _easy_ to find them, to get in contact, to set up the meeting about something I cannot remember through the haze of my temper.  Whatever it was – perhaps something about the _Escafil device_ – they agreed, despite their own anger at our success at destroying the Yeerk Pool.

The second the door was shut, I punched that bastard.  (I should be commended that I waited until the door was shut, as my first impulse was to attack the second the door was opened.)

Kaplin had a glass jaw.

Coming from me, this _has_ to say something.  Despite my human physic and the strength inherent to it, I had no talent in fisticuffs.  Perhaps the surprise aided me, but it only took one painful (for both of us) punch to send him down, and I followed him, still punching and angry.

Exactly _who_ I was angrier at will remain up for debate.

Despite Kaplin’s handicap, he now was a strong human and did attempt to fight back, but his abilities matched mine and we must have only scuffled liked young preteens do.  Not that we didn’t cause each other damage, but, all in all, it was minimal. 

Somehow or another, his cohort Elphaba got between the two of us and separated us.  If she had not chosen to be female, I doubted I would have ceased as easily as I had.  However, my upbringing – both Andalite and human – had stressed not striking females or the young, and despite my anger at their betrayal, I could not strike her. 

Unless she started it.

“What is wrong with you, Andalite?” she spat, knelt down at Kaplin’s side and holding her sleeve to his face.

“He’s trying to kill us, the scum,” Kaplin slurred.  “Like he did to our brothers and sisters.”

Jaw and eye hurting, other pains minor and major that I ignored, emotion had to be smothered and replaced with logic, words that made sense and didn’t make things worse.  “I should,” I seethed, standing away from them so I would not attack again, “after what you have done.”

“We should kill you for what you did,” he retorted with as much anger, “destroying the Pool.  You despicable coward.  Typical Andalite monster.”

“And that is why you told your former friends of our plans,” I glared.  “I tell you vital information to assist your allies, and you use it to get us ambushed!”  My volume was rising, but I could not stop it, no matter who would hear in the next room.  “I _trusted_ you and this is how you repay me!”

Perhaps that was the crux of the matter.  Yes, I trusted them with the _Escafil device_ and my own honor and future, but part of me did accept being burned there.  But then I also trusted them with the lives of my warriors, and that betrayal I could not accept.  Ruin my life, very well, but not of my warriors and friends.

They were staring at me before Elphaba said, “We did not tell those you fight of your plan, Andalite.”

“Do not lie to me!  They knew of our plan, what we were to do.”

“Andalite, dapsin, we said nothing to anyone who would have gone any further,” Kaplin growled. 

“We did not even tell enough and lost many friends because of you,” Elphaba continued, eyes glinting and covered with the dampness of tears. 

“You expect me to believe you?”

“You stupid Beast, whether or not you want to believe it, we’re telling the truth,” Kaplin growled, getting to his feet and shoving the female away.  His red hair swung wildly and mirrored the blood on his face “And you attack us, when we should be attacking you for killing _our_ people like the coward you are.”

“No, instead you have us walk to walk into a trap because you would not do it yourself.”

“If I wanted to kill you, Beast, I would have done it already,” Kaplin snapped.  “We know that you monsters had to destroy the pool if we want to bring the war to the end.  We _sacrificed_ our people to save others, to destroy Visser One.  And despite her sympathies, I don’t care a bit for those who died other than they had the shame of being killed by a pathetic Andalite.”

“Shut up!  They were our people!” Elphaba screeched.  “How can you speak so of them?  Have you no shame, no pity for killing them?  For starving those that managed to survive?”

Kaplin gave her an impatient look.  “They were nothing but fodder, all of them, and you know it.  Servants.  It’s their job to die, if necessary.  And if they starve,” he continued, teeth sharp and perfect and tinged pink with blood, “they will come to us to much easier, won’t they?  It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She nearly jumped to attack him.  “You vile monster.  You Vissers are all the same, destroying us in your games!  I can’t believe I allowed myself to ….” She trailed off, sickened.

“But you did, because you _need_ me,” he mocked.  “Stupid little deck officer with no real talents, no knowledge, no idea how to lead and command.  What’s needed to be done to win.”

Her fists were clenched.  “I would rather be a nothing than a monster like you, no better than Andalites!”

Listening to them argue, part of my logic dimly accepted that perhaps they had not purposefully told.  “If you did not tell, then who did you inform that would have?” I demanded.

They turned their attention back to me.  Elphaba answered me, quiet.  “None of those we told would have, Andalite.  We could only save thirty-seven, those we could reach in the little time you gave us.”

“And how do you know they didn’t tell?”

“Because they are cowards,” Kaplin laughed without a humor, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  “To tell would have meant facing Visser One, dealing with his interrogation, and ultimately being killed so he could keep the glory to himself.  And, despite my companion’s so _noble_ intentions, she cannot accept that many will surrender thousands to save themselves.”

Her face was twisting from the mockery, but her voice was steady.  “Those we told follow our plan to free our people.”

“And none Visser One has pleased,” Kaplin smirked, then gave me a long look.  “It looks like, Andalite, you have to look elsewhere for you leak.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed, narrowing my eyes.  “Or we both have a traitor in our mist.”

“Not our people,” Elphaba said vehemently.  “They are loyal to me.”

Blood still on his face, Kaplin grinned like a predator at her pronoun choice.  “To someone,” he corrected, but then added, “though I agree they wouldn’t speak.”

“Someone spoke,” I insisted, because it was too pretty of counter to us, too perfect.

“The Beast grows desperate for blame, I think,” he snickered.  “Can’t face that we Yeerks are superior to you Andalites.”

“I see no Yeerks here,” I snapped.  “Just two weak little humans.”

“Oh, we are still Yeerks.  And you know it.  It’s why you blame us and not your little humans.  I think you should look there for your traitor.”

I bristled at the attack.  “My warriors are loyal.  They would not betray us.  And neither would the Hork-Bajir.”

Elphaba was angered.  “You came and blame us, attack and attempt to kill us, and we are innocent.  Go blame someone else for your faults, Andalite.  We’re not here to be your scapegoat for every attack that goes foul.”

What had happened wasn’t a battle gone foul, but made foul.  Any seasoned warrior would recognize it, and I saw my humans trying to push the idea away while Gafinilan and Mertil turned grim.  Glaring, I kept my mouth silent.  If I accepted the former-Yeerks had no spy in their midst, then _was_ there one in mine?

It was not an idea that settled well in my hooves.  Not at all.

I left, not bothering to apologize for my actions to them.  Doubtlessly, neither of them expected it, and I would not lie to them and offer something I did not mean.

 ****

Some information had to be shared, so I gathered Mertil, Gafinilan, and Toby Hamee.  They were all intelligent and no doubt could guess a direction of the talk.  In this calm before the next upcoming storm, we leaders, superiors, allies, warriors, whatever we were, had to speak bluntly, to call a spade a spade.  Gafinilan would, and so would Toby Hamee.  I knew their characters enough to know this, and no doubt Mertil’s brilliant mind understood. They would tell me their fears and concerns, and I would confirm them.

Except what I would say would not be confirming anything.  I had no proof, like they had no proof.  All we had were our seasoned senses, but if the four of us agreed … what more proof was there to be had, except the actual traitor?

The humans were nestled next to the distant cabin, tending to their traumatized.  Despite how far it was, I caught Matilda’s weary eyes as she sat next to the new warriors, trying to give comfort and words she most likely did not believe anymore.  When one of the humans started to rush towards the group, she stood as if to intercede before catching my signal and went back to her charges.  Her presence was not needed to protect me, not when it had a more important if more difficult task.

“I hope you’re satisfied, _Andalite_?” Rachel’s mother hissed, rushing up to us. 

My face was as if carved in stone, letting no emotion show. 

“You single-handedly destroyed our city,” she continued, still venting her spleen.  The news communication I had told Aximili to set up and monitor from detection had been running the destruction of the city, which very likely added to the general humans’ misery at seeing the Pool ship actually on Earth soil.

‹Silence, you ignorant human!  Don’t speak of things you know _nothing_ of!› Gafinilan roared, before privately turning to me.  ‹How can you allow her to speak you like that?›  Disgust colored his voice.

Rachel’s mother’s color heightened.  Like her daughter, she wasn’t cowed by much, and I think she realized that for all our outward appearance and manner, we Andalites would not actually harm her. (Probably not, anyway.)  She actually approached Gafinilan and dared to poke him hard in the chest.  “Don’t you _dare_ yell at me, you freak!  You come to our planet and –”

‹This is why I allow her to speak as she wishes, because then she doesn’t speak like this,› I replied over her noise, roughing wrapping my tail around her like a parent would to their young.  Before she could comprehend my action, my tail whipped her back so hard she staggered and would have fallen if Peter hadn’t caught her.  ‹You may speak as you will to _me_ , Ms. Naomi, but you will refrain from such crude remarks to my associates,› I continued lowly.  ‹Unlike me, they are not so … forgiving.›

Indeed, Mertil’s hand was restraining his seething companion, the knuckles pale under the fur.  Any fool would see Gafinilan was barely coherent.  Rumor on the ship said he was a vile Andalite to cross, and those sorts of rumors usually are true.

“How dare yo—”

“Naomi, stop,” Steve said, coming to her side with the tiredness that could eat the soul.  He believed his elder son was dead, killed the explosion of our making, and his wife and he appeared to be grieving.  “Just … stop.”

Naomi glared.  “How can you even act like that?  Don’t you realize what –”

“Mom, give it up!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, missy.  You’re risking your life because of these monsters” – it seemed likely this also included the Hork-Bajir, though Toby Hamee remained impassive – “against this imaginary battle and –”

‹Imaginary?› Mertil repeated, stalks stretching and tone incredulous.  ‹How can you still deny – ›

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you fricking crippled monster.”

‹Human.  Be.  Silent,› Gafinilan seethed. 

“I’m not scared of you,” she taunted.  “Just try it, you big _coward!_ ”

‹Gafinilan, no,› Mertil pleaded, giving me a desperate look as more humans joined us.

The only way to stop them was going to be to kill the two of them.  ‹This may not the best time, but it is possible we have been infiltrated by a spy,› I said blandly.

It did stop the fight, possibly _almost_ killed them from the shock of delivery, but then _everyone_ started yelling and talking so loudly that my ears curled down instinctively.  Understanding one being in this mess was impossible until Eva gave an ear-piercing whistle.

“Everyone shut up!  What are you saying, Elfangor?” she demanded.  But of course she wasn’t so foolish to deny it, and I knew she also feared the worst.

‹Our last attack was too perfectly countered.  We all know it.  Somehow, the Yeerks knew what we were doing.›

“So, what, you’re saying it was one of us?” Paul demanded, insulted on behalf of his friends.

‹No, I am not,› I said tiredly.

“It was probably one of those Yeerks you gave the morphing ability to,” Vicky said with a vicious voice, cutting at with the disgust and accusation.  “Not one of us.”

Gafinilan’s and Mertil’s eyes shot to me, and I knew I would have to give some sort of explanation to them later.  They would be proper enough to question (and punish, as they should,) such an action in private.  ‹It is possible, yes, but considering how and when we finalized our plans, it would have been difficult to accomplish in a timely manner.›

“So you do think we may have a traitor amongst us, Elfangor,” Toby Hamee said, face grim.

I knew what my answer was going to do.  It was going to create friction, divide our barely coherent team.  It was going to put me at the blame for saying the truth, for bringing it out in the open.  But I would not lie. 

‹Yes.›

This time no one spoke, absorbing the full import of my words.

“So … um … how to we figure out who’s …?” Emily asked, eyes darting nervously around. 

That, I did not know.  No one did.

At least for a few minutes.

“I have an idea,” Cassie said quietly, biting her lip.  After a pause, she continued, “A Yeerk could figure it out.”

“Whoa, no way!” Marco exclaimed.  I’ll admit, my reaction was the same, rearing back.

‹It is a sound idea,› Mertil said, his face not completely hiding his disgust. 

“If we could find a Yeerk to trust,” Rachel snapped.

“Or if we could find one to acquire,” Cassie said.

I looked at her slowly.  She already had Aftran at her disposal, and yet she did not specify that _she_ could do it.  Because, I realized, if she had, if there was a traitor, killing Cassie would have been an instant goal.  That, or escape.  ‹Unfortunately, none of us have such a morph.›

Jake almost corrected me, but Marco elbowed him. 

“But then how do we know if whomever morphs the Yeerk isn’t the traitor?” Vicky demanded.

“It’s hard for the Yeerk to hide everything from the host,” Eva answered in the dead voice.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed quietly.

‹And more than one person can morph a Yeerk.›

“My people won’t be pleased to do such a thing, but they will understand if they must,” Toby Hamee said, but I think she understood I was not questioning _her_ people’s loyalty.  Indeed, my bias was centering on only a small sample of humans.  Because of personal annoyance or desperation, there was a mental list of subjects, and not all of them could morph.

“So we got to get a Yeerk,” Paul said grimly, arms crossed.  “How we gonna do that?”

“Especially since we just blew up Lake Yeerk,” Lewis added.

“They’re already rebuilding a Pool, getting a Yeerk isn’t going to be hard.  It’s making sure the traitor isn’t going to turn us in before that,” Rachel growled.

“Hey, if you think you know who it is, why don’t you just say it?” Carlie said back.

‹We will not be making baseless accusations,› I interrupted.  ‹Once a Yeerk has been acquired, everyone will be examined and we will learn the truth then.›

“Everyone?” Naomi repeated, giving me a nasty look.

My fur bristled.  ‹Everyone.›

I hoped we found the traitor before it came time for me to keep my word.

 ****

‹The Fleet is to approach and hide behind Saturn,› Aximili reported later, once things had calmed down.  Such news could only be reported to those we _trusted_.  And we could only trust ourselves if we made sure everyone who could morph was already in sight.

“What are they waiting for?” Rachel demanded.  “Why don’t they just come here and fight the Yeerks?”

Aximili hesitated, and I decided to spare him by delivering the news myself.  ‹Because Eva was right.›

Eva lifted her head, her expression closed off.  But there was no surprise in her stance, just weary acceptance.

‹What are you going on about, Elfangor?› Gafinilan demanded.

‹Quarantine.›

He straightened and raised himself up.  Everyone feared the explosion and Mertil was already raising a hand, but he merely growled, ‹Damned cowardly tailless bureaucrats.  Er … no offense, Mertil.›  He cast a sheepish look at his _shorm_ , who smiled in the tolerating fashion that said he experienced many such rants.

“So they’re just writing Earth off, is that it?” Marco asked.  “Giving us to the Yeerks.”

“And my people,” Toby Hamee added.

“What can we do to stop this, Elfangor?” Jake said.  Looking at him, his stance was strong and determined.  I smiled despite myself, before looking at the others.  Looking at me as if I did _have_ an answer, a way, and I felt my humor deflate.

‹The only thing we can do.  Get the order withdrawn.›

“And how do you think we can do that?” Rachel asked.

‹This is not a decision the People will accept,› Mertil answered, ‹nor any _true_ warrior.›

Nodding, I continued, ‹The only way to do it is to tell civilians.  The high command is only a small part of the Electorate, one that has grown to have more power than it should.›

“And how are we supposed to contact the Andalite people and tell them?” Tobias asked.  “Could we use Ax’s communicator?”

Aximili disagreed.  ‹It does not have the capabilities to get to the civilian net.›

‹Nor will our ship,› Mertil added, trying to think.

“What about the Pool ship?” Toby Hamee asked.

We stared at her before Rachel said, “That’s my girl!”

‹Excepting the fact that there is no way we could feasibly take it and live, yes, it would have the capabilities for our task,› Mertil said dryly.  ‹And why not take the Blade ship while we are at it?›

Gafinilan laughed, tapping his tail to Mertil’s stub.  ‹Still yourself, Mertil!  Always one to forgo the ground when there is the sky.›

‹That is not what I am saying.›

“Why should we not?” Toby Hamee asked.  “There are hundreds of Hork-Bajir being held captive.  If we take a portion, not to mention the weapon capabilities, we would do well.”

“Hell, yeah, exactly,” Rachel backed up.

Eva barked a laugh.  “Take a Pool ship?  The Council of Thirteen would have Visser One’s head.”

‹Then it is agreed,› Gafinilan said, and I could not tell if he was joking.

“I thought the point was to _survive_ ,” Marco said. 

‹Visser One would not expect such a move,› Aximili pointed out.

‹Nor should we expect to be able to control a ship,› Mertil said, as if trying to insert some sense.  ‹Even with our combined abilities, it would take hours to get control of each system.›

‹Don’t you wish for a challenge?› Gafinilan teased.

“If we go after the Pool ship, we need a diversion.  A big diversion.  Like tanks and jets and soldiers,” Jake mused.  “Us too, some of us, anyway.”

“Yeah … Jake, leave the planning for the people who want to live,” Marco said.  “Because in case you forgot – and I don’t see how, with it on the news and all – Visser One’s got this _huge_ fricking ass Dracon cannon, and well be Robin with the bright colors.”

“Shut up, Marco,” Rachel said, punching his arm hard.  “Jake’s the one with the brains, not you.”

“Oww!”

“Baby.”

I closed my main eyes and rubbed my temple.  ‹Children, enough.›

Eva came to her son’s defense.  “Visser One’s slow, but he’s not a complete idiot.  And he’s not going to underestimate us ever again.  Anyone in front of the Pool that even hints at blowing it up or taking it, he’ll kill with his usual prejudice.”

“But probably not as sloppy,” Tobias said, lips quirked to the side.

‹How would this diversion work, Jake?› Aximili asked.  ‹He shall either believe it a frontal attack or, as it is, a diversion.  How does that assist us in our lofty goal?  He will merely lift off and, as Marco said, fire at us from the sky.›

Jake grinned.  “But what if the diversion isn’t us breaking in, but hiding the fact we’re already inside?”

Marco blinked and then fell to his knees.  “Forgive me for doubting you, oh wise Jake.”

“Get off, you goob.”

Toby Hamee nodded with approval.  “He would not expect that.”

‹A very clever attack,› Gafinilan echoed, thinking it over.  He was _smiling_.

‹But how to you even plan to board?› Mertil demanded, eyes large with horror.  ‹It is suicide mission on both fronts.›

‹You are far too pessimistic.›

I disagreed with Gafinilan.

“While all this pie in the sky talk is great and all,” Matilda said, “awe-inspiring, even, could we think of something we need to do _first_?  Like, I don’t know, figure out this traitor first, because we’re _not_ going to win any ships until we figure that out, diversion or no.”

That took the wind out of everyone’s sails.  For all the amusement that had been building, it settled and a few actually dared to look where the other humans stood.

“You really think there’s a traitor, Elfangor?” Tobias asked.

“We all agree there is one,” Toby Hamee answered.

“You do know, they could be listening to us right now,” Marco muttered.  “They just heard our plans and –”

‹Marco, that will not help,› I said sighing. 

“Do you guys have any idea who it could be?” Jake asked.

‹We are working on the assumption there is one, but we have no one person in mind,› I said.

“So there really might not be anyone,” Cassie said.

Gafinilan snorted.  ‹You can say that, girl, after the battle for the explosives?  When the Yeerks fell from the sky and knew our motions?›  Mertil nudged him with his leg at the harsh tone.

“There is someone,” Toby Hamee agreed, though her tone was kinder, in a way steel is kind.

“Great!  So how do we figure it out?  Let Cassie pop in our heads for a bit?” Marco asked.  “No offense, Cassie, but you’re Jake’s girl and it just won’t feel right to me if we got that close.  Jake’s my bro and I’d never betray him like that.”  He wrapped an arm around Jake and slapped his chest.  “Guy code, bros befor—”

“Don’t finish that, Marco,” Rachel growled.

“Marco, you’re just not my type,” Cassie smiled.

“I’m _everybody’s_ type.”

 “Trust me, Marco,” Jake said, pushing himself free, “Cassie doesn’t want to know you that well.  No one does.”

 “See, Cass has this thing called _taste_ ,” Tobias said.

“Then why’s she with Jake?”

‹Elfangor,› my brother said, ‹were you speaking the truth when you said all of us would need to be … examined?›

‹Yes, I was.  Only to keep the peace between our fractions, which is essen—›

‹I will not be letting any Yeerk into my head,› Gafinilan interrupted.  ‹Peace between fractions be damned.›

I shot him a glare.  ‹I don’t wish it either, but we cannot – ›

“Has anyone else had their stuff gone through?” Tobias asked suddenly, and when we looked at each other, he blushed.  “I just remember, my uncle, he was complaining about his stuff being messed with.  I thought he was just being, well ….” He trailed off.

‹What did he think they were looking for?› I asked.  Howard was not very popular with the other humans.  He didn’t make it easy.  He swore at the adults, mocked them.  Was it a blue collar versus white collar mindset?  Perhaps not completely.  Tobias’ uncle accepted his new life with the muted swearing of a shanghaied sailor, but he went a step further.  He _accepted_ what his nephew was doing, and he did not join in the other parents’ complaints about the safety or concern.  He did the tasks Toby Hamee asked of him without much complaint, made the shelters and ran the drills without needing constant supervision.  He was, in short, a human I did not have to worry about giving me trouble.

“He said someone was looking for his bullets,” Tobias said.  The man had demanded I give him his guns, which I had, but I kept the bullets.  I did give him enough to hunt small game when he asked, but I doubted he had any surplus hidden.  The human appeared to be a decent shot.

The whole camp knew Howard kept his guns; fewer knew I had the bullets. 

“But he’s been saying stuff like that the whole time,” Tobias continued quickly.  “Someone was messing with his clothes, his blankets, knives.  I didn’t think –”

‹We understand.›  Everyone knew how Howard was.

“Everyone messes with everyone else’s stuff here,” Matilda added.  “I’ve had them crawling around my tent, _borrowing_ things.”

“Don’t you keep things in Loren’s tent, Elfangor?” Jake asked.

I nodded slowly.  Indeed, once upon a time, I kept the _Escafil device_ , separated into its smaller components, in there.   Now there was only the laptop I favored, and I often did not sit with her as I had done earlier in our encampment.  ‹Nothing of vast import, not anymore.›

“No one can get our weapons, can they?” Toby Hamee asked.

Mertil straightened, hearing the unintended insult.  ‹None that are in our ship.  I cannot vouch for those in your care.  Unless the spy learns the codes to the ship and to the armory, they are safe from tampering.›

“And first they’d have to find the ship,” Tobias pointed out.  Most the humans and Hork-Bajir were not aware of the underground cavern the two Andalites had fashioned with the ship to keep it from being seen by Yeerk scans.

‹We have not made a great effort to keep it hidden, coming and going as we do,› Gafinilan grumbled.  ‹Any who could fly and follow would know where it is.›

“Or morph wolf and track it,” Cassie added.

“So how are we going to figure out who it is?” Jake asked. 

“Just do it now, get it done and over with,” Rachel said.  “We don’t have time to dick around.”

‹I agree with the female.  We cannot risk letting the person get away,› Gafinilan said.

“Why haven’t they turned us in yet?” Matilda asked.  “If they told Visser One our plans, it doesn’t make sense.”

“If they told Visser One,” Eva repeated.  “They couldn’t have told him personally, he’s rarely on Earth.”

‹And they could not use my communications device,› Aximili added.  ‹Nor the ship’s, or use any human method.›

“Exactly.  Whomever it is told someone they knew.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why we’re still, you know, alive,” Marco argued, “unless they’re looking for something else.”

“The blue box,” Cassie breathed. 

Rachel took over, eyes wild with the knowledge.  “Cassie’s right.  Think about it, at first they couldn’t get away, and then we give them the morphing ability.”

“If they told then, Visser One would have taken all the glory.  But if they can come with the box,” Jake agreed, adding on.

“They just handed over us, the Hork-Bajir, and the morphing ability, a triple play,” Marco said.

Matilda frowned.  “That’s a big risk and a long wait.  They’d get the same thing if they just handed us over now.”

“It’s Yeerk politics,” Eva dismissed.

“This person, right now, isn’t a Controller, though,” Tobias reminded.  “Why would they do that?”

‹Do not try to understand the weak mind,› Gafinilan said.  ‹Where is the _Escafil device_ , Elfangor?›

I shifted a bit uneasily.  ‹It is safe.  Far from camp.  None of the other humans know where it is.›

‹Yes, but _where_ is it?› he repeated impatiently.

This was not going to go over well.  ‹With the Yeerk _nothlits._ ›

It was only because of my quick reflexes and Mertil that my head remained attached to my shoulders.  It took much time for Gafinilan to calm down, and he then spent his energy sending a myopic slow, simmering glare to me.

“It’s probably as safe there as it is here,” Eva said, standing between the two of us.  “At least it might be knocking off a few Yeerks and messing with Visser One’s ranks, if his Yeerks actually are aware of they can receive the ability.”

“As if Visser One isn’t going to be trying to find them, because he’s going to know about it,” Rachel argued.  “What can _they_ do to protect it?  He could have it now and we wouldn’t know.”

‹We’d know,› I said.  ‹The Chee are not so dishonorable to negate to tell me if the Gift was lost.›  I shook my stalks.  ‹I do not trust them, but Kaplin and Ms. Elphaba are, with different motives, both working to destroy Visser One.  They are no doubt using the famine to their benefit.›

‹And how do we know _they_ are not spying on us?› Gafinilan spat.

‹Because they have no need!  They have everything of value now!› I replied, eyes flashing.  ‹Do you think I wasn’t aware of the risks?  I may be a fool, but I am not a _blind_ one!›

My unintentional – or was it intentional? – barb hit him hard.

“Now that the galactic pissing contest is over,” Matilda said, shooting me a disapproving look, “let’s get to the important matter.”

“I agree.  We have to find the traitor soon.  With or without the morphing device, they can still tell of our location,” Toby Hamee said.

“If we go and demand everyone let Cassie in their heads, they might panic and try to fight,” Jake said.

“And we’re assuming there is only _one_ traitor,” Marco said.

Eva nodded.  “I don’t think, right now, we have to panic.  They think we need a Yeerk.  They’ll wait until the last moment, if they want the device.”

“If they want the device.  A bird in the hand,” Rachel growled.

“They’ll want the device,” Eva repeated.  “It’s the only excuse they can give Visser One for waiting so long.  With the Pool destroyed, they can’t afford to come without it.  Not if they want to live.”

“They might not think so.  Handing us over to Visser One could be enough,” Jake said.

“Maybe we could just keep an eye on them?  If any of them leave, we could have an idea,” Tobias suggested.

“They could sneak out while we’re sleeping, morph and disappear.  Just like we did to get out after curfew,” Marco dismissed.

‹Actually,› Mertil spoke up, a hand still on his friend’s side, ‹if I could get a sample from each human, I can set the computer to monitor their movements, such as how I found the Hork-Bajir valley based on DNA from the various donors.  It would not be perfect, because the computer would lose the signal if they morph, but it can constantly monitor them and warn us if any one or more should disappear.›

‹How long would it take to set up?› I asked.

Mertil barely deigned to look at me.  ‹The sooner I have the samples, the faster it will be operational.  Perhaps even by tonight.  The samples do not have to be much.  A strand of hair or drop of blood would do.›

“Good.  We’ll get them to you,” Eva said.  “And while we’re doing that, we can figure out how we’re going to keep the Andalites from screwing Earth over.  How do we get on a Pool or Blade ship, and live?”

There was a moment before Cassie said, “Get a traitor on their side.”

“Or at least someone that looks like one,” Marco corrected.

“How are we going to do that?” Tobias asked.  “We don’t even trust the _nothlits_ Elfangor knows.”

Toby Hamee said, “Perhaps we should depart to think separately.  The humans already suspect we suspect them.  We should not antagonize them with such treatment.”

‹Agreed.  Each of you attempt to get samples and give them to Mertil in his ship.  Samples of those who can and cannot morph,› I added.

“You can’t be serious,” Rachel said.

I narrowed my eyes.  ‹And be willing to give Mertil your own samples.›

“Elfangor!” Matilda scolded.  “You can’t think one of us is the spy.”

‹I do not.  However, I do not think it short-sighted to allow us to locate each other should the worst happen.›

“Andalite,” Eva said, “I don’t think that’s your only reason.”

Considering there were many definitions of “the worst” happening, she was not in error.  ‹I trust you now with my life.  That does not mean, tomorrow, we all can say the same.›  My fingers caught a longer tuft of fur at my side and my blade separated the strands from my body. 

‹If it would come to pass, death is always easier when the prey can be found.› After examining the fur for a second, as if to verify it was mine, I then handed it to Mertil.  ‹And it is easier to aim when one has target.›

 ****


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescues and the Traitor

I looked at the glowing dots on the screen of Mertil’s computer.  ‹These are all of the humans?›

‹And us Andalites.›  He tapped a few buttons on the console, avoiding all eye contact with me.  ‹I understand why you say we must all be examined.›

‹Pardon?›

‹I do not agree or endorse it, but I understand.  As does Gafinilan, deep inside.  These are your younger humans and the elder two females,› he said, indicating a set of slightly differently colored dots.

‹The point of it is to find the traitor or traitors before we are forced to go through the humiliation,› I replied, also examining the screen.  Those four dots, also of a different color, were probably those who were Andalites.

‹So you plan to back out of your promise to equal treatment?›

I winced.  ‹That would not be my intention.›

He chuckled for a moment before indicating a part of the screen.  ‹This will notify us of any unusual behavior, if a number disappears for a time.  Gafinilan pressed for alarms and bells at any movement,› he shook his stalks with exasperation, ‹but thankfully he cannot do anything more than bluster and scowl at my programming.  Alarms are nice, but not when they go off with such sensitivity he’d want.  The paranoid old goat, as they say on Earth.›

The laughter came from my mind unbidden, and I caught Mertil’s smile from the side of his eyes.  ‹Paranoia does have its uses.›

‹So you would defend.› 

‹I am not paranoid.›

His smile remained and he tapped a few buttons to change the screen.  ‹Also, in order to appease the goat for ignoring his suggestions, I humored him into looking up additional human forces to use as cannon fodder.›

‹And you found something?› I asked, eagerly examining what was a … a map.

‹There is a base fifty-nine point three miles away in a hollowed mountain.  The humans’ laughable attempt to fight the Yeerks, no doubt already infiltrated but too far away for the Visser to annihilate at this moment.  They call it Alien Task Force One.  I assume that means there are additional Alien Task Forces, somewhere.›

A human’s face appeared. 

‹This is Samuel Benjamin Doubleday, a fifty-four year old general.  He is in charge of the base.  Most likely not infested at this point in time.›

Mertil continued showing pictures and explaining the ranks and files. 

‹Though we cannot be secure in any of them, not unless you can somehow convince them to lockdown for three days,› he concluded at the last.

‹This will be helpful.  Thank you.›

He snorted.  ‹It was child’s play, hardly worth the effort.  But do not tell Gafinilan.  He used to, should we say, check his computer work against mine in the academy.  Brilliant flyer, but he couldn’t tell the difference between the landing circuits to the engines if his tail depended on it.  I should not doubt he couldn’t break into these human computers, but I know him to well.  He would prefer to break them.›

‹Considering how simple their defenses are, I don’t blame him.›

‹Neither do I.›

I looked back at the pictures of the humans.  ‹How many do you suppose are already taken?›

‹I would think approximately a quarter.  Definitely no more than a third.  At that point, it would be more logical to take the base than keep up the charade.›

‹Unless Visser One intends to trap us.  Fifty miles between us and this Alien Task Force.  It is a temptation that we will fall prey to, in time.›  I thought about Mertil’s suggestion.  True, he made the assumption Yeerks, and especially Visser One, were logical, but it was a reasonable one.  ‹If we even dared to show a shadow of our tails, Visser One will send his troops.›

‹Yes, that is obvious, especially with so many probable Controllers.  Added to that is the fact this is a human defense.  The television says they don’t trust aliens, so they will also shoot at us and check to see if we were safe later.›

I shot him a look.  ‹Thank you.›

‹For what?› he asked, confused.

‹Never mind.  This is something we shall have to figure out.›   I caught a flash of movement in the shadows and turned quickly, ready.  But to my surprise, the cat Dude jumped out and rubbed against my legs.  ‹So this is where the cat disappears to.›

‹You know this creature?›

‹It is Tobias’ pet.›

‹Ah.  We were not aware he was one of your children’s pets, but some wild stray.  Gafinilan hates the creature, and I think it is mutual,› Mertil reported before bending to scoop the cat up.  He purred loudly.  ‹He spends most of the time trying to get it outside of the ship, complaining of the odor its making.  I admit, I do not assist his endeavors, and usually bring the creature inside.›

‹His name is Dude.›

‹We can read the identification tags, Elfangor.›  He pulled up the screen of dots and I realized was counting them.  ‹He is not a spy.  Yes, that is nice, Cat,› he said as Dude crawled up to his shoulder and rubbed his face.

‹It will comfort Tobias to know his pet is still alive.›

Mertil looked sheepish, though it was difficult to accomplish since he was also keeping his stalks away from the playful cat.  ‹I did not mean to cause him turmoil.›

‹He will understand, I’m sure,› I said, scratching Dude’s ears to distract the creature.  Scratches on the stalks hurt, and the eyes could be easily wounded accidentally.  ‹And will be pleased that his pet is safe and is adequately fed.  His mother and I have tried to tell him that Dude could catch his own food and only wanted to be away from the rest of the camp, but you know how children worry.›

‹I am surprised he responds well to you.  Though I have no difficulty with him, at least not as was in the beginning, Dude has never … warmed up, as the humans say, to Gafinilan.  He still hisses and claws at him.  Perhaps why Gafinilan does not like him.›

‹He was not a very warm cat to much of the camp.  I was tempted to think he disappeared to get away from Sara and Jordan.  They were very rough on him, in my opinion.›

The cat slid down and rested on Mertil’s back, turning to lick his hindquarters and settled to stay there for some time.  Mertil did not appear disturbed at the treatment, turning only one stalk to watch the creature.  ‹In any case, how you decide to use the information is up to you.  Once I inform Gafinilan, you know you shall have no peace.  He will be subtle, with the worry about the spy, but he will be … like a dog with a bone?›

‹An apt metaphor.  And once the children know, they will be as eager.  To get additional resources and aid isn’t something to toss aside, especially since we need to contact the homeworld as soon as possible, but I don’t wish to rush to my death.›

‹If you do contact the homeworld, what proof can you offer to the People to support your claim?  Not that I do not believe you, only a fool wouldn’t at this stage, but civilians, while not complete fools, are being led by ones.›

‹I think, if we have control of the Pool or Blade ship, it doesn’t matter what we say.  We do not have to make baseless accusations, but to state our accomplishment.›  My eyes twisted in the emotion.  ‹We could not give Earth to the Yeerks after such a victory, could we?›

‹You have a politician’s mind.›

‹There is no reason to insult, Prince Mertil.›

‹I speak as I see.›

 ****

Mertil was correct in his assessment of Gafinilan’s actions, just as I was correct in how the children would react.  I understood why, as even I was feeling the crush in the necessity of contacting the homeworld as soon as possible.  Once the Fleet arrived, it would be too late for Earth.  Everything would be hushed up, painted in the brilliant colors of illusion and a job well done, while those that knew the truth would be forced to keep themselves silent.

One way or another.

‹The problem with taking the human base is we cannot keep it once we have it,› Gafinilan scowled.  ‹Blasted Yeerks.›

“Let’s focus on getting in without letting the Visser know we’re there,” Eva replied, looking over the data files Mertil had created.

“Getting in won’t be a problem,” Jake said.  “We can go bug – er, some of us,” he corrected, shooting a look at me.

I frowned at the reminder.  That would make my participation difficult.  ‹It is not necessary for me to be present at _everything_ , I suppose.›

‹Why can’t you morph insects?› Gafinilan asked.

‹My translator chip,› I muttered.  ‹It is too old to morph to small forms safely.›

‹Then it is good one of us took command’s suggestion to replace our chips seriously.›

“Anyway, we should be able to get in without a problem,” Jake repeated.  “I just don’t know how we can get to the general without alerting the Yeerks.”

Aximili tilted his stalks.  ‹We could suppress their communication methods at the same time.›

“Cut the phone lines?” Cassie asked.

‹That, and block their feeds to the ship, which would be more beneficial, since they probably wouldn’t called the Yeerks.›

“Who you gonna call?  Yeerk busters,” Marco muttered, to the snorts of most of the children.

“And that won’t draw the Yeerks’ attention?” Rachel asked.

‹It would depend on how they are communicating now.  If they are in constant communication, they would be instantly aware once we moved.›

‹It is unlikely that would be the case, not even true Yeerk outposts are in constant contact,› Mertil mused.  ‹It would be easy to jury-rig such a device, maybe even making it so it also sent out a random background communication so the humans wouldn’t be concerned, but I would need additional materials.  I do not want to make our ship nonfunctional.›

“The general is still going to need some sort of proof we’re on the level,” Marco said.  “He’s not going to believe a bunch of kids.  Or you, Gaffy.”

“We could put on a show,” Matilda pointed out.  “If communications will be down, we can do whatever we have to do to convince him.  He’s bound to be surrounded by Controllers.”

Eva nodded with approval.  “That could work, provided we can block the Yeerks from broadcasting we’re there.”

Mertil drew himself up to look down at her.  ‹I can accomplish that,› he sniffed.  ‹If I get what I need, anyway.  I cannot promise you complete silence or even a time frame until I construct the device.›

‹What kinds of materials do you need, Prince Mertil?› Aximili asked.  He was always careful to address Mertil with his title, which may have made up for him avoiding making eye contact.

After Mertil gave his needs, Eva snapped, “You want us to salvage another ship!”

‹I am only attempting to build a device that would _work_ ,› he defended.  ‹I could make do with less sophisticated materials, but it would not give the same coverage.  Nor would I be confident that the blockage would remain constant.›

Toby Hamee jumped down from her perch.  “We can get the materials, Prince Mertil.  If they are what you need, we have no choice.”

“This’ll be fun.  Like a scavenger hunt,” Marco said gleefully.

“Except you have no idea what any of that was,” Jake pointed out.

“Not a clue.  I call Ax on my team!”

“Do you think the Chee could help?” Cassie asked.  “This is basically non-violent.  They would like that.”

“Yeah.  Erek could like get everything.  Maybe even build a better one,” Rachel said.

‹I beg your pardon?› Mertil said sharply.

“If we can find the Chee,” Tobias reminded.  “Erek’s house is gone.”

‹There are other Chee,› I reminded.  ‹I may be able to speak with a pair and make our request.›

“We can wait until you do so, to learn what we truly need,” Toby Hamee pronounced.  “Can you make contact with them soon?”

‹If they have not left their establishment to go into hiding, then yes.›  Looking at their faces, I sighed.  ‹I could see them tonight.›

“Good.”

My feelings were less positive.

 ****

Mark and Amanda were still tending to their hotel, though now it was serving more as a shelter for those who had lost their homes.  Humans filled every crook and space, a thoroughly downtrodden sight.  Power was provided by a generator, but as to water and food ….

To think, our actions had brought the humans to this state.  My hearts tore at the dismal sight of such beings – weak, annoying, under-evolved, foolish, but with such _heart_ – subjected to this level.  The innocent civilians whom we had been trying to protect, to save … these ignorant beings who just a week ago would have denied the existence of aliens, despite all the fervor of the Star Wars and Treks and Gates, who would have perhaps admitted that _maybe_ there was life on another world, but only something like a bacterium, nothing like humans.

Yes, they would have been right in that it was nothing like humans.

“Prince Elfangor, it is nice to see you again.”

The squawk I involuntarily gave was the most dignified that could be given in these circumstances, and I was almost to the air before I turned my head down to the being with the day’s trash in his grip.  The android smiled.  “I did not mean to startle you.”

‹I was not startled,› I replied, desperately smoothing some ruffled feathers.  ‹These instincts react too freely.  How did you know it was me?›

Mark nodded his head.  “Very few goshawks come to the city, and Erek is familiar with your morph’s appearance.”

‹Yes, that makes sense.  I see your business is popular.›

“People need a place to stay,” he replied, depositing the garbage into a large pile.  The rats were feasting well, and I had to grip my talons to remain stationary.

‹I came to ask if the Chee would assist us in locating a few pieces of machinery.›

“Such as?” he asked.  I gave the list Mertil had devised.  “It sounds as if you are attempting to build a communications buffer.”

‹We are.  We hope to take a human military base and do not want Visser One to be contacted during our attempt.›  I paused, and then realized the Chee should also know the news.  ‹The Andalite fleet is to arrive soon.›

“That is good news.”

‹No.›  I fixed my feathers again.  ‹It is our … theory that Earth may be … given to the Yeerks in exchange for ending hostilities.  Or similar.›  Though how could giving the Yeerks hosts stop them from continuing their plague across the universe?  What logic were the politician’s using, or lack thereof?

“Ah.”

‹Yes.  Obviously, this is not something that would be approved by the Andalite _people_ ,› I added with a rush.  ‹We are confident that if we can patch into the civilian net, we can derail such a plan.  If it is the plan.›

Mark merely smiled politely.  “Erek is aware of your needs and says he will do his best to comply.”

I was relieved he did not ask how we would attempt to get into the civilian net.  I doubted I could create a non-violent spin to taking the Blade or Pool ship.

“Also, Prince Elfangor, Mr. Kaughton and Ms. McCoy would like an audience with you.”

‹Why?› I asked suspiciously.  Considering our last meeting, this alliance would seem to be better done meeting as few times as possible. 

“Mr. Kaughton was rather circumvent, but we are under the impression they have discovered a pocket of their brethren and require your assistance to retrieve them.  He made it sound as he was confident you would not deny him.›

‹He would,› I said bitterly.

“Prince Elfangor, they are your allies,” Mark said.  “And they are bringing you more than you are aware of.”

I remained silent to his statement.

“When Erek gets your parts, he will bring them to you.  And he will bring the _nothlits_ to you.  He will not let them know where you are, he understands your fears,” he added.

‹We have been infiltrated with a spy.  It wouldn’t be safe for them to come.›

“How much safer will the world be if they do not?”

‹When can we expect to be _graced_ with their presence?› I asked tightly, angered that they were not even going to asked for permission to arrive at our sanctuary.  And it was not like we could _stop_ the Chee from arriving.  All the guards in the world wouldn’t be able to keep a determined android away.

The Chee could not have failed to notice, but he replied in the unerring politeness the Chee had to have been programmed with.  “Erek estimates thirty-nine hours.”

‹I will let the others know.›

Mark nodded his head before going back into the crowded human dwelling and I flew back into the air.

 ****

Erek arrived later than expected, and to our surprise, alone.  “Erek, my man, you come with gifts!” Marco called.  Taking the bag, he grunted and dropped the bag as if gravity had thrice increased.  “Ugh, _heavy_ gifts.  What’s in here, lead?  We wanted chocolate.  Or at least Gummy Bears.  Please tell me you at least brought Gummy Bears.”

“Sorry, Marco, Elfangor did not include them on his list,” Erek smiled.

“An Andalite forgetting Gummy Bears on a shopping list?  As if.”

“Elfangor said you were bringing those two former Yeerks with you,” Paul commented, looking suspiciously at the apparent human youth.

Turning away from Marco, Erek shrugged.  “They decided it was not necessary for them to come.  Another can deliver the news just as well.”

“You?”

“No.  Him.”  Around him, the air shifted to reveal a giant Taxxon, and all of the humans recoiled back.  Those who had never faced such a creature gave panicked cries of fear and disgust, while the warriors became foolishly at the ready.  The Taxxon in question merely stood erect, unafraid and staring at me with its large gelatinous eyes.  “Ms. McCoy and Mr. Kaughton learned of him during their efforts.”

“How’s some stupid Taxxon going to help?” Vicky asked.

“They can’t even fight,” Rachel echoed.

‹I disagree.›

I jerked at the voice, and everyone else gave their own startled voices of surprise.  Erek stood there smiling a half-smile, and I examined the Taxxon, eyes disbelieving.  It was impossible, not after over eighteen years, and yet …. ‹Arbron?  It is you?›

The Taxxon – Arbron – folded his upper body.  ‹It has been a long time, Elfangor.›  There was an old familiar tinge of humor.

‹Indeed it has!›  I rushed to him, unable to keep from smiling.

“Arbron?   You mean your old school chum Arbron?  The dude that got stuck as a Taxxon?  That guy?” Marco’s voice came.

‹Telling stories about me, have you?› Arbron smirked, his Taxxon visage twisting and his tone self-deprecating.

“Whoa, okay, _what’s_ going on?” Lewis demanded.  “You _know_ that thing?”

Examining the others, I saw that, aside from the children and Aximili, they were confused and wary of such treatment to a perceived enemy.  ‹Arbron and I served together when we were _arisths_ ,› I explained.  ‹What are you doing on Earth?›

‹My people and I have been ordered to assist in digging the new Yeerk pool.›  Disgust colored his voice, and suddenly I was filled with terribly curious to know how his life had fared these years.  What had become of the Living Hive, how had he been taken?  ‹Imagine our surprise at being confronted by two apparent humans claiming that if we wished they would give us the morphing ability.›

My stalks stretched.  I had done them a great disservice, if they were willing to include giving the Gift to the Taxxons.  Well, perhaps not _great_ … but still a disservice.  ‹They gave the offer to you as well?›

Arborn hissed a laugh.  ‹Actually, they thought we were infested.  But through a bit of communication, we learned the truth of each other.  Imagine my surprise at learning you turned to such a blatant rule-breaker, Elfangor.›

‹I am not a blatant one.›

“Okay, enough with the chit-chat!” Rachel yelled.  “Why are you here?”

‹I am here to fight with you.›

Vicky laughed.  “One Taxxon?  Yeah, that’ll help.”

‹Silence!› I said sharply.  I remembered how the other Taxxons listened to Arbron those many years ago, and I could not stop the slight thrill of what I knew he would offer.

Waving his legs, Arbron stood straighter.  ‹I am a leader of my new people for many years.  We have fought the hunger, resisted as well we could the murderous cannibalistic urges.  I’ve worked to show them a better way, but the need is too powerful.  You know this, Elfangor.  Resistance always breaks down and we fall again under Yeerk sway.  They feed us, it is as simple as that.  But you know it can be different.  You have already started it.›

Cassie spoke softly.  “You want to use the morphing ability to … to not be Taxxons.”

‹Yes.  I know it cannot save me, that I am forever trapped, but it can save the others.  If they are saved, I can be able to lay down the leadership that has been with me these years.›

I looked at him, speaking quietly, ‹Your people can freely use _Escafil device_.  If those Yeerks do not let you, I would have no qualm in taking it from them.›

He laughed.  ‹They have offered the Gift, albeit grudgingly.  Those who understand are eager for it, but I know the truth my people cannot see.  We will only be free if the Yeerks are defeated, if all Taxxons have the choice, if we have a home where the Yeerks will not kill or use us in our new forms.›  He turned serious.  ‹We will fight for you.  I lead one thousand seven hundred and nine non-Controller Taxxons on the surface of this planet and in the Pool ship.  We will fight for you, with you.›

I felt honored and horrified in the same breath.  ‹We accept your aid, old friend, but you know that, if we win, I have only one device, and it is unlikely we would be given another by the People.›

‹But we have the one.  That can be enough, for now.›

“So … now the centipedes are on our side?” Travis asked.

“I think so,” Paul said.

I looked at the humans before ordering Aximili to take the materials to Mertil.  ‹Tell me how you have done these years?› I asked.

‹First, tell me of your plans to win?›  His large mouth moved in a strange fashion.  ‹I was always afraid you were going to be a great warrior.›

‹Afraid?›

‹If you are a great one, that means the curve must have moved down drastically.›

I smiled.  ‹It may have.›

 ****

“Is it just me, or did that Taxxon double-take when you introduced me?” Matilda asked later that evening, after the talk of old memories and battles had ended between Arbron and me, after the talk and hopes of upcoming ones, of the worries about spies, after Erek and Arbron finally left.

‹Why do you think that?› I asked evasively, for indeed Arbron had reared in surprise and blinked at her.

“And then he laughed at me!”

‹He didn’t mean to.›

“What did he mean by it’s a small universe?  Did I meet him before, know him?”

I scowled mentally at Arbron’s big mouth.  Apparently being a Taxxon had caused it to grow.  ‹… Yes.  It was a long time ago.›

“No, really?” she replied, sarcastic.  “Elfangor, one of these days you are going to tell me the _truth_ about how we met.”

‹I never lied,› I defended quietly.

“Fine!” she snapped.  “You are going to tell me the explicit, balls-on-accurate truth, or so help me God, I will beat you down!”

“Now there’s something I’d like to see!” Naomi yelled from across the field, and it was echoed by several other humans.

I scowled at her, ignoring the cackles from the distance.  ‹Just for that, I will never tell you.  As if you could really beat me down.›

“Don’t make me sell tickets, Elfangor.”

 ****

Mertil’s device was a thing of elegance.  I could not have created better, and Aximili was impressed (perhaps despite himself).  The humans did not understand anything about it, only complaining that it was heavy and required a perimeter set-up, and it was clear the Andalite engineer was, privately, put out at the their lack of awe.

If he dealt with humans much longer, he’d eventually learn not to expect such things from them.

Because of my morphing handicap – blasted translator – I was not going to be actually _inside_ the building.  While it vexed me, I could accept it because Gafinilian, Matilda, and Eva were present.  (And even if they weren’t, I did have faith in the children.  There still would have been worry, not at the lack of supervision, but just at the complete lack of control on my part.)

A method and a plan still didn’t solve our dilemma with our probable spy.  Even if we had wanted to, our plan couldn’t have been kept secret from a determined leak.  It was logical they knew.  Mertil reported all movements had been within reason, so the plan still remained in our numbers, but that would only remain until the sneak spoke.  Any forewarning could spark ruin.

But … this could be a calculated plan to narrow down our list of suspects.

Admittedly, I still harbored a small dream that the traitor was one of the non-morphing humans, which would have allowed me to vent all of my terrible temper on that meddlesome being, but I was resigned to accept it was probably one of the older children.  Who, I could not possibly narrow, and I dared not beyond a vague assessment.

The hope was that by only allowing a portion of the attack to be known to each, whatever part fell through would logically contain the leak.  Each of my children would lead the band of others, so the ignorance wouldn’t put them in undue danger. 

It was still a risk, but, in the end, we really did not have time for perfection.  The Fleet was coming, which left Earth with little time.  We were going to have to accept this, be extra vigilant.

(For some reason, this amused several of the humans, and there was some whispering about mad eyes and me being grumpy.  With warriors like these, it cannot be wondered why my temper is constantly tried and I become “moody.”)

While the others would go in and deal with the humans, my task was to set up the communication buffers and keep them operational.  It wasn’t going to be an easy task, since they were spread over two square miles.  There had been talk of someone assisting me, but the additional aid would be better served inside, not with me playing guard.

Despite certain comments from some quarters, being delegated to such a position did not negatively impact my self-worth.  It did not.

And I did not have to listen Marco and Travis quoting movie dialogue, and it gave me a twisted sense of glee to hear Gafinilian yell at them to cease doing so.  They did, though I last I could hear was Marco chanting and the Andalite in charge screaming that this was a _stealth_ mission, which meant **_silence_**.

(After this, I promised myself to buy Gafinilan some human liquor, something of good quality and stronger than my wont.  Novices to leading my humans needed something of the sort to recover with.)

Chuckling to myself, I started to move as fast as my wings allowed.  These devices had to be in place within thirty minutes, all the wait they would give me.  If I couldn’t get these up in that time frame, I was not much of a warrior.

My pride would not allow Gafinilan to make _that_ claim.

 ****

I could listen to all the proper reports – or not so proper ones from certain members – about how the mission had went.  In fact, there was no way to get out of it.  Our objective had been met and the human general was sending his men to a fallback position, prepared to wait out the three days to make sure his men were secure.

Hopefully the men with the guns _were_ the secured ones.

But later that night, settled on the ground outside of the camp and examining the stars, when Matilda sat next to me, I was not against hearing her opinion. 

“They’re going to be dead meat, aren’t they?” she whispered.

‹It does not pay to think such thoughts when we have no knowledge of our future plans.›

She sighed rested her head against my arm.  “Elfangor, don’t give me your polite, wishy-washy answers.  God, I hate it when you do that.”

‹What would you have me say?›

“The truth.  God, the fricking truth, for once in your life.”

I didn’t decide to argue that I did not lie (often) to her, that mostly I spoke with obscuration and innuendo.  ‹I do not know what the truth would be.›

“Sure you don’t.”  She shivered and crossed her arms, cold in the night air, and I shifted enough so my body curled around her.  Not too much, but perhaps she could be more comfortable.  “Those soldiers, they’re not like us.  Not like the Hork-Bajir.”

‹They are warriors,› I offered, unsure of the direction of her thoughts.

Snorting, she agreed.  “Yeah, I guess they are.  Except, you know, they’re _not_ us, can’t morph or do anything like that, so they’re whole point is to give the Yeerks something to kill that’s _not_ us.”

Ah, I understood her thoughts.  ‹I do not speak to trivialize your concern, but there is honor in giving such protection.›

Matilda’s head snapped back and I saw her glare in the dark.  “Honor?  Is all that matters to you?” 

‹No.›

The shortness of my answer quieted her temper and she looked away from me. 

‹I have risked my life in similar dire circumstances you expect the soldiers to face, been part of platoons that lost over ninety percent of our force.›

“So, what, since you did it, it’s okay if they do?”

‹You are putting thoughts in my head I have not stated.  I understand it is not a pleasant thought, but you should not underestimate their abilities, honor, or part in this battle.  It does neither side any favors.›

“You just don’t understand.”

It would have been petty and pointless to argue that is was she who didn’t understand, so I remained silent. 

“Do you even know what we’re going to do with them?” she asked after several minutes of listening to insect sounds and the dim camp chatter.

‹Nothing concrete, as of yet.  We will have to discuss our options, but we have time.  Nothing can be done until three days have passed.›  I did not mention that I was _considering_ speaking with the two Yeerk _nothlits_ about speeding up the timeframe.

Her fingers toyed with the fur tufts by my blade.  “Yeah, true.  And then we’ll send them to the slaughter.  Not that I’d rather it be any of the kids or the Hork-Bajir or God, even those Taxxons,” she added quickly.  “It’s just that … I don’t know.  Why should we be the ones to tell them to die?  We’re not any better than them.”

‹You should not think you are so much better than another warrior that you expect them to fail,› I consoled quietly.  ‹And you should not start to think they, knowing full well they may die, do not have the ability to accept such a mission.  Humans are, I’ve learned, surprisingly adapt at being surprising, and are as brave and strong as any Andalite I have fought alongside.›

Her finger traced the curve of the blade.  “Hmmm.  I just wish ….”

‹I understand.›

“I know you do.”  There was a pause.  “You’d think your blades would be sharp.”

‹A tail blade _is_ sharp.›

“Sharper.  This is like butter knife sharp.”

I chuckled.  ‹I suppose I have been lax in sharpening it.  But even dulled, such an edge is enough with the force I can deliver.›

“Does it hurt?”

It was a curious question.  ‹I can feel sensations from the blade itself, rather like when you tap something against your teeth.  Like I can feel you are tracing the outer curve now.›

“I mean when you slice and dice.”

‹Again, I liken it to your teeth.  I feel things and if I have to hit through something harder than usual, I fill feel pain, or at least pressure.  But, like your jaw muscles and teeth evolved to tolerate such abuse, my tail and blade have done so.›

“Ah.  And do the Andalite boys compare their blades at summer camp?”

Amused at her question, I removed my tail from her grasp.  ‹Are you asking of generalities or personal experience?›

“Both,” she laughed cheekily. 

‹You will find, no matter what species, certain characteristics remain.›

“You didn’t answer the other part.”

Smirking, I merely waved my stalks.  ‹Humans _are_ far too curious.›

“Enquiring minds _must_ know.”

‹No, they mustn’t.›

The lightness of mood lasted for a few minutes, the both of us smiling and, for her part, giggling.  Yet seriousness did return.  “Are you guys _sure_ there’s a spy?  This would have been a perfect chance.”

‹You assume our spy would have known to contact inside the base for assistance,› I reminded.  ‹Everyone has been monitored and Mertil reports no unusual movements, but hunting for spies is a waiting game.›

“So you’re not going to go stick Yeerks in our heads, huh?”

‹It is an option, but I am against such an intrusion.  It would not build trust.›

“No, mental rape really doesn’t.”

‹Agreed.›

The human sighed and leaned heavily against me, and out of habit I brought my arm up to keep her steady.  “I wish this was all over,” she murmured into my side.

‹As do I.›  Trying for cheer I didn’t feel, I said, ‹Keep hope, for perhaps it soon will be.›

“Yeah, if the Andalites screw us over.”

The words hurt and I mentally flinched.  ‹We are endeavoring to prevent that from happening.›

“I just miss how everything was.  Don’t you, Elfangor?  Don’t you miss how it was?  I want everything to go back to how it was then.”

‹The problem with going back to _then_ is that we still have to come back to _now_ ,› I said softly.

“Yeah.  Crappy deal.  But if you could go back to any time, when would you?”

My arms loosened and I pulled away.  ‹I am not a fan of time travel.›

She was exasperated with me.  “God, Elfangor, don’t be so literal.  I just asked when you were happiest, that’s all.”

Awkwardly I got to my hooves and held out a hand to help her up.  ‹I have learned that when one focuses on the happiness of the past, one cannot see the happiness in the present.›

From the ground she looked at me curiously before finally pulling herself up.  “Elfangor, that doesn’t mean you can’t remember the other parts of your life that were good and happy at the same time.”

My smile twisted.  ‹Sometimes, for me, I find that it does.›

There was barely any light to see her expression.  “That, Elfangor, could be one of the saddest things you have ever said.”

‹I know.  We should get back to the others.›

 ****

Deftly ignoring the giggles, I sighed dramatically.  ‹I fear I shall remain poor at this game.›

Sara took over the jumped pieces, gloating with the watching Hork-Bajir children.  “It’s okay, Mr. Elfangor.  You just got to practice checkers more.”

“You get better soon,” Canda said, patting my side.

“Practice,” chimed Bock.

‹Indeed.›  I moved another piece after a moment’s deliberation of the board.  ‹Your turn.›

Sara bit her lip and the Hork-Bajir audience leaned closer.  I smiled at the sight.  Checkers had become a favorite Hork-Bajir children’s game, something they could understand quickly and easily.  More than one member of the human camp had been asked for a game, and the children quickly found their favorites for rematches.  Unsurprisingly, it was against those who were either actually poor players or allowed the other side to win.

(I was the latter, just to be clear.  There was little reason not to humble myself into a loss when it gave a little one such pleasure.)

Sara had caught me in a rare moment for both of us.  A free moment for me, outside her mother’s watch, and her own timidity long forgotten, Rachel’s youngest had approached me and slyly asked for a game.  Hork-Bajir children stood in the distance as an audience, and all jumped happily when I agreed.

Sometimes I caught myself wondering what the young humans thought about this war.  Jordan was a constant pressure in demanding she join the fight now, and it was a side that her mother and I were, for once, joined on.  She was still too young.

It did not help our arguments that she was now the same age that Rachel had been those short – but oh so long –years ago. 

Yet it was difficult to determine when a child had grown enough to accept such a responsibility.  A being was not magically more mature at a certain age, they had not transformed so much in the passing a few minutes or an hour or a day.  It was just, at some point, they were mature, and for each person this occurred at a different time in their life.  Yes, at a certain age Andalite young were expected to willingly defend and protect, but there was always a subtle concern on if they were ready. 

But, then again, even if they weren’t, I doubted many elder Andalites would humiliate them in saying they could not fight.

And so I was at cross-roads between my culture, heritage, sensibilities, moralities, the very breadth of what I was and am.  And I still sided with Naomi. 

At least Sara did not have a temper with me (yet).

Near the end of the game, when I had few pieces, I started making an effort, though I did lose.  Mind, with my remaining checkers, I could have won, especially since Sara was not very proficient at the game, but where was the pride in winning against a child?  Besides, in my attempting to win would only have drawn out the game longer.  Sometimes one had to consider the options and cut their losses, especially in a child’s game.

I was at the start of the next game with young Bock – who was being assisted by the others, and my own comments when I would say I hoped he wouldn’t move _that_ particular piece – when a rush a wind startled all of us.  The young fell to the side in surprise while I blinked at the rapid appearance of Erek, whose face was grim.

‹What has happened?› I demanded, jumping to my hooves, while around us I saw the other warriors rushing towards us.

“Ms. McCoy has been captured, Prince Elfangor,” Erek said.

After a pause, my eye stalks rose.  ‹The _nothlit_?  What has happened?  The _Escafil device,_ is it secure?›  Fool, I mentally berated myself.  The worst has happened, because of you.

“What’s going on?” Eva demanded.

‹One of the _nothlits_ has been captured,› I growled.

“Oh, crap,” one of the children said.

“It has always been a calculated risk, Prince Elfangor, but it is not their fault.  Their meeting was attacked.  Mr. Kaughton barely escaped alive and all those they were speaking with were killed.”

‹And the device?› I pressed.

“It is secure, for now.  This meeting was merely them getting a feel for the Yeerks.  They were never careless with your Gift,” he said, reproachful.

“Fat lot of good that’ll do, now that they have him,” Rachel said.  “They infest him—”

“Oh, the irony,” Travis muttered.

“—and it’s good-bye everything!  They know the Taxxons are going to help us, they know about us, they know about the Chee, they know _everything_!”

“They have Ms. McCoy,” Erek corrected, as if any of them were concerned about the proper pronoun.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Cassie asked.

“How long do we have to salvage this?” Eva corrected.

Erek looked at me.  “They won’t infest her, not with how things are now with the Yeerks, and the Yeerk who has her won’t risk losing the power.  They are torturing her for answers.”

It was hard to tell if that was better or worse for her, and I did feel a swell of pity.  ‹She won’t speak.›

“What are you saying, of course she will to save her own neck!” Lewis said.

If it had been the former Visser, I would have agreed, but not Ms. Elphaba.  ‹No, not her.  At least not right away.›  How long could she hold out?  Hours, days, weeks?  ‹Where is she being held?›

“We are lucky, it is not on the Pool or Blade ship.  But it will be hard to get to.”

Of course it would be.  But we had to save her, I had to, because however reluctant I was to be her ally, however much I despised her former species, I was responsible for her.  By my actions, I created her, just as I created these children, these _Animorphs_ , and perhaps even the Hork-Bajir.  We all listened to Erek tell us how to get to the rescue.  It was just before we left that another question rose.

“Erek, who’s the Yeerk?” Matilda asked.

“Iniss 335.  He is the reason Ms. McCoy is being held on Earth, to get the glory and power for himself as revenge on Visser One.  Visser One almost had him executed, though Iniss was tortured for his accused incompetence in not realizing he was living with an Animorph.”  By this point, the holographic eyes met Jake’s.

“Tom,” he breathed.  It sounded like he was unsure if he should be happy or sad that his brother was still alive, and instead had chosen pained.

Erek nodded, even if it was unnecessary.  “Yes.  Tom.”

We were silent until I felt a tug on my arm, and I looked down with a surprised shock.  I had forgotten about Sara and her friends, we all might have.  “Does this mean you will save Cousin Tom now, Mr. Elfangor?” she asked eagerly, with bright blue eyes and faith and trust, missing only the pixie dust to make her fly with happiness. 

It took a moment to get a coherent thought.  ‹I promise we will try, Sara,› I said gently.

There could be nothing more terrible than a young child hugging you, when they must have not heard the _try_ part of the statement.  “This will make everyone _so happy_!  I’m going to go tell Mom and Uncle Steve and Aunt Jean!” she rushed off crying before I could protest, the Hork-Bajir following, and the movement overturned the checkers board.

I looked at Jake, pained.  ‹I did say _try_.  We can only try.›

He gave a strained smile, accepting my apology.  “I know, Elfangor.”

“Well, we’re damn-well gonna do more than try!” Rachel said.  “That Yeerk’s going down.  We’re not disappointing my sister.”

“We better save Tom,” Eva muttered to Matilda as talk of the methods and planning started.  “Otherwise they might kill Elfangor if we fail.”

“And here I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I just don’t like the thought of dragging his heavy-ass carcass into a shallow grave.”

‹Your concern is noted,› I said, interrupting their chatter.  ‹It would be better noted if you assisted in creating a viable rescue plan for all parties involved.›

To my surprise, and the surprise of any who had not overheard their whispering, they started giggling like silly preteens, the infectious sort of laughter than eventually made, if not more giggles, small smiles.  It was completely inappropriate and ill-timed, and yet, until Toby Hamee arrived, the emotion circled like a wave around us, desperate and demanding.  But in the wake, after everyone stilled and turned serious, the air was different.  Bleak as our situation was, with Tom’s Yeerk torturing information from Elphaba, information that could bring great disaster to us, we were prepared to face it.  Maybe not overcome, but we could face it with a calmness that we held with other less important battles.

Perhaps Mr. Hope – and what an appropriate name – was right.  Laughter can transform almost unbearable tears into something bearable, even hopeful, at least for a little while.

 ****

To get to the _nothlit_ , we had to pass into no-man’s land, or the area , we had to pass into no-man’s land, or the area the Yeerks had purposefully destroyed.  Not that it was a _no-man’s_ land.  There were still humans there, that hid and cowered in fear, unable or unwilling to escape, and there were still animals.  A cat was not going to bow to a Yeerk, and especially not a tough ally cat who had to fight for its meal.  The rodents did not care, the humans had left much waste to be dined up.  The pigeons were possibly too stupid to realize they were risking becoming target practice.  The mongrel dogs ate any creature or bit of garbage they could get.  And the insects … nothing could keep them away.  As paranoid as the Yeerks were, however desperate they tried to keep the animals away, the creatures returned or had never left. 

We slipped in easily, in the small forms we had.  As cats, dragonflies, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, cockroaches, and two hawks hiding in the clouds, we slunk into the area, making the slow and careful trek to the old office building.  While some made comments at the start about the sudden body, the carnage, near the end it ceased.

The building appeared, one of the few standing on the once busy business district.  The insects made the first wave, slipping into building whose BioFilters had ceased to work due to some very creative triangulating of Mertil’s energy dampeners that Erek had (rather unwillingly) set up. 

The door and windows are opened and the rest of them, save the aerial surveillance, rush in.  Under the protection of the grizzly, boar, and gorilla, we demorph and enter our better forms.

‹Any concerns?› I asked, eyes darting as I watched Matilda lose the rabbit ears, Eva lost the cheeks, Travis lost the fur except the natural human, Vicky’s whiskers and stripes faded.

‹Ax went to deal with the computers with Em, where Erek said they’d be anyway.  The others are buzzing around, trying to figure out where to go next,› Marco said.

‹Lindsay handling it all right?› Paul asked.

‹Tobias will keep her steady,› I assured.  While the traumatized warrior wasn’t one I could trust in a battle, she could handle this, she even volunteered for it.  There was no need to doubt her.  And if there was, Tobias could handle her, one way or another.

‹Let’s do this, we don’t have time to waste,› Rachel growled.

I frowned.  If it wasn’t for Mertil and Erek’s intervention, we would already be in trouble with the security cameras and filters. 

‹They are in the basement,› Michael’s shaky voice came.  ‹I can’t _see_ anything, but guys, this is bad.›

‹We have to save her,› Cassie agreed, just as shaken.

Now we had a location, and Gafinilan and Jake reported their teams had heard and were converging.  This is where things would get difficult, for one can’t plan a battle.

 ****

“She called me a fool for rescuing her,” I said once I heard movement from behind me.

“Which is why she knew you would,” Kaplin slurred, coming to my field of vision.  His jaw was broken, and a long scar ran over his face, removing his eye.  Assessing his injuries as he sat next to his partner, a vigil mocking in its pseudo-caring, I could not pretend or do him the disservice that it had been an elaborate ploy.  While some might have gone to this extreme, not this former-Yeerk.  “Because you are a fool.”

Since Elphaba’s return and a private chat about her health, the arrogant _nothlit_ seemed … preoccupied and distant, and some other emotion I couldn’t – wouldn’t – name.

“The Chee will keep you safe until you are recovered,” I said, staring instead at the unconscious _nothlit_.  Softened by the experience, I could admit she had been a pretty human, in a certain light, if one’s sensibilities turned that way.  Mine wouldn’t have, but I could see how another’s – a true human, that is, or maybe new human – could. 

“What are you going to do to that Yeerk?” Kaplin demanded.

“Free the host.  Depending on how that is achieved, we will go from there.”

“If he leaves voluntarily, I demand a few minutes alone with him.”

I refrained from saying he could not do much damage, at first because he was very wounded and would not be magically healed within a few days, and then, because I realized he did not to be much more healed to squish a Yeerk, and it would not take a few minutes to do so.

“Perhaps you should rest,” I said.

“Rest,” he sneered, and then winced at the pain it made.  “Because of _this_ , we’re stuck being worthless.  Hiding.  Pathetic.  Now the Yeerks, the damn Visser know about us, have our faces shown.  Hunting us down.”

“It is doubtful Visser One knows about you.  Iniss was attempting to gain power for himself.  It was a coup that failed, ultimately.  If anything, the Visser will think you killed, but likely Iniss’ efforts were secret except to his loyal followers.  And there are _very_ few of them left.”

“So says the great Beast.  Did you have fun killing them?”

The thanks I get for working to save these _nothlits_.  “I am sorry for your own losses.”

“We were always so careful.  How could it have happened?” Kaplin muttered.  “They just came from nowhere.”

There was nothing to say, no theories to give.  The Yeerks knew the Gift was being given, at least the rumors existed.  Rumors and secrets have a way to, eventually, making it to the unwanted ear.  For a second, I almost patted his shoulder in the consoling manner humans do, but I stopped myself before my hand made contact.  Instead, I awkwardly departed back to the Valley.

 ****

“That’s my baby!  You can’t just keep him like that!” Jean screamed, attempting to get into the cabin.  Thankfully, the Hork-Bajir guards were not easily passed.

“Mom, that’s _not_ Tom!” Jake yelled.

“Jake, don’t you dare talk about your brother like that,” Steve said.

“Isn’t there any way we can get this over faster?” Matilda asked.  “Or couldn’t you, just, sort of knock them unconscious.”

‹That would be wrong.›

“There’s nothing to but wait it out,” Eva said.  “Damn that Yeerk for being such an actor.”

‹It’s only for less than three days,› I said, watching the parents, cousins, and aunt be dragged away, all protesting as they heard the yells of “Mom, Dad!  It’s me!” coming from inside.

 ****

If there was still a doubt Tom was still infested, I didn’t think Jean and Steve could think of it.

“Let her go, Tom!” Steven ordered with all the authority a parental figure who had never been disobeyed and expect to remain with such a record can.

“Tom, please, what are you doing?” Jean pleaded, the knife at her throat and tears on her face.  The foolish woman was no doubt regretting the decision to free her son.

The children were morphing, prepared for the fight.  I could see Aximili’s snake form coming closer in the grass.

‹You cannot get away,› I said, ceasing the run to walk more sedately.

He whirled and looked at me.  “Stay away or I’ll kill her.”

“Tom!” his mother cried.

I cocked my head.  ‹Do so.  She is of no concern to me.  And it will make you easier to recapture when you lack a hostage.›

“You monster!”  It took Peter, Eva, and Matilda to keep Steve from attacking me.

Tom laughed.  “Do you think I won’t?  Where’s ickle Jakie, is he going to just stand by while his mother is killed before his eyes?  Oh, there you are.”

Jake stood staring behind me, and it was with shock I realized he had a Draco beam in his hand.  It wasn’t drawn, just hanging and ready to be used.

“Going to kill me, Killer?  Kill Mommy?”

“If I have to.  You won’t get away,” he said, raising the weapon.

“Jake, no!  That’s your brother!”

“Please, Tom, Jake, stop it!”

The animals around us circled, ready for killing or chasing, but threatening.  The other humans in the distance were staring, not knowing what to do, if they could _do_ anything.  Jordan and Sara were ordering their cousin to stop playing, Naomi’s eyes were darting around in disbelief that this was her nephew.

I was about to make a statement, to try and reason with the Yeerk (because I really didn’t want Jake’s mother to be killed, despite my words,) when a fierce roar filled the air, and it was with a speechless shock that a tiger – Jake’s tiger – erupted from the woods, followed by Gafinilan and Mertil.

‹Jake?!›

‹What the—›

‹Move, you fool!› Gafinilan roared, and suddenly my subconscious become conscious as I realized that Jake – no, not Jake, who? – wasn’t aiming the Dracon beam at his brother or his mother, but at me.  There was barely any time, there was no time to move, but the movement saved my life, as my entire left side screamed in pain.  Unable to stay upright at a sudden loss of muscle control, I collapsed to the ground in a bleeding, pained mass.

There were screams and yells, but I couldn’t focus through it all.  What felt like my insides leaking out must have been my insides leaking out, the pain and blood loss was making me lightheaded and sick, there was a darkness in the edges.  Was it my eyes closing or my eyes ceasing to function? 

The world around me started to shake and there was a bleary figure in my face.

“Morph, Elfangor!  Damnit, morph!  You are _not dying_ , do you hear me!”

‹… ow ….›

“Morph!”

‹ ...To …what?›

“Oh my god, what kind of idi – stay awake!” The world moved again, and my ears hurt from the pitch, which was a minor pain that distracted from the rest of my body.  “It doesn’t matter, morph, morph human!  Morph _something_!”

‹Oh … okay.›

Even in the pain, and haze, it was easy to focus on obeying an order.  I was a Prince, a warrior, I had to obey an order.  Even in the exhaustion, I had to obey.  In the middle, there was a blinding sort of pain that made me spasm, which was strange.  Morphing shouldn’t hurt.

And then the pain was gone and I laid gasping, trying to get my bearings. 

“It’s all right, you’re all right now.”  There were fingers in my hair, and I turned my face enough to see Matilda’s wet blue eyes staring down at me.  A smear of blue blood was on her cheek, some spots on her chin and nose. 

‹Elfangor, are you all right?›

‹Loren, how is he?›

“What’s going on?!”

The questions broke through and I pushed myself up and away, though I swayed trying to get to my feet.  She jumped up, clothing covered in blue blood, and steadied me.  “I am fine,” I croaked.

“I know, but I’m not.”  Her grip tightened in my hand for a moment.

The others were crowding too close to me, and I pushed them back, trying to straighten myself and determine what had happened.  Jake – the tiger – was pressing Jake – the not-Jake – down, growling and claws digging.  Tom was face-down into the dirt, unable to escape a gorilla’s hold, and Jean was crying in her husband’s arms, a faint bit of blood on her clothing.

“What happened?” I demanded.

‹She’s our traitor,› Jake growled.  ‹She tried to kill me, tried to help Tom get away.›

My eyes went over the humans, trying to determine who he meant.  “What?”

Mertil stepped forward.  ‹The alarm on my sensors went off, fluctuating life-signs.  And we saw a duplicate reading, we never noticed that before, I never thought to monitor for that, Prince Elfangor, I ….›

‹Mertil, this is not _your_ fault.›  Gafinilan glared.  ‹We rushed and managed to revive the boy before it was too late, and rushed here to save your life.›

I couldn’t understand, this plan didn’t make any sense.  Why attempt to kill me in such a fashion, so boldly?

“Vicky, why?” Michael whispered, collapsing closer to the trapped human.

My eyes darted around.  Yes, yes, that was the form missing.

“Why?” he repeated to his once-girlfriend.

Jake’s face twisted.  “Why not?  The Yeerks _are_ the future.  They will win.”

‹You little traitor, I’ll kill you myself!› Carlie yelled, or Rachel yelled, or they did at the same time.

“If you had only let us go, I could have been promoted!  I could have told everyone about the infamous bandits and ended this now.  But you made us stay.  But then you gave us the power to morph, and I knew if I could just get it.  And then there was always more to find out.”

‹Jeez, she’s monologuing, she’s crazy,› Marco said. 

“I’m not crazy!  The Yeerks gave me everything!  I wouldn’t have even been on that stupid camping trip if I didn’t have to date Michael, had to leave Ceran behind to get killed by your attacks!  With everything I was learning, we would have made if off this planet.  But you killed her!  You blew up the Pool!  She was my friend and you killed her!” Jake’s voice roared.

‹So you shot my brother in the back, you honorless creature!› Aximili spat.

“Honor!  You killed a pool of defenseless thousands!  Where is _that honor_?  You condone those traitors in turning against their truth!”

“And you told Tom,” I said, coming closer.  “How did you know where to go, how to find him?”

Tom laughed from his sitting position.  “It was easy.  You had your flight, your rounds.  She knew where to find me.  The first time, oh, I was surprised.  It was hard for one-sided conversation.”

“And you were also so much freer if you saw Cassie or Jake or Marco in the background, whenever you were talking.  And you and Loren were _always_ talking, it was disgusting.”

Next to me, Matilda tightened her grip, either in anger or shame or support or … something.

“I almost tried to ruin your attempt to save the filthy Yeerk traitor, tried to warn Tom, but I couldn’t,” Jake’s voice continued, bitter and biting.  Dimly I tried to remember her role in the battle, but the memory was so distant, and it was over as soon as it began.  Tom hadn’t had many allies with him at the time.  “But I could help him get free, end you all.”

“You couldn’t have thought you could get away, not this way,” Eva said, looking between the two of them.  “Jake kills Elfangor, we get him, and we’d never believe he would.  Even if he was going to save his brother.”

“Mommy-dearest gave me an opportunity I couldn’t resist, I admit.  _Jake_ was supposed to visit me, free me, and we were going to slip away.  After those traitors were destroyed, you took the Cube back for safe-keeping.  She saw you with it.  She was going to take it tonight as Jake, give me the power, and we’d escape.”

My eyebrows rose.  “The _Escafil device_ is not here.  I left it with our undefeated allies.”

“You lie!  I saw it!  I saw you with it, putting it in Loren’s tent!”

“I assure you, there is nothing there.”  Indeed, I hadn’t entered her tent in many weeks.

“You _idiot_!” Tom roared.

‹How did you think killing Mom would help?› Jake demanded.  ‹It ruined everything.›

“She freed me.  I would have killed her quietly if she hadn’t turned around, slipped away.”  Even he had to realize that would have been impossible, with so many guards.  He must have been desperate, his time must be running out.  Instead of waiting for his partner to return, he had taken matters into his own hands, and ultimately brought his own failure.

“No, no, no,” Jean sobbed.  “You didn’t want to, Tom, I saw you!  You hesitated, you tried to stop yourself.  Don’t say such things.”

“SHUT UP, YOU PATHETIC CREATURE!” he yelled, eyes mad and wild.  “I would have killed you, I would have gotten away!  The Yeerks would have rained down on you!”

I was getting too much of a headache.  “Bind them, and keep a firm watch on both of them.  _And_ their visitors.”

‹First she has to demorph,› Jake growled.  ‹I’m not letting her get stuck as me.  And if she doesn’t, she dies.›

“Jake,” Michael pleaded, and would have pleaded more if Paul hadn’t come and led his friend away, glaring at the laughing mockery.

The children took care of rebinding the humans, and I wiped my face with my hand.  “Oh, Ellimists.”

‹We almost lost you, Elfangor,› Gafinilan said needlessly.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

‹Even if you could have survived, you would have been unable to stand.  It severed your backbone.›

“ _Thank you_ for that _unnecessary_ information.”

‹You could thank me for saving your life.  If I hadn’t warned you, you wouldn’t have survived.›

I scowled at his expression.  “Thank you.”

‹And now we are even.›

“For what?” I demanded.  “I have never saved your life in such a fashion.”

“Elfangor, just shut up,” Matilda said next to me, rubbing my arm.

‹I don’t understand, who was the Andalite the traitor saw,› Mertil asked, ‹if it was not you?›

“Ax,” Matilda said.  “He made me one of those woven Andalite basket when I told him my box of, you know, things for personal hygiene stuff, went missing because of Carlie and Emily.  He used bits of wire and metal to reinforce it.  It’s really pretty.”

‹They mistook your brother for you?  I am blind and I would not make that mistake!› Gafinilan chuckled darkly.

‹To our benefit.›

“Come on,” Matilda said, pulling on my arm.

“What?”

“You need to get clean.”

I looked down at myself and realized she was right.  My legs and side were sticky blue, and then I noticed my arms and hands appeared faintly cyanotic. My gaze back up, I said the first thing that made sense.  “So do you.”

“Yeah, I know.  Come on.”

 ‹Disgusting,› Gafinilan snorted, and he laughed when Mertil told him the female was making a rude hand gesture at him.

 ****

If worrying we had a traitor in our midst divided everyone, the confirmation of having one was even worse.  Vicky’s betrayal hung in the air, a Collaborator.  A sympathizer I could have accepted, grudgingly, but not one who actively worked to destroy us, who _shot me in the back_.

The talk was what to do with her.  As one who could morph, she had to be watched constantly, for it would be so easy for her to escape, to tell everything to the Yeerks. There was a camp for her execution.  It was the proper Andalite way, and I would not argue the option.  There was the other suggestion to force her to become a _nothlit_.  Personally, death would be kinder.

However, I would leave the decision to the humans.  She was one of them, and they would punish her as they deemed fit.

There was something else I had to do, and I slipped into the cabin that held Tom.  Our prisoners were held separately.

The Controller scowled up at me, his arms tight behind his back, an expression of pure hatred and insolence.

“You’re time runs short,” I said, resting on my knees in front of him.

“You won’t win, I’ll get away soon.”

“No, you won’t,” I said.  “You will starve.  How much time do you have left, a day, less than?”

“What do you care, Beast?” he snapped.

“I don’t care for you, Iniss.  I do this for Tom Berenson.  There is no reason for him to go through that pain and torture.  It is only sad that by sparing him I spare you.”

He sneered.  “Pretty words, do you practice them on those humans?  They must think you so very noble, so great, Beast.  If only they knew the truth about Andalites.”

“You would be surprised at what those humans know about Andalites.  Leave the human.”

“I will not.”

“Then you will die.  Slowly, by starvation.  It is your choice.”  I stood up and made to leave.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

He looked at me with a calculating gaze.  “If I leave this pathetic body, what will you give me?”

“Your life seems a fair trade.”

“I want the morphing ability.”

“You have nothing to trade for it.  I don’t care for your life.”

“But you care for Tom.”

“No.  I care for his brother and cousin.  I feel pity for him, yes, but I would not give you such a power.  And I think he support me in this.”

He fought against the bindings.  “Beast, you and your pathetic words.  You gave the ability to my brethren.  How are _they_ better than me?”

“One, they have never attempted to shoot me in the back.”

“That wasn’t me and you know it.”

I stared at him for a long time, trying to weight the benefits.  Finally, a terrible idea came as I remembered Kaplin, as I remembered exactly what had happened with regards to that Yeerk.  Worse, I was going to follow it, and I knew it made me a terrible creature.  “You want the Gift?  Very well, I will give it to you.”

He gawked at me.  “Liar.”

“No. I will.  I will give you the same conditions I gave the first Yeerk.”

“And what was that?” he asked suspiciously.

I smiled.  “You must wait one Earth year.”

“ _One year_?!  You’re insane!”

Shrugging, I said, “He agreed.  He left his host willingly and a year to the day, I gave him the Gift.”

“You would never give me the power.”

“I have given Human and Yeerk the Gift.  My record stands for itself.”

He sat there staring up at me, trying to read my human face.  I let him.  “One month.”

“One year.”

“Three months!”

“One year.”

“Six months!”

“Two years,” I countered.

Swearing in Yeerkish, he shifted and glowered.  I made sure to stay out of his kicking distance.  After several minutes of growing, he screamed, “Fine, one year!  You rotten grass-eater.”

“Insulting me does not keep you in my good graces.  However, it is a deal.  In a year, if I am alive, I will give you the gift.”

“What’s the point if I don’t even get a guarantee I’ll get it?  Oh, I see, you think without your orders, your little band of humans would kill me.”  He laughed.

My lips pressed together.  “None of my humans will do you harm, I promise you, whether I am dead or alive.”

My words made his stare at me.  “But they wouldn’t give me the power?”

“In their defense and your belief in my sanity and abilities, I do plan to make every effort to not die within the next year.”

Despite himself, the Controller laughed at my humor.  “Fine, let’s get this done with.”

Nodding, I took the pail and scooped a cup of water before moving to hold it next to Tom’s ear.  It was within a few seconds that Tom’s demeanor changed, the Yeerk emerged.  Almost immediately Tom thrashed, screaming, “No, no!  You can’t!  Don’t _give_ him what he wants!  You don’t know him!  Kill him!  _Kill him!_ ”

His head caught the cup I was too slow to take back, that was held too loosely in my grip, splattering the contents to the ground, and with a manic expression, the human twisted and rolled and squished the Yeerk into the mud, laughing.

I watched dispassionately and Tom raised his head.  “He’ll never get that power now,” he whispered with a macabre grin.

“Yes.” I looked at the dead creature.  Why did the small things always seem to do the most damage.  “And I kept my word.  None of _my_ humans harmed him.”  I met his gaze.

His face broke and I removed his binds just in time to catch him from falling into the dirt.  “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.  I tried, I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” he sobbed.

Awkwardly, I let him lean against me, and I was not a little relieved when other humans appeared.

“Tom?” Jake whispered, eyes darting between the mud that had been a Yeerk and his broken brother.

The human cowered in my arms, as if scared of his blood kin, and wailed, “Jake, Jake, I’m so sorry, I tried, forgive me, please, please, I didn’t mean –”

Jake rushed inside and hugged his brother tightly, crying silently, and I tried to disentangle myself from them, tried to keep my gaze away so this private moment wouldn’t be intruded upon, to get _out_ of here.

There was another sound and when I looked up, I saw Jean and Steve lingering back, scared but desperate and painfully hopeful.  At my nod, they came closer and hesitantly touched their elder son.  Tom raised his head and choked snot.  “Mommy.  I didn’t … I _tried so hard_ … please—”

“My baby!  My poor, poor baby,” she whispered, enveloping them.  “My poor babies.”

Even Steve was crying, thought possibly trying not to.  I finally managed to crawl away and get to my feet, and left the grieving, relieving family, pushing away the onlookers and dismissing the guards.  A smile at my humans conveyed enough of a message for Cassie to start crying and Rachel, to almost do the same and hug the nearest person to her, which was Marco.  The boy shot a smug look at Tobias, who remained not jealous and laughed when Marco appeared to have difficulty breathing. 

I was going to tell those not present the news when Naomi grabbed my shoulder.  “Thank you,” she said.

“There is nothing to thank.”

Anger flashed across her face, and she was Rachel in twenty years.  “You stupid freak, I don’t care.  Thank you.”  She rushed away before I could respond again, going to her youngest children.  Sara beamed brightly at me and I inclined my head at her before going back to my business.

 ****

Tom’s recuperation gave way to a small party that must have overwhelmed him.  More than one Hork-Bajir attempted to cheer him with “Free or dead,” and I don’t think anything was well for him until Eva took him away to speak privately in her tent.  He did not return miraculously better, but he smiled a bit more truer.  His mother refused to let him go far, his father kept a constant gaze on him. 

For someone that had been on their proverbial shit-list, I now received very warm gazes.

Which ended when Tom asked in the middle of everything if he could fight as well, could morph.

“No!  You’ve done enough!”

“It’s too soon, you’re not ready,” his father added, sending me the so-nonverbal-it-was-verbal opinion on that.

“Everything he made me do, I have to – please,” he pleaded them, me, himself.  “The things I did.”

“It wasn’t you, Tommy, it wasn’t you,” Naomi said.

“But it was!  I can help you!  I know things, I know the codes, the locations of entrances, the patrols!  I can help bring them down.”

‹If you wish it, I will not turn you away.›

And just like that, I was back on the shit-list.  Even the children, especially Jake and Rachel, did not look kindly upon me.

 ****

The joy of Tom’s freedom had to give way to the despair of Vicky’s betrayal.  The humans had spoken in their tribunal, and the verdict was to force her to become a _nothlit_.  No one wanted to execute, because no matter how angry they were, most could not murder in cold blood. 

The problem was, how were we to force her to morph, to acquire a morph, to stay in morph?  Someone brought up the suggestion of infesting her, but it was quickly countered by the fact that the person would not be able to leave the morphed traitor.  There was a brief thought that she might morph on her own, but none of the humans wanted to give her the power to make the choice.  None of them trusted her. 

I didn’t blame them, but if they wanted her to be a _nothlit_ , there was no choice.  There was no trickery we could do, no way to make her go into a lesser form.

I heard Howard comment under his breath that she’d make a fine bird.

I also noticed his loaded gun.  Perhaps he was not against performing an execution, but, then again, perhaps he thought of it as nothing more than a hunt.  Oops, accidentally shot a _nothlit_ , I didn’t realize that was her.  Drumstick?

Our worries, though, were wasted.  Vicky was not going to sit quietly and let her fate be decided, she hadn’t.  There had been a few attempts at escape, but for some reason, the attempts worried me.  It felt like she was toying with us.  What forms did she have?

And then she showed that she had be toying with us.

Cassie wasn’t our only _estreen_.  With a subtleness the guards missed, she morphed to a skunk and released the smell attack on the unsuspecting guards before slipping out of the loosened bonds.  By the time the alarm was sounded, she had disappeared into the woods.

Everyone was panicked.  If she got away, everything would be over.  She knew everything, all the secrets, our tentative plans.  The hunt was on, Toby Hamee directing her troops and I the humans, sent out in the air and woods.  The entire camp was sent out to look for her, we spared no one.  I rushed to the ship, hoping against hope they already knew.

It was along the way I saw the wounded Hork-Bajir, wounded and worse.  I bent to check the condition of a few, trying to think of a creature that she could have that would have done this damage.  Another Hork-Bajir, perhaps, there were no teeth marks, smooth and clean, single.

Andalites cannot be snuck up upon.  At least, not without much forethought.  I heard the noises and stood at the ready, but I already saw the shape approaching and my temper reared as my thoughts fled.

‹How _dare_ you?›

She extended her arms.  ‹Do you think?  It was the most vile, disgusting thing I could think of becoming.  Isn’t that what my punishment is supposed to be?  I would rather die than be trapped in it.›

‹Trust me, if you do not demorph immediately, I will arrange that.›

We circled each other.  ‹I can see why the Yeerks want Andalites as hosts.  This is remarkable creature.›  She twisted the tail.

I struggled to contain my temper.  This was no time to use emotion.  She was playing me, I would not allow it.  I was the _true_ Andalite, and though what I faced was a mirror of myself, it was not me.  ‹You seem to have stolen much from us.›

‹Amazing, isn’t it?  Acquiring creates its own little amnesiac.›

‹You can’t win against me.›

‹Maybe you can’t win against me.›  She made a motion to attack, but I didn’t fall for it.  ‹I didn’t want you to find me so fast, I had hoped to deal with a few of your favorite people like I had done to those Hork-Bajir.  Your brother, perhaps.  Tobias.  Especially your little sweetheart, Loren.›  She imitated kissing sounds. 

I would not give her the satisfaction to know her words struck me.

‹Nothing to say to that, _Prince_ Elfangor?›

‹They wouldn’t have fallen for it.  There’s a certain … odor about you.›

She laughed.  ‹Do you think so?  I thought it was just regular stench.›

‹You should have escaped while you had the chance.›

‹And let you live?  You killed Ceran, so many innocent Yeerks.  You still do.  You Andalites are the pigs of the universe, disgusting. You should be put down, or at least put to good use.  I wonder if you taste anything like venison.›

‹Humans, I’ve heard, taste like pork.›

‹You’d know.›

‹Hardly.  And enough talk.  If you think you can fight like an Andalite, let’s dance.› I sprung.

As much natural talent in tail fighting I – or my DNA – possess, nothing can take the place of years of training.  Like in karate, while a human could innately imitate and strike, it takes skill and practice to know where to strike, how to strike, when to strike.

There was no satisfaction in taking down a novice, and even less when it is your own face.  She realized somewhere in the middle I was the better, it wasn’t like fighting Hork-bajir in a Hork-Bajir body, and the thought made her more reckless.  She didn’t even use her stalks to monitor her surroundings, to see the audience that was slowly building.  Birds and Hork-Bajir in the trees, predators in the brush, Andalites alongside.

‹Demorph.  I have no desire to kill you.›

‹I can’t say the same.›

‹Don’t make me kill you.›  Kill myself.

She dove, and it was a foolish, mad move, and I caught her in the front legs, felt the right shatter, and swooped up to catch the tail before it could fall, twisted it in such a way that blade was lopped cleanly off, all under three seconds.  She was screaming and collapsing before she knew she should be in pain, rolling to the ground.

‹Demorph,› I ordered again, harsher.

She laughed through the pain.  ‹Never.  You’ll have to kill me.›  Her hind legs kicked, a desperate ploy, and the tail moved instinctively, whipping blood.

‹You can’t want to live like this, in this state of shame and disgrace.  Utterly helpless.  _Demorph_!›

Was it my own DNA’s stubbornness or was it all hers, but she forced the body to stand again.  ‹No.  Come on, kill me.›

‹No.›  I would not kill her, so helpless and already dying.  I would not kill myself.

‹Do it!› she screamed, attempting to move forward but staggering on the broken leg.

‹You are not worth it.›

‹Coward!  I’ll get you, I’ll kill your stupid fan club, I’ll kill Ax, the brat, your path – ›

The gunshot caught us all by surprise and I reared back instinctively before watching with horror as my body fell to the ground, fell and landed to show a hole in the head.  I could only stare at the still body, at the _tailless_ body, my body, my brain matter, _oh my_ _tail blade **right there** not attached to my **tail** …_.

If I had been human, I would have been sick.

With my stalks, I saw Howard drop the gun down with a firm expression on his face, ignoring all of the other humans.  “She was going to kill my nephew,” he said simply in a dead voice before turning back to camp.

It was just an excuse.  Everyone knew Howard held little affection for his nephew … but, then again, perhaps he spoke the truth.  Blood – even imagined blood – can be thick, and for all Howard’s gruffness and unpleasantness, there had to be, was … something worthwhile in him, in all humans.

“Elfangor,” Matilda said, rushing to me and deftly ignoring the body.  “Are you all right, did she get you?” 

‹I am fine.›

“You’re trembling,” she whispered.

‹I am fine.› 

Aximili approached, eyes darting between the corpse and me.  ‹What should we do with ... her?›

‹Burn the body.  I don’t want Eva dragging my carcass into a shallow grave, after all.›

‹Thanks for thinking of me,› the lion said.

“Ax, take him to get cleaned up.  Now.”

I almost said I wasn’t a child, I was hardly even wounded, but Aximili was already herding me away like a little one, and I went more for his benefit than my own.  Seeing me fight like that, seeing my body, no doubt it traumatized him as much as me.

‹She got what she wanted, at least,› I heard Gafinilan comment.  ‹She got Elfangor dead.›

‹Gafinilan!› Mertil scolded sharply.

However, the gallows humor made me laugh, and I laughed as I followed my brother, ignoring his concerned gaze.  At least I did not look _so_ bad tailless.  That was good to know.  Yes.

Tailless.  The shudder went down my back and to the tail I, for now, still had.

 ****

There wasn’t time to dwell on the corpse that wasn’t me.  I could only assume they followed my statement to burn the body, and maybe stalked the ground for good measure, for none of the others said anything about it.  It wasn’t like it was an omen.

Probably not, anyway.

Was it?

We talked with Tom, pressed him for details and names.  He was glad to comply, and Jake hung over his shoulder like a protective shadow, the younger brother protecting the elder, such a topsy-turvy notion.  With his information, a shadow of a plan solidified, the details started arriving.  Through Tom we could get into the Pool ship, next to Visser One.  Human, Hork-Bajir, Taxxon, and Andalite, we created our plan, a plan that could destroy the Yeerk foothold on Earth.

It was going to be tricky.  Worse, it was going to be dangerous and oh so very deadly.  People were going to die, there was no way around it. Our human military allies were going to give their lives for this diversion of Jake’s, because that was what we needed.

Despite my words to the female, I didn’t enjoy sending warriors to certain death.  I respected them for it, admired them, but I didn’t enjoy it, didn’t enjoy knowing my words made it so I could survive in the place of another.  Couldn’t that be considered cowardice?  There were comments on the ship about such superior officers, ones who put themselves into safer positions while sending good warriors to die.  I never wanted to be one of those, and I didn’t think I was trying to be so, but I felt guilty.

Maybe I really felt guilty because of what we were asking Tom to do.  Yes, he had volunteered, but his emotional state was still fragile.  But everyone had to acknowledge we didn’t have time for therapy, for him to heal naturally.  (There was never going to be enough time for that.)  He was the only one who could play the part of the enemy, would could give Visser One information to start our diversion.  He was the only one who knew the codes of the ships, the systems.  (Everyone usually forgot that the host could learn the secrets of their controllers just as the Yeerk learned the secrets of the host, it would just take longer.) 

Cassie would go with, as a Yeerk.  The sensitive BioFilters needed be able register the presence of a Yeerk in the host.  It was unfair to ask of Tom, but he put on a stoic face that barely hid the fear.  It was clear the brothers wished they could work together, but Cassie was a good alternative.  She was kind and patient, and she would support Tom with her nature.  Besides, I secretly thought it was best that the two brothers did not know _all_ of each other’s secrets.  While I love my brother, I would rather have anyone else in my head knowing my worst deeds than Aximili.

So with all our die set, our messengers went out to each tangent of our allies.  In two days, our plan would come to in effect.  Two days for Cassie and Tom to play their parts – to pretend to feed on Kandrona and still be an unwilling host, to send all the information about the inside of the ship to Mertil’s receiver – and two days for Arbron and his Taxxons to get ready, for General Doubleday to ready his men for death.

Two days for us to save Earth from the Yeerks.  And the Andalites.

It was such a terrible plan, all things considered.  (Was it terrible because it could _work_ or because it was so very _terrible_?)  There was little doubt Visser One would believe Tom, especially with the “roughing up” he had been put through.  In the two days, Tom and Cassie would work to get Taxxons and Hork-Bajir onto both Blade and Pool Ships.  Aximili will have infiltrated with them originally, hidden as vile the Earth parasite, the tick, in Tom’s cheek.  Damning myself again for not exchanging my translator chip, I had to allow the plan.  Slowly but surely, we would all be slipped on, except for the few that had to remain on Earth as a decoy.  But it was just all so dangerous, I wished ….

… I wished for everything and nothing.  For time to stop and for it to speed up.  For everyone to live and everyone to die, because death might be better than the failure. 

I wished for pie.

Ellimists, I wished for pie.

 ****


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End?

I had to get away, just for a little while, on that final night.  If everything went according to plan, it would all be over.  Everything.  Earth had the chance to be safe.  And perhaps … perhaps it could be the start of the end of the war. 

_If_ everything went according to plan.

It was too great for my head to understand and believe, even though I had been part of the reason it came about.  This war … it could end.  And I _would be_ playing a major role in that.  It was too much to believe that I could hold such a role.  I was a simple warrior. 

What was even worse than possibly being responsible in bringing the end of the war – as if that could possibly be terrible! – was that I was the point in which the war _might not be brought to end_.  If the plan did fail, I would be the mistake everyone cited. 

And there was a very good chance, in twenty-four hours, I would be dead. 

It wasn’t a morbid thought; it was just that for some reason, ever since I saw the traitor dead as my corpse, the feeling danced along my hooves.  I’d never _felt_ that before, never felt the macabre shudder, the looming of the Grim.  Some creatures could feel it, sense when their time was coming.  It wasn’t that I thought myself capable of the talent, but the feeling was so very, very unsettling.  It had to be true.  It had to be.

What was I without this war?  Nothing but a broken Andalite warrior, a disgrace.  How could I even _survive_ outside this war?  The Ellimist once asked if I should even be alive.  Maybe I should already be dead, maybe he pulled some thread of the universe that gave me this borrowed time.  The Trickster toyed with my life and my usefulness was coming to an end.

Was what I said vanity, thinking I had to be in this war?

But then, why bring me back to it?  Because I had a part to play in it.  Why ask if I should even be alive, when he knew?  And if he was asking, then he was only making me know that the answer was probably not, that I owed my continued existence to him.  My life was his to take away.

The only thing I could choose was how I would die.  In battle.  Protecting the humans.  With bravery and honor.  Saving Earth and saving my people from themselves, if I was really lucky.

So, I had to get away – away from the humans, those annoying, panicking parents and the children, even if it was just their heavy presense in spirit while they were on the enemy ships, waiting; the Hork-Bajir, innocent and depressing with their “Free or dead” battle cry and Seer Toby Hamee’s fanatical interest in this ending; the Andalites, Mertil, Gafinilan, and those overhead in their Domes.  I just wanted to be away.

So … I ran.  It was a cool night, the air was fresh, the sky clear to see the sky and her stars, the moon in its third quarter.  It was the sort of night that should be before everything goes to hell, the kind one should have as a last night.  Perfect. 

I didn’t run long or far, just two miles.  I didn’t want to get away, just be away, to clear by head of the worries and panics, to settle myself.  There was a spot, a small hill that ended with trees, and it gave a beautiful view of everything around it.  That’s where I went, and I just threw my head back and looked up at the small lights, let the wind ruffle my fur.  The stars overhead remained oblivious to me, and I traced over Earth’s constellations.  It was strange that so many light years separated our worlds, and yet both had stars that told stories.  Different ones, of course, but still.  It made me wonder if all cultures did.

Well, not the Hork-Bajir.  I knew they thought the stars were flowers of Mother Sky.  But maybe other races.  Perhaps.  Something that joins all of us. 

I stood for twelve minutes when I recognized the familiar sounds of something approaching, and my tail poised to attack.  But my eye saw the creature, my ears heard the demorphing, and I sighed at the loss of solitude when Matilda fully appeared.  ‹Why are you here?›

“Why are you?” she countered, standing up.

I was annoyed and perhaps it slipped into my words.  ‹I do not have to explain my actions to you. I merely wished to be …,› I said, waving a hand vaguely, ‹away.  Now why are _you_ here?›

She came closer to me, and I saw her wince because she wasn’t wearing any shoes.  When she was level with me, her expression made me wonder if she was going to admit she had been worried about me for some unknown reason, but she merely said, “It’s a nice night.”

Letting go of a deep breath and noticing she didn’t answer my question, I rolled my stalk eye I kept on her and replied, ‹Yes, it is.  Is there something you require?›

“Just good company.”

‹I fear that you will find that in short supply here.›

Matilda shrugged and looked up at the sky.  “We’ll just have to see.”  For a moment she was silent.  “Can you show me where your world is now?”

Yes, I had promised her I would show her, and I scanned the stars.  Ah, there.  It was not that bright, though.  ‹I doubt you will see the stars.  Their light is not bright enough to be noticeable in a sky,› I said apologetically, and I turned and pointed to the southwest.  Matilda tried to follow my finger, but I could see she could not make out any speck of light in particular.  She looked upset and … disappointed. 

I tried another approach.  ‹Do you know any Earth constellations?  Past Orion and the Dippers?› I added with a smile.

She smiled sheepishly.  “No.”

‹Very well.›  I looked at the sky, trying to find a pattern, something she could see rather easily, that could guide her to my world.  ‹Can you see four stars that make a square?  There, can you?›

“I think I found it,” Matilda replied, doubt in her voice.

‹That is part of your constellation Pegasus.  Now, look almost straight west from the star in the left lower corner of the square.  Do you see it now?›

“Straight across …?” 

‹Yes,› I said patiently.  She was trying, I could see that, but humans, or any creature really, unstudied in stars could have problems.   Perhaps it was because she truly did wish to see that I thought of an idea.  ‹Do you trust me?›

“Of course,” she said without a pause, turning to look at me.  “Why?”

‹Merely relax and look up at the sky.›  Once Matilda had done so, I continued speaking, ‹Do not become agitated or frightened.›

When I thought she was ready, I slowly touched her mind and let the images flow.  This wasn’t merely depositing information but influencing a mind, and I had to be careful.  But she must have seen, because she gasped as I played with the stars, imagined the figures and colors and lines that would help until there, in the stars, was a winged horse.  ‹This is Pegasus.›

And from this form, I guided another set of stars to appear brighter, one of them brightest of all.  Home.  My home.

“There?” she breathed.

‹Yes.  That is my home.  This is part of your constellation Cetus, the Whale.›  I made the impression of the whale in the stars, a humpback.  Perhaps the humans thought it was another type, but I had only truly dealt with those sorts of whales.  ‹You cannot truly see unaided, but _Renti_ is the larger and _Ashwallow_ , the smaller.  _Jawnei_ we will not see, of course.  It is too dim.  On my world, it shines almost as brightly as your Venus.›

As I described each of the stars, I tried to … to show her each of the suns, but it was probably poorly done.  I was not good at this. 

“What does Earth call those stars?” Matilda whispered.

‹Gamma Ceti, generally.  I do not believe the suns themselves are individually labeled with true names.›  A pity, really, but, then again, I doubt we have any true name for Earth’s sun.  (I am not studied in astronomy, so I cannot be one-hundred-percent positive.)

I kept up the images only a few moments longer before I withdrew from her mind.  Matilda remained looking up at the sky before she thanked me.  “What did you do?”

‹It was merely a method we use with little ones … with Andalite young,› I corrected, slightly embarrassed.  Such a childish method, and I was not even a parent.  Another Andalite in my situation would not have done it.  ‹Mostly for story telling when they are younger, and once they are older, it aids in teaching.  We call it _Gellnap_ , which has no actual translation to English.  You might call it mind painting, I suppose.›

“It was very interesting.  I liked it.”

I smiled.  ‹I am not very apt at it, as you experienced, capable of only simple, inactive figures and the like.  It is a skill that has to be honed.  When I was very young, we visited friend of my mother.  She was very skilled.  Even fully-grown adults would take part.›  I remembered that.  Gracetop had truly been talented.  When Mother told me we were to visit her, I had been so terribly excited.  True, it did not take much to excite me when I was young, and I had been very young.  Mother had made me promise not to beg for a story, as we were guests and it would have been rude, but I think it was one of the first things I said to her.  She had laughed at me and promised me as many as I wished before Mother scolded me into apologizing for my impertinence. But I did get a story.  ‹I wish I could remember what she told.  I fell asleep midway through, which is what any _Gellnap_ would do to little ones.›

“So it’s like a bedtime story?” 

Surprised, I blinked and tilted my eyes at her.  ‹I suppose at that age, it would be,› I said slowly. It was a calming experience, releasing endorphins and other transmitters of relaxation.  A young mind would – and in my case, had – easily succumb to sleep, especially from such a skilled sender. ‹But that is not its true purpose.›

“Of course not.  Is that how you would have told the stories to Ax, then, when he was sick?”

‹Yes.›  I was embarrassed that she knew I had done that to Aximili.  Not that I was ashamed that I had;  Aximili is my brother and needed my care.  But I was a Prince, a warrior, and I had been telling fairy tales to someone under my command.  Not that my brother was someone would merely listened to stories.  ‹Of course, Aximili is old enough to influence his mind back.  Since he was ill, it was forgivable, but one would never do that during a true _Gallnap_.  It is very disrespectful.›

Matilda was surprised.  “You mean it’s two-way?”

‹That is why you had to not resist.  Of course, nothing would have happened if an Andalite fought or altered my images, thankfully for Aximili’s case, but human minds are unused to such handlings.  You might have injured yourself.›  Possibly.  I wasn’t sure how much a human brain could safely deal with.

She must have been surprised as well, for she was silent.  I continued.

‹In fact, it isn’t so unusual for little ones to alter the stories they are told.  Mother used to tell me all the times Aximili did it to Father, which always confused him.  He never was very attentive to his _Gallnap_ and would get lost because of all of Aximili’s altering.›  All this talk of my brother made me remember him, I felt a bit of my levity leave as worry intruded again.  Was he scared, in danger, worried?  The communications just recently, Mertil reported, said everything was fine, but everything could change so fast. 

“I never knew Ax was so much trouble,” she said with a slight laugh.

I smiled.  ‹Aximili no doubt got confused to which story he was supposed to be being told and was probably surged the bits he remembered or liked onto Father.  If Mother told a _Gallnap_ , he would never have gotten away with it.  She is far better than Father ever was.›

“And did you do that to your parents?”

‹I cannot remember, though probably not, or at least not as often.  Mother would have said something about it in the communications as she regaled Aximili’s exploits, I’m sure.  All I remember her saying is Aximili did not like any of the stories I had, which had been the ones she had favored and had been rather good at.›

“Which ones were those?”

‹Aximili liked the ….›  I stopped.  While I could have just said _Zequa_ tales, Matilda wouldn’t have understood the term.  ‹I suppose the nearest translation would be World ones, the ones that probably had some historical basis.  You would think them similar to ones like Hercules, Achilles, or David and Goliath.  He also liked the Ellimist stories as a child.›

She barely stopped her laugh.  “Did you?”

I also had to smile, but it wasn’t free.  It was hard to find amusement now in the Ellimist tales when you’ve personally dealt with one.  ‹I liked them well enough, but the Ellimist tales were either moralistic or funny little stories about Andalites whose blades got stuck in trees and hoobers would nest in their ears and tangle in their stalks.›

Matilda laughed.  “And, having met an Ellimist, do you think that actually happened?”

‹Intellectually, no, but you never know with Ellimists.  In any case, I preferred the … Celestial and Nature tales.  Those you might compare to your creation and other general myths.›

“So, Ax liked stories about Andalites, and you liked stories about suns and trees?” she teased.

I raised my chin and looked down on her, spoke loftily, ‹In the broadest sense, I suppose that would be correct.›

“And have you ever written these stories down for me?  You promised you would.”

‹Of course.›

She blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Had she thought I wouldn’t?  I did promise.  ‹Yes.  It only took a few weeks, though no doubt I blotched up a few bits of the _Zequa_ ones.  Aximili would be able to tell.  And of course they aren’t the standardized versions, but the ones from my home region.›

 “You had them done all this time and never gave them to me,” she accused, hands on her hips and trying not to smile.

‹There is this pesky war that keeps distracting me,› I countered, ‹as well as the fact that it is over 500 pages long.  Single-spaced, one-inch margins, and size ten font.  I could not bring myself to kill a tree for your pleasure.›

“Very well, I forgive you.  I know how important trees are to you Andalites.”

We shared a smile before looking back up at the sky.  Perhaps she was looking at my world again.  The thought gave me pleasure.

“Elfangor?” she asked once several minutes had passed.

‹Yes?› I said, turning my head to her.

“Do you think they’re all right?”  She was looking in the sky, as if the ships were right there.  “Ax, Rachel, Cassie, Tom, Jake?  Marco and Eva?  Tobias?”  Her voice was quiet at the end.

Part of my mood fell at the reminder.  I had (almost, almost, _almost_ ) forgotten why I was here.  ‹Yes.›

“God, I wish I could do that.  Just say it like that and make it sound like a believe it without any doubt.”

‹I do not doubt it.›

She smiled.  “And you’re still doing it.  You’re so totally freaking out with worry and yet you just … say you believe it and everyone just believes you.  I’m believing you and I don’t even believe you!  You bastard.”

‹I’m sorry.›

“No, don’t apologize, not for that.  God, please, not for that.”  She leaned and hugged me tightly, burying her face in my shoulder.  “What are the odds of this plan actually working?”

‹Fair, provided everything goes according to plan.›

“And if it doesn’t?”

I looked away for a moment and said in a distant voice, ‹It does not pay to think that way.›  Why could I not take my own advice?

“How can it not?” she demanded.  “We may die.  Tobias, Cassie, Jake, Rachel, Marco, Ax.  Eva.  Those other brats.  Tom.  Me, you.  Doesn’t that frighten you?  They could ….” She didn’t finish, there was no need to.

I gave a laugh devoid of any true humor.  ‹I am afraid to say living may frighten me more.  Then there will be another battle.  And another.  And another after that.  And I know battles.  At least death holds a promise of the unknown.›

Matilda looked at me.  “Do Andalites believe in an afterlife?”

‹We have our rituals for death, as you humans do,› I said, not answering her question.  I didn’t want to think about the answer and how it compared to my own beliefs of what awaited me.

“Well, whatever you say, I will still be worried.”

‹I suppose someone must.  Not the warrior, though.›

“Why not?  They’re the ones fighting.”

‹Because it is “theirs not to make reply; theirs not to reason why; theirs but to do and die,”› I quoted, remembering the old human poem.  It seemed so very appropriate for what we were doing, what we were asking our warriors and allies to do.

She made a face.  “I don’t like that Andalite saying.”

I almost laughed at her.  ‹It is not Andalite.  It is from a human poem.›

After a moment of disbelief, she smiled.  “I still don’t like it.  What poem?”

‹It is called _The Charge of the Light Brigade_ , by Tennyson.›  It was based on a real battle, I knew that, but I couldn’t remember which one.  I remembered learning about it in my college English class and it had resonated in me.  The professor had been a great orator, starting slow and the speeding, building to the climax with a deep voice.  A terrible climax.  ‹I do hope, though, we fare better than them.›

“What happened?”

‹They were all killed.  They charged straight into a line of cannons due to some blunder of their commander.›  A blunder.  ‹It was commented, _C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre.  C'est de la folie_.›

“What does that mean?” she asked tentatively.

‹It is magnificent, but it is not war.  It is madness.›

She winced, and she must have remembered some of the comments about this plan.  “Ouch.  I hope we fare better, if only for proof of your competency.”

‹Hardly proof.  I am leading a majority of humans.  Any blunders shall be blamed upon you and the children.›  Perhaps, but probably not.  Princes are responsible for their mistakes.

“And any success?”

‹Proof that I can lead anything efficiently, I suppose.  Or dumb luck.  Most of my life has worked on the latter, so it would be no surprise. As the saying goes, a Prince’s job is to be lucky.›

“I think that’s true for anyone,” she said.  “But suppose at the end of all this, they name a holiday after you?”

‹It’d be a working holiday,› I dismissed.

She laughed.  “No, it’ll be a government holiday, where everything closes down and no one really knows why, like Labor Day.”

‹Humans never know why they do anything.›

“Then what is the reason for Labor Day, oh wise Andalite?”

‹You cannot expect me to know _everything_ about your backward little culture,› I sniffed. 

“And that’s just Andalite-ese for you don’t know.”

For a moment, I tried to bluff, but then I realized the futility and lowered my ears and stalks in jest, playfully playing the pleading child.  ‹Perhaps.  Will you be telling the others?›

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she promised, looking amused at me.

I straightened, left the silly pose.  ‹I thank you for guarding my deficiencies.›

“I don’t think you’re deficient in much, Elfangor.”

I tossed aside her claim.  ‹You merely believe that because you are deficient in knowing my deficiencies, which are no way deficient in numbers.›

Her eyes rolled.  “Not up to your usual standards.”

‹See?  I am deficient,› I smirked.

“All right, knock it off.”

‹As you wish.›

Silence fell between us again and I looked around at the sky.  For ship trails, for omens, for signs, for answers, for peace. 

“What are you looking at?” she asked, curious.

‹Hmm?  Oh, nothing in particular.›

“Why don’t you look to your home?” 

I was surprised at the question, to find she paid attention to notice that, and struggled to find an answer.  ‹Looking towards my homeworld … while it does provide a sense of connection, I find it only accents the distance between.  Sometimes the feeling is not so over-whelming, of course, and I doubt it would be tonight.  Now, I am only looking to provide answers.›

“Answers?  To what?”

I smiled. Humans could be so quaint. ‹Must there always be questions for you curious humans?  Cannot answers simply exist to be found?›  I waved an arm to the sky and looked up.  ‹My people, long ago, thought the stars were the answers, things we could not reach just yet.  Fire in the sky that lit the way, made everything visible.  We learned fire on the ground, on our world, and we learned answers in the same place.  Now we must look to the sky for our answers. Comets, shooting stars, were truths that would collide and bring disasters.›  I turned my main eyes back to her and gave a little smile.  ‹There are many answers still left to find.›

“That’s beautiful,” she breathed.

I gave a small laugh.  ‹It is nothing but what every little one hears on my world when they are young.  Foolish and nonsensical, yes, but it gives me peace to think that there _are_ answers.  Somewhere.›

“What did you think happened when a star died?”

‹Back then, Andalites probably believed that particular truth no longer applied.  We understood that things change.  Things cycle.  When the stars were brighter, the truth was obviously more important at that time.›  I gave a smile.  ‹It probably caused a bit of a stir when we Andalites discovered what stars really were.›

She nodded.  “It’s ironic, that you’d find the truth about something that was suppose to symbolize the truth and found out what you thought was a lie.”

‹Yes.  I suppose so.   Ironic.›  Strange that she would say something so … poignant and philosophical.

“So have you found any answers?”

‹That humans are annoyingly curious, but I was already aware of that one.  I merely obtained more evidence.›

 “Tell me when you find the one that says what’s going to happen to us.”

‹I believe,› I sighed, looking back up, ‹I have been searching for that one for years.  It is particularly elusive.›

“Yeah.  Isn’t it always?”

‹Perhaps you could give me an answer for something?›

She squinted at me.  “Me give you an answer when the stars can’t?  There’s a tall order.  But shoot.”

‹It is something Marco said before he left.  What does _Animorphs 3:16_ mean?  I know it is some silly human joke, but …. See, you know what it means, even Aximili and Mertil knew what it meant.  And by now Gafinilan knows and I’m the only Andalite on this planet who has no idea.›

Her giggles stopped.  “It’s a wrestling joke.”

‹That explains nothing.›

“Austin 3:16, from ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin.  It’s a play on John 3:16, from the Bible.  It sort of sums up a lot in the Bible. _For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life_.”

I gave her a look.  ‹Somehow, I don’t think that was Marco’s intent, or this Stone Cold’s.›

“No.  I can’t remember how it got started, but Austin 3:16 goes, _I just whooped your ass_.  I think the Animorph version is along the same lines.”

Typical Marco, full of pop-culture bravado.  I shook my stalks and said, ‹Children.›

“It was funny.”

‹I’ll amend my statement.  Humans.›

“Shut up, you got your answer, now you don’t have to find that star.”

Again we were quiet, but this time, when it was broken, it wasn’t by her.  Staring at the stars, with her leaning heavily against me, the realization hit and I couldn’t help but remember tomorrow we were to go into battle.  She had asked how likely we were to survive.  And I realized, after today, there would be no more moments left, speaking and talking or just sitting and listening. All of this rushed in my head.  I didn’t want that.  And so I asked, quickly and without thinking, because if I had thought I would have lost my courage, or would it be have gained my senses.  ‹Would you like to run with me?›

She was surprised, obviously.  “Run with you?”

‹Yes.›  I paused, tried to regain myself.  I should just retract it, I thought, but then, no.  Why?   ‹I thought … that is, it is a nice night and it is just … it is a nice night to run,› I finished lamely, avoiding her gaze.

 “I’d like that, Elfangor.  What should I morph?”

‹Morph?›  For a moment, I looked confused, but then I realized of course that is what she would think I meant.  Humans were too frail to match an Andalite’s speed, and too slow in any case.  ‹Oh, yes.  I hadn’t … you may morph what you wish, of course.  But you don’t have to.›

Matilda gave me a look.  “I don’t have any shoes and I couldn’t keep up with you in any case.”

‹No.  Of course.  What I meant was …›  Now I felt embarrassed, because this was awkward.  ‹If you wish, that is, you may ride me.  On my back.›

“Oh.”  She was quiet, shocked, and I wondered if I had offended her in some unintended way, felt nervous.  “Well, I suppose … if you don’t mind.”

‹I would not have suggested if I minded.›

“Can your back even hold me?” she teased, probably to lighten the atmosphere.

‹Andalites are not such fragile creatures and you are not overly large.  If I could manage when I was an _aristh_ , I am sure I am still able.  Besides, I carried Marco.›

For a moment, she was confused, and I almost cursed myself for being so free with my thoughts.  But, with a strange smile, she nodded.  “If you’re sure, but I don’t want to hear any complaining about back pains tomorrow from you if I ride you tonight.”

‹My thoughts shan’t escape.› _Anymore than they already have_ , I said.  I turned and, remembering Marco, bent slightly at my knees.  ‹Hop on to the Andalite Express.›

She gave a laugh, though it twanged with a bit of fear, before awkwardly getting on my back.   She was careful where she put her hands and tried not to yank, and I was rather amused.  Finally, she managed to sit poised and I turned my stalk eyes on her.  There was a bit a fear on her, but some awe.

‹Are you all right?› I must have startled her, because her hands tightened

“I’m fine.  Just been a while since I’ve ridden anything.”

I smiled.  ‹Do not worry.  I will not let you fall.  You have your own guard, if you must.›  I bent my tail to show her what I meant.

She shook her head.  “I think I’ll be fine without it.” 

‹Very well.  Hold tight.›  My first few steps were slow and careful, so she could get used to the feeling.  Once her grips lessened, I sped up, always mindful that she was comfortable, until finally I was running full out through the woods.  Her arms had wrapped around my torso and I kept a hand over hers so she would feel safer, that I would not let her fall. 

At first, she seemed unsure, content to bury her face in my back, but slowly she started to look around, and when I ran next to a deer, she had laughed, light and happy, and I joined in.  The deer soon left us. 

I hadn’t been thinking when I jumped over the ravine, didn’t realize my mistake until she screamed as we went over.  “What are you doing!” she demanded.

‹Running!› I laughed, and I perhaps altered my path so there were more rocks and logs to maneuver over.  Every time she gave a breathless scream and clung tighter.

“You’re going to get me killed!” she said, slapping my shoulder.

‹Only possibly!› I laughed again, and she joined in, though it turned into a bit of a screech when I reared back.  I stopped running and looked at her, and was very amused to see her eyes screwed shut tightly.  ‹You can let go and open your eyes now.›

“Pah!  You’re an ass,” she said, pushing my back and looking around.  “Where are we?”

‹Approximately twenty miles from the others,› I said, starting to walk.  Perhaps I should have given her some warming, because she instinctively grabbed hold of me to fix herself.

“Not twenty of ‘my’ miles?” she said sarcastically.  It was Aximili’s little joke with the other humans, something he did to bond.  Or possibily annoy.

‹If you wish.› 

“How’s the grass?” 

‹Bland, as is much of your Earth grass.›

“Sorry to hear that.  What does it taste like, to you?”

It was a difficult question.  ‹Andalite hooves do not process taste as the human tongue does.  However, different grasses absorb different essences of their surroundings, like wine, I suppose.  The taste … it is difficult to explain.  You understand, it is difficult to tell another of something they cannot experience.›

She nodded. “It’s all right.  It’s nice here.”

‹I used to come here often, when I wished a good run and large meal.  Are you thirsty?  There is a stream nearby.›

“No thanks.  I’ll probably get beaver fever.  Do Andalites have to worry about that?”

I was amused at her question, touched by her concern.  ‹ _Giardia lamblia_ has yet to bother Aximili or me.  Then again, I am reasonably healthy and neither young nor old.  Aside from when we got ill, our bodies may be able to handle the Earth’s troublesome microorganisms.  If there was an older Andalite or a little one, no doubt I would offer to filter the water in the elder’s case and do so reguardless for the young one’s.›

“Filter?  You mean, like suck it up and … spit it out?”  She made a face of disgust.

‹The Andalite equivalent, of course.  And it is filtering, not spitting or expelling.  When we are young, there are some things we cannot digest or tolerate.  Our parents would soften up the grass, maybe deposit a few enzymes to aid.  Some parents would continue to so for years, to all of our mortification.›

“Yours?” she smirked.

I shook my head.  ‹My father quit as soon as I was old enough to tolerate, even if it was a bit young.  Males are not quite as apt at the practice as females, due to our biology, but we can do it.  Father most likely believed me healthy enough not to require it, not that he wished to avoid the duty, or maybe I told him he didn’t have to because I was old enough, as if I would have even known, but Father tended to amuse me on such claims.›

“He’s an old softie?”  She sounded like with that revelation, something became clear to her, but I could not imagine what.

The idea was amusing.  ‹He was not very strict, but Father never let me run over him.  He is one of those parents who give their young enough rope to either climb out of the holes they’ve dug or hang themselves.  But compared to Mother, some might consider him a softie.› 

“So your mom rules the roost?”

‹Perhaps, if only because Mother’s upbringing was merely more formal compared to Father’s and she would not tolerate things not being so.  But I cannot call her strict either.  It was just I had to make sure some things I did she did not learn of.›

“Such as?”

I shrugged.  ‹The usual childish mischief.  Tale-fighting with the other children, jumping over obsticals that she would have thought were too high, taking about the toys to get the fussion reactors so we could make our own hover vehicles.  Nothing dangerous, but she would have disapproved and worried.›

“Playing with fussion reactors, I wonder why?” Her voice was sarcastic.

‹Father would have helped,› I pointed out.  But who wanted their parents to help make a hover vehicle?  They always put limits on the speed and were concerns with things like _safety_ and _feasibility_. 

She shook her head.  “I’m sure he would have.  So your mom probably filtered your water until you left the scoop, huh?”

If someone had put the idea into her head, and if Father hadn’t teased her into stopping … ‹My mother ceased after a reasonable time› -- for a first-born child, as parents were always far more protective; for Aximili, I bet she probably stopped when Father did  – ‹though she would continue to do so if I was sick.  If _she_ had been here when Aximili and I had _Yamphut_ , it is what would have been done, instead of the blender, _despite_ how old I am.›

“Considering the way you were when you were sick, I’m not surprised.”

‹I was perfectly – ›

“Elfangor, you were death warmed over.”  Her voice was serious, quiet.  “We were all worried.”

‹Yes, I can recall _that_.  You told me I couldn’t run unless I took my brother with me.›

“That was when you were better.  Before that, before we got your gland out … the way Ax acted, we knew it wasn’t good.”

While I suspected Aximili had merely reacted as any would, especially someone so young, when concerned about a family member, I did not say that.  ‹Well, I survived.  That is all that matters.›

“Yeah.”  She shifted a little.  “So did your parents embarrass you in front of your friends?  It’s a parent’s sacred duty, you know.  One I have to work on.”

Laughing, I shook my head.  ‹No, my parents were not especially embarrassing.  No more so than other parents.  Of course, Aximili may have a different impression.›

“They hover over him?”

‹He finds it embarrassing that Father calls him, _Aximili-kala_.  It means ….› I stopped.  Perhaps Aximili would not like it shared.  ‹Well, it is merely a silly nickname.  Father might have said it once or twice in front of his friends.›  Or, knowing Father, whenever he wasn’t paying attention. For a very long time, perhaps even to this day, I remained his little –

“Did he call you anything?”

‹Nothing unusual.  When I was very young, he did call me their little _Veyoup_ , but that has cannot be helped.  I did destroy much of our landscaping and belongings.  One time I even caused the roof of the scoop to collapse.›

She didn’t bother to hide her smile. “What does it mean, what he called you?”

‹Oh, he is merely a character in a story, one of Father’s favorites.  _Veyoup_ was a clumsy Andalite that would destroy everything in his path by accident.  He was always a hero, but everyone chased him from their herds because of all the damage he did.›

“Was he sad that he had to leave?”

‹No, I do not believe so.  He wasn’t a very smart Andalite, either.  Probably another reason Father called me that.› 

“How could you cause the roof of your scoop to fall?” she asked. 

Ahh, that story.  While Aximili might have an embarrassing nickname, I had the embarrassing childhood tales.  ‹My tail got stuck.  I was chasing something, a hoober probably, in the rain and slipped into a beam.  When I couldn’t get my tail free, I panicked.  Neither of my parents were pleased that they had to fix it in the rain, which by then had become a bit torrential.›

“Did you get punished?”

‹I think they took pity on me, covered in mud, stalks bruised, knees scrapped, sopping wet, and my tail still stuck in the beam.  By then they were probably used to it as well.›  I gave a small laugh.

“Poor little you.  Poor your parents.  I thought Ax had been the troublemaker.”

I sniffed.  ‹I may have been a bit accidentally destructive and Aximili a bit over-eager, but neither of us caused our parents’ fur to tan or hooves dull any faster than what was normal.›

“Of course.  What else did you do that was _accidentally destructive_?”

‹It was only a short phase I went through,› I muttered.  Perhaps I should not have told her such things.  Humans only get more curious with information.

“Come on, tell me,” she pleaded, batting her eyes.

I rolled my eyestalks at her.  ‹Humans and their infernal curiosity.›   An eye looked back at her.  ‹Aside from toppling our scoop, when I was _very_ young, I decimated my parents’ _Geinash_ flowers by trying to help take care of them.  I crashed into their workstation and caused the delay for the plans, which led to the delay of parts being made.  One time I tripped a guest of Father’s down a hill.  And of course I tended to run into stationary objects and, if possible, knock things over.›

She laughed.  “You have four eyes and you still ran into things?”

‹Four eyes can be hard to work, I’ll have you know,› I said defensively.  ‹The stalks can misalign with the main and each other.  I am one of the few Andalites that is afflicted with the annoyance.›

Her eyes widened.  “Really?  I … I didn’t know that.”

I shrugged.  ‹It’s no bother, actually.  Now it hardly ever troubles me, except when ill.  Even slight illnesses can cause my eyes distress, usually my left stalk.  It is why I was probably more disoriented than Aximili when we were ill.  When I was younger, though, very young, if I got too excited or frustrated or, of course, ill, my eyes didn’t converge at all.  It took my parents quite a while to realize it.  They thought I was merely terribly clumsy; it wasn’t until my maternal grandmother finally admitted she had the affliction as well that they found out.  There is no cure and it is a rather embarrassing handicap, so no one actually admits to having it.›

“Does Ax have it as well?”

‹No.  I merely had the bad luck of recessive genetics.  Very few Andalites actually know of my affliction.  My parents, a few ship doctors, myself, and now you.›

“You mean Ax doesn’t even know?”

No, of course not.  I would not tell it to my brother.  ‹I do not share it freely.  As you know, handicaps are not looked upon kindly in Andalite society.  If too many knew, my abilities would have been called into question, when it really is not that terrible.›

She seemed to be thinking about something, and I wondered nervously if she was ashamed of such an affliction.  But no, I scolded myself, she wouldn’t look at such a thing like that.  “I have to get down.  I’m getting saddle-sore.”

‹Very well.›  I stopped walking and helped her down, angled my tail so it was another support.

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s better,” she said as she rubbed her bottom. 

For a moment, I was sorry for bringing her the pain.  I shouldn’t have ran so fast, shouldn’t have made the jumps – even though I am sure she did enjoy them, even if she screamed.  I almost apologized, but instead started to walk away.  Yet, when I moved, she walked to catch up and winced at the rocks.  I quickly stopped and waited for her, saying, ‹I sometimes marvel that, for such a crippled species, you humans have managed to become the dominant species of your planet.›

“We’re not crippled,” she countered even as she massaged a foot.

‹Forgiven me, I must have misspoken.›

“Right.  Can you sound anymore insincere?”

‹I suppose it would be difficult,› I admitted.

 “You’re incorrigible.”  She leaned up against me and wrapped an arm around me, resting it just on my lower back.  At first I was surprised and pulled away, but I quickly relaxed and pretended the contact did not matter to me.

The silence between us was companionable.  However, she had to break it.  “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

‹Everyone dies.›

“Tomorrow.”

I paused and made sure I wasn’t looking at her before I answered.  ‹Yes, we may all die tomorrow.  There is, in the least, a basis of a 12.5% chance of a death.›  One out of eight.

She looked relieved, probably because it was a small number.  That was the thing about math – one could make it so even dire things were okay.  “That doesn’t sound too bad, I suppose.  At least it’s not certain.”

I made a strange smile.  ‹Well, the calculation is in the least.  Certainty is always greater, but, in this case, it is less probable.›

“You are such an optimist.”

‹All Andalites are.  It is in our nature.›

She rolled her eyes.  “Of course it is.”

‹It is,› I repeated, defensive.  ‹Just because we have learned cynicism does not mean we are not naturally optimist.  Andalites would have killed themselves centuries ago if we lived solely in a rose-colored world.›

“You’ve certainly learned it.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you think something good was going to come out of anything.”

‹I am not the best for Andalite study.›

“You’re the exception that proves the rule.”

‹You humans do not even know what that saying means.  You always misconstrue it.›  At her confusion, I clarified, ‹You seem to think it means that even with the inconsistency, the rule still applies, which is logically faulty.  Of course, you are humans, so it is almost forgivable.  Almost.›

She shook her head and laughed, clearly willing to humor me.  “If you say so.”

‹I do.›

“I guess you are an optimist.”  She smirked.  “So we all have a 12.5% chance of death tomorrow?”

I wouldn’t lie.  ‹It is a ratio for us as a group, not an individual percentage that applies to all.  We will all be in different dangers.  And I’m rounding.›

“Of course. Even still, on a night before battle, when we could possibly die, and look at what we all are doing.  I think Paul was reading history at the camp.  Battle history, and you really didn’t have to give that book to Toby.”

‹Toby Hamee appreciated it.  Is it wrong for Paul to read that book?›

She waved her free hand, trying to demonstrate.  “You always hear people say that if they found they only had a day to live, they’d go sky-diving or do a bunch of other things they’d never done.  I think we prove that really doesn’t happen.  You really just sit back and relax and try not to think that you’re going to die.”

‹What would you wish to do?› I asked, curious.

“What would you?” she countered.

‹Am I not doing it?  I would not be here if I didn’t wish to be.›

“Even with the company?” she asked slyly.

‹Merely because I left alone does not mean I am disinclined to companionship.  I had merely wished to be away.  The walls, as it were, seemed to have been closing in a bit too closely.›

She appeared to think about that and gave a small nod.  “I get that.  It’s all just … over-whelming.  And the kids, it’s just ….”  Whatever it just was, she couldn’t think of an appropriate word, but I didn’t really need one.

I shrugged.  It was more the adults that gave me problems, if we limited my issues to just the humans.  ‹I preferred the children more when their families did not know who I really was.›

 “Naomi still giving you problems?”

I gave a little laugh.  Oh, how that human had screeched when her nephews and daughter went away, called me the most impolite names.  ‹Ms. Naomi,› I accented, because it was better to show some deference even when she wasn’t here, ‹is merely the most confrontational and is a pain in the hoof.  But I respect her, and I even like her, as humans go.›  To stand up to me, to the Hork-Bajir, she was a brave human and I saw where Rachel got it.  But she was also stupid, especially when she had been constantly trying to run away.  Something she also passed on to her eldest daughter.

“You do?”

‹She is brave and she speaks her mind, and she is clever, for a human.›

“Really?”

 ‹Yes.  It is refreshing that she doesn’t act afraid around Aximili or me, that she even attempts to intimidate me.  At least Naomi does not try to be subtle and simply glare at me.›  Like some parents. 

“Like Steve and Jean?”

Yes, _currently_ like them.  They had gained their son, and now blamed me for losing him.  ‹Like all of them, except, of course, Eva and yourself.  While I do not care for the children’s parents’ opinion of me, I do not need them glaring and waiting for one misstep, especially not now, not with this battle over our heads.›  It was like they want me to fail, forgetting that if I failed, so did their children.  And failure usually equaled death.

“They’re just worried, Elfangor.  It’s not you.”

 ‹It might be.  I know I can have a difficult personality.  And I realize I haven’t exactly endeared myself to them with my comments and actions.›  I gave a small chuckle, remembering when I called them poor parents because they didn’t protect their children properly.

“It was harsh of you,” she said, understanding what I was alluding to.

‹But it got them to shut up.  And, aside from Naomi, they do not speak to me anymore than necessary.  So, I believe I chose my words wisely.  Though I will admit I did like that small time when they looked at me kindly, after Tom was freed.›  Like I wasn’t a monster.

“Did you actually mean it?”

I sighed.  ‹Not to the extent to which it sounded.  I understand their ignorance, their anger at me, their worry and fear.  But I cannot allow them to trivialize what their children have accomplished.  They are my warriors, my _arisths_ , and I am proud of them.  I cannot respect or be proud of their parents.  Understand, yes, but nothing more.  If it had not been their children, if I had led Andalite youths instead, they would not care, but they would value and respect their trials.  How can I respect them if they _cannot_ value what their children have done, if they _cannot_ be proud of them as I am?›

“They’re just worried about them. They do respect and are proud of the kids,” she said quietly, not exactly defending, but she was.  “But they’re parents.  We have to worry.  It’s our inalienable right, that and to smother and embarrass them.”

‹Andalite parents would not yell at their young for defending the planet,› I said defensively, almost angrily as I recalled those terrible words the humans said to their children. ‹We would be honored, even if we were worried and angry.›

“That’s Andalites,” she said.  “We’re humans.  Maybe it’s our nature, to protect our own first and damn the rest.  It’s not pretty, but it doesn’t make us wrong.”

‹It is the highest honor to protect your family and loved ones,› I said.  ‹To … to _scold_ them for doing that is disgraceful.›

She didn’t answer for a moment.  “You still didn’t have to call us all bad parents.”

‹I do apologize,› I said, meaning it.  ‹I was angry and they were annoying.  My temper got away from me.›  But I should not let that be my excuse. 

“I don’t think it’s me you have to apologize to,” she said carefully.

‹I will not be apologizing to them,› I snapped.  ‹Not until they are proud of what the children have done.›

“They _are_ proud, Elfangor.  They are.  Just … give them time.  Maybe by tomorrow, this time.”

‹Maybe it will too late by then,› I murmured.  ‹Why do they chose now to fight, to make their children worry?  What they, what _we_ need now is support.  Not judgments and accusations and guilt.›

She squeezed my arm but didn’t speak to defend her compatriots. 

I turned my head to look at her.  ‹Were you angry with me when you learned I had enlisted Tobias?›

“I’m not exactly a good example,” she said, trying to look away.  “I didn’t even raise Tobias, you know that.  Barely even know him as my son.  And, well, he did have a hand in my rescue.”

‹But were you angry?› I repeated.  Suddenly it mattered to me, to know how she felt about my actions in regards to our son.

“No.  Only that you used children.  And only a little.”

I could understand that anger.  While Andalites would accept our children fighting to protect us, there was something terrible in having to recruit them when there were adults who could do the job.  ‹I did not want to.  If they had not seen me crash, I wouldn’t have hunted them out.›

“Why did you?  I mean, you could have said no.  You had the Cube, but you didn’t have to use it.  Why them?”

‹Humans are persistent.›  I turned to look back at the sky, remembering.  ‹They saw me land, wish to help.  I allowed Jake because of his brother.  I … felt sorry for him.  I believed Aximili had been killed and did not wish him to lose his brother as well.  Rachel, because she was Tom’s cousin.  She has nearly the same familial right to try to save him as Jake.  Cassie wished to save the planet.  Marco did not, not until one day I was telling them about the Vissers.  The then-Visser One had been visiting.  I showed them the memories I had of her that I had read, and he recognized his mother.  He fairly demanded I give it to him so he could save her, when the other children left, of course.›

“And Tobias?”

‹The same as Cassie.  He wished to save the world, be a part of something.  And I was an alien.  He was curious.›  I stopped for a moment, feeling defensive as I spoke the next part.  ‹I didn’t just give them the ability to morph the day I crashed.  They came to me, all of them.  I didn’t force them and I was blunt, truthful.  This was War, not some fancy novel or TV show.  They could die.  Maybe they hadn’t understood as well as they should have or do now, but they accepted the responsibility.›

“I didn’t think you drafted them.  They defend you too much for that to be the case.”

‹They defend me too much as is,› I said bitterly

“They like you.  Anyone who knows you does.”

I gave a sly smile.  ‹Even Visser One?›

She poked me in the side.  “Cheeky bastard.  I suppose that’s why we all love you.”

‹You never did say what you would wish to do,› I said, remembering how we got here.  I was curious.  When she didn’t appear to remember, I elaborated.  ‹If it were your last night alive.›

“Maybe this is it.” 

I smiled at her.  ‹You are merely repeating my inclination.›

“Can’t it be the same?  A nice night, conversation with a good friend, nothing chasing and trying to kill me.  I can’t want that?”

When she phrased it like that, perhaps, but I would not let her off so easily.  ‹You made it sound as if humans should wish to do daring things, but they make do with mundane.  You do not wish to skydive or go scuba diving?›

She laughed.  “While I wouldn’t mind scuba diving off Australia, I think if I was going to die the next day, I’d try to do something that wouldn’t get me killed in the process.”

‹Understandable.›

There was a moment of quiet, and I thought the conversation was over.   But, looking down, she said in a soft voice, “I do wish to do something, but I don’t think it’d happen.”

I looked back at her, feeling myself desperately curious.  ‹What?›

She didn’t answer for a long time, so long I that I thought maybe she wouldn’t tell me.  But then she met my gaze and her voice, low, said, “I want you to kiss me.”

Surprise rocked me to my hooves and I pulled away.  I must have misheard.  ‹Pardon?›

“You heard me.  If I was going to die, I’d want you to kiss me.”

I blinked at her, surprised at such a request, until my own last request changed so swiftly and I had to pull away, get away.  She let me go and I refused to look at her.

“I told you it wouldn’t happen,” she whispered.

My thoughts were a mess and my hearts torn.  It was such a silly thing, but it made me flounder.  I was to die.  If I was going to die, I’d want to kiss her too.  And now my life – the illusions I had so carefully crafted, constructed, created … they were falling away, leaving me with the confusion I had faced before.  Suddenly she was no longer Matilda.  She was my Loren.  Again.  She was my wife.  I felt myself tremble at such a realization, felt the blood pounding in my ears.

But I couldn’t.  But it was just a kiss.  But I couldn’t let this distract me.  But I was to die tomorrow.  But I didn’t want this.  But I did.  But I did.  A simple kiss.

I turned an eye to her and saw she had turned away, was hugging herself and trying not to cry, I could hear that.  And my hearts broke.  I never wanted to cause her pain, I never did, but it seemed that’s all I ever did to her, even when I didn’t mean to, even if it was the last thing I ever intended or wanted.  I slowly approached.

It was just a kiss.  What harm could a kiss do?  I morphed.  And when I was human, close enough to her, I set my hands on her shoulders.  She froze, startled, and I gently turned her.  I felt guilty when I saw her eyes, sad and in pain, and I trailed my hands up her neck to her jaw, leaned closer, and whispered, “Ask and ye shall receive,” because I couldn’t deny her (myself) this.  And I kissed her, softly, gently.  It was a sort of bliss I had forgotten, and I moved back.

But then she grabbed me, stopped my movement, gasped, “A proper kiss.”  And she rushed forward, kissing me hard, demanding entrance into my mouth.  The sensations, I couldn’t think, and I let her, and at the first touch I whimpered.

Her hands were on me, one in my hair, the other over my chest.  It was too much, too much, and I had to breathe, to pull away and breathe, gasp for air.  But Loren didn’t stop, she kissed my neck and collar, pressed herself against me, touched me, nipped at my skin, stealing thoughts and protests and getting whimpers from me.  And she kissed me again, and I joined in.  Her hand was on my cheek and I felt myself get lost.

For a moment, we were in the past.  Her hands were roaming over me, my back, hips, sides, neck, hair, chest, stomach, and mine, hers.  I could press myself against her, feel her body through the silly leotard.  I sucked onto the junction of her neck and color, and she tilted her head back to let me, moaning, and I pushed the cloth away for more access, better access. 

Loren made a sound that was neither pleasurable nor encouraging, and I realized my actions had made the clothing choke her.  And then I realized what I was doing, what we were doing, and I jerked away.  No, I couldn’t do this, it wouldn’t be right, we had to stop, we had to –

She rushed to me, guided my hand under the leotard to help pull it down, kissed me again, and the thoughts and protests were lost at the feel of warm skin.  Because now, now there was more, and I pulled it off, kissed and licked what was freed, and then she was naked in front of me.  Her hands were on my hips, one slid between us, under my shorts, and then on me.  So surprised and overcome, I gasped and bit her shoulder, trying to control myself as she stroked me.  I was losing coherent thought, the pleasure, the warmth, Loren …

It was that memory that made me grab her wrist, make her stop, and Loren looked up at me with confusion.  It quickly turned to surprise when I lifted her into the air and brought her down to the grass before, covered her with my body.  Kissing and touching.

I kissed her skin everywhere, but I had a goal in mind if this was to be the last.  I was an Andalite in human morph, where taste mattered, and I reached her hips and thighs before advancing to the apex.  Loren gasped in surprise but quickly lost herself in this passion, this passion I was so very good at.  It had been a favorite one mine (and Loren’s, I am quite confident to claim) all those years ago.  I had not done it since then, because when she had been without sight, she liked to feel me, to know I was there. 

But of course I wasn’t thinking about then, but reacting to now.  She moaned and gasped, tangled her hands in my hair, screamed her pleasure several times before I pulled away, shed my shorts, desperate for my own.  I crawled over her, kissed her passionately, and was in her in a swift motion, and it startled Loren so that she bit my lip.

“Shh, shh, shh,” I murmured when she moaned, and we moved.  Her arms and legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer, and I could only look down at her and gasp with each thrust, clutch the dirt and grass for support and for grounding.   This was everything.  My wife, my Loren, beneath me, mine, mine.  Love, love, yes, yes.  Loren clutched me tightly, kissed me, and then I was lost in my own pleasure.

When it was over, I could only gasp, rest my forehead on her shoulder, try to get my bearings.  She kissed my neck, ran her hands over my back and made trails of heat.  I rolled to the side, still breathless, and Loren wrapped herself around me, and my arms went around her, and we laid under the night sky, sweaty and hearts pounding and unable to find enough air.

I could say I didn’t know how long we lay like that, but I did.  It was enough for my head to come back, my sense, and I couldn’t believe I had allowed myself to act in such a fashion.  I shouldn’t have.  Tomorrow, it would be all over.  What had I done?  After tomorrow, if I miraculously (unlikely) survived, there would be nothing.  We would separate, go our own ways.  We couldn’t be together. This … this had been a mistake, a stupid, foolish mistake that would only cause pain for both of us.  I pulled away, but Loren grabbed me.

“I must demorph,” I whispered, not meeting her gaze.  After a moment she let go and I crawled away, returned to my true form.  I gave her a look with my eyes before I had to look away, disgusted with myself for taking advantage of her.

But when I tried to stand up, Loren moved quickly, grabbed my wrist.  “No.  Stay.  Hold me, please,” she pleaded.

I shouldn’t.  It would only cause more heartache.  But I couldn’t, not with her asking so, not when I really wanted to.  ‹If you wish.›  I lied back down and Loren moved so she was in front, curled between my front legs and against my chest.  My arms were around her and she buried her face against me. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eyes. 

‹Of course,› I sighed, and I nuzzled my head against the top of her head very carefully, held her gently.  She fell asleep within minutes.  When she was asleep, I traced her face with my hand, brushed her cheek with a kiss, and nuzzled her hair again, content to breathe her scent in.  Relaxing, I allowed myself to sleep. 

 ****

That night I had dreams, dreams of a life I never lived, had never lived, would never lived.  As such, it was … sublime.  There was a perfection, a peace that was soothing.  Before I fully woke, I could remember the shadows of it, the spirit. 

At the center of it, against all expectations and common sense and past experience, I had been happy and content.  Inside this imaginary world, I was … was I Andalite or human?  Andalites, yes, I was Andalite.  I was bonded, with a wife, a very beautiful female.  Well, I thought she was, she had an essence of beauty to me.  Freshly bonded and joined in ceremony, we had physically and psychically followed, and her mind and scent mingled and imprinted on my dream self. 

Even though I had stared at her face and eyes the entire dream, upon waking, all I had was the vague impression of shadows.  But the peace remained and I stared at the rising sun, before turning to look at Loren sleeping against my side, curled to protect herself from the dew with my warmth. Sometime during the night, she had redressed herself, and the dream must have drawn me very deep since I hadn’t woken.

It was foolish to feel guilty over a dream, how I had dreamt myself bonded to an Andalite with no thought of her.  Even now, the emotion didn’t hit me.  She had been my wife in a past life, and she was still a love in my hearts.  I could love a dream along with reality or a past.  Perhaps in a way she was the same as my dream-Andalite, nothing I that I could touch, though at least for her, I had had her, for whatever unmeasured, erased time. 

She would sleep until the sun rose higher, and comforted by the security, I brushed back her hair and stroked her cheek, trailed my fingers over her lips.  So deep in sleep, there wasn’t even a twitch.  I smiled at the bits of blue fur that had mingled with her black and blond hair, and pulled out a few tufts before thinking she looked better with them tangled in.  When she opened her eyes, I bet the sunlight would make my fur and her irises match.

The sun kept rising, warming everything.  Because of the sun, a shadow fell over her face and I turned my gaze to the cause.  It was a butterfly, flapping carelessly in the air around us.  I turned and watched it with my main eyes, keeping only a stalk on the still sleeping human.  (How could they sleep without a single eye opened, so helpless?)

The butterfly was large and black, but the sunlight caught catches of blue or maybe yellow spots on the hindwings.  It flew over my head and danced around my blade, a hint of a landing before the wind carried it across the meadow grass. 

‹Making hurricanes, you terrible creature,› I murmured, ‹or are you making solar flares?  Twisting the Earth off its axis?  Perhaps you are even influencing our coming battle, to deflect a Dracon beam fire?›

The butterfly continued making its flight, altering the world and history one flap at a time.

Another shadow flew by and the butterfly was gone, a meal for the faster bird, and I blinked at the creature as it flew to a tree.  It was too far away, too small, to see the insect in its beak.

I wondered how the world had changed with one less butterfly in it.

During my contemplation, I saw Loren shift and wake next to me.  ‹Are you awake?› I asked, only to wake her up more.

“No.”  She pushed herself away and yawned, rubbing her eyes.

Laughing at her childish behavior, I stood, but it was with surprise that my legs buckled and I staggered sideways.  My muscles were strained sore and protested my movements.

“Are you all right?” Loren asked, concerned.

‹I am fine,› I said looking over myself, cataloguing where the pains originated from.  ‹My legs, they are merely sore.  Odd.›

She was concerned, but there was a quick flash of a smile and a flash of red color to her face, as her eyes looked to where I had rested.  “Why?”

‹I don’t know,› I said, stretching.  The stiffness was going away with the exercise, and I believed I knew the source of it.  ‹I suppose it must be because of you.›

“What?” she sputtered, face turning red.

Amused at her emotion, I answered, ‹What else could it be from?  I did nothing unusual last night expect allow you to ride my back.  While my back could tolerate the weight, my legs were obviously not accustomed to it.›

Loren smiled at me, lips quirked in a smirk.  “I told you I didn’t want you complaining about being in pain because I rode you.”

‹You said I may not complain of back pain, not leg pain,› I answered, reminding her of my promise.  ‹We should be getting back.  The others will worry.›

She sighed and stood carefully.  “Yeah, I guess.  You too sore to take me home?”

‹I think I’ll manage.›  I moved to her and repeated the motion I made last night so she could easily mount me.

Instead of doing so, Loren crossed her arms and stared at me.  “No jumping over the ravine this time.  Or anything else.”

I truly wanted to asked, _Or else what?_   ‹If you wish.›

Loren refused accept me at my word. “Are you just saying that, or do you mean it?”

‹I do not know why you care.  You did not dislike it as much as you think.  I saw your face.  Admit it, it was fun.›

“It was _terrifying_.  Promise me.”

‹Very well, if you wish.  I will not even make even the smallest of bunny hops.›

“Thank you.” She almost came onto my back, but something caught her eye.  I hoped it wasn’t another butterfly, but when I saw her go towards whatever object caught her attention, I think I would have rathered the butterfly.  It was my morphing shorts, and I avoided watching her when she picked them up.  My behavior last night was disgraceful, to act such a way when there was no future for it.  All it did was make pain and hurt, it wasn’t a way for a warrior, a Prince, to act.

I felt her approach and hoist herself up.

‹Ready?› I asked quietly.

“Yep.  Yee haw.” 

She was going to kick me, or she wanted to.  I had to nip that in the tail.  ‹Do not kick me, otherwise my promise is voided,› I warned, walking at moderate pace. 

I could sense her disappointment and annoyance at my words, but I ignored her to run.  The pain in my legs and side was still present, but the movement was clearing the sensation.  When we came to the ravine I had to leap yesterday, I felt Loren grip me tighter, as if I wouldn’t keep my promise.  However, I slowed and navigated down the side and back up, and it was after that she relaxed and started to trust me.

“Jeez, are you shedding?  Champ doesn’t leave this much fur behind.”  She started pulling off the blue fur.

‹Andalites do not shed.›

“Yeah, and humans don’t go bald.  I’m covered in enough of your fur to make a rug.”  She tried brushing it off.

‹Well, next time, do not use me as a pillow.  It is your own fault.›

Her blue eyes – and they matched my fur – glared but she focused on pulling everything off until it became clear it was too difficult.  I smiled to myself at her expression.

We were close to the camp and I sighed.  It was the end of this morning and the start of the end.  I could hear the voices of those already up, most likely demanding where I was.  They probably were proclaiming me a coward for not being present, other slanders to my character.

“You know, no one would think you a coward if you just didn’t walk into that.  In fact, it would be a testament to your intelligence,” Loren said, leaning her chin on my shoulder.

I wished it would be possible to just avoid it, the humans and the battle.  ‹Where do you wish to be dropped off?› I asked, assuming she wouldn’t want to be seen entering with me.

“By the water.  I have to get fur off me.  It’s itchy.”

‹Andalite fur is not itchy.›

“Not when it’s on Andalites, but when it’s on humans, it is!”

‹But everyone looks their best in Andalite fur,› I commented as I took the scenic tour to the bathing area.

“Charmer.”

At the water, she slid off.  ‹I will bring you a change of clothes and a towel before I face the others.›

“Thanks.  And here.”  She handed me my shorts, and I awkwardly took them. 

Looking at her in the full light, I felt my fur raise in a blush at what I noticed.  For a second, I thought to just leave, to avoid the conversation for both our benefits.  But no, that was the cad’s way to act.  I had to tell her, otherwise she wouldn’t know, and I couldn’t let her be made a mockery by the other humans.  ‹You may wish to morph.  In the light …. There is … that is … your neck ….›  I trailed off awkwardly.

She understood what I meant, her eyes going wide and slapping a hand over her throat when the red marks were.  Face turning red, she said, “Ah, thanks.”

I nodded and rushed away to give her the privacy she deserved.  There was a back area for the newly clean clothes, and I grabbed some that would fit her before morphing to human to replace my shorts.  If I had to morph human during the upcoming battle, I was not going to it naked.  Back to myself, I quietly took her the clothing and towels, spending a few moments to watch her bathe.

It wasn’t as creepy as that might sound, and I decided to leave the more preferable vision to face the truth and reality.  Squaring my tail and shoulders, I went towards the waiting warriors, ignoring all their questions and accusations.

And when Loren joined us, I looked at Toby Hamee at her people, our few remaining human warriors, at Mertil and Gafinilan, the sullen human audience.  They looked back at me.  ‹It’s time.›

“Feels like someone should start quoting the St. Crispan’s Dray speech, doesn’t it?” Michael tried saying with a quavering bit of bravery.  “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.”

“No,” Naomi said, looking at all of us with bitter eyes.  “Not Shakespeare.  Someone better.”

“Better than Shakespeare?” Travis joked.

Rachel’s mother glared.  “Much.  How is, ‘We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France. We shall fight on the seas and oceans. We shall fight, with growing confidence and strength in the air. We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets. We shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender.’”

‹Churchill,› I said, rather surprised at her word choice.  She had never approved of this battle, and to give such a speech, while not tact approval, have to give something.  Perhaps there was something of Rachel in her mother.

“Yes.  My daughter better come home.  And my nephews.”

I wouldn’t make the promise I couldn’t keep, and the other parents wanted the same words I wouldn’t make.

“Eva will take care of Tom and Rachel,” Peter said, before adding, “And Cassie will be fine.  Jake too.  They’ll all be fine.  They’ve lasted this long, they can’t go down now.”

“And notice _we’re_ crap,” Lewis muttered to his sister.

“ _Everyone_ will be fine,” Peter accented.

“Nice recovery.”

“We’re worried about you all,” Walter said, “we don’t mean—”

“Just save it,” Carlie sniped.  “We know we’re expendable to you, as long as your brats live.”

“You’re not!” Walter protested, but his wife and he might have been the only parent who would dare make the protest.  Steve and Jean were huddled, too weary for anything but the wait, to let their former sister-in-law speak and fight for their family.  Cassie’s mother looked to me for some help, but I had none to offer.  It was a tough draw.  The children were in finer danger because they were a more cohesive team and could instinctively know what to do with regards to each other.  The older teens were sent to the less dangerous but slightly more fatal mission of diversion because they had less experience, and the shock of their friend being the traitor had shaken their budding trust in each other.  (I would not say aloud that I could _trust_ my children with such delicate work.)

Defense came from Howard, who snorted and said, “It’s not worth worrying about any of these punks, they’ve got more than you all think.  They’re all raging against the dying of the light.”

“Dylan Thomas?” Michelle asked, surprised, and the roofer glared at her and the others who dared show surprise at his words.

“We have to meet Doubleday’s men,” Paul said.  “We have to go now, anyone who wants to come with.”

‹We’ll give you the cover we can,› Mertil said.  ‹Aximili should have masked our ship’s signature.›

‹But if you see the fireworks, plant a tree,› Gafinilan said.

“If we get out of this, I’ll plant a goddamn forest.”

“And we will tend to it,” Toby Hamee grinned.  “Let’s go, unless you have any words, Prince Elfangor.”

I shot her a look of annoyance.  I wasn’t going to give some grandiose speech before a battle, not like in a human novel.  There weren’t any grand speeches in my head, nothing worth saying that hadn’t been said already.  ‹There is only one thing to say, and I think it has been said.›  To my surprise, everyone was actually staring at me, expecting some great words.  Ready to disappoint, I smirked and winked.  ‹ _Animorphs 3:16_.›

There was laughter and Loren pinched my arm.  “I was seriously afraid you were going to say, don’t die,” she whispered.

‹Well, that goes without saying,› I said. 

 ****

In the Pool ship, the deck plates shook under me.  Aximili looked at me, blood from a minor cut.  ‹Was that Mertil and Gafinilan?›

‹Shocks like that, not from their damaged fighter.›

His eyes darted.  ‹Do you think Eva, Cassie, Tom, and Rachel lost the Blade ship?›

If they had, we were in very big trouble.  As much faith as I had in Rachel, Cassie, Eva, and, less, Tom, I knew they were still out-numbered, even with the Taxxon and Hork-Bajir troops they had as allies.  ‹We still must fight.›

‹I’m sorry, I should have taken care of their flight programs, their weapons –›

‹You could only do so much, Aximili.  Listen to me, get to the Bridge, get the message out.  That is your priority!  That is your only priority!›

‹Where are you going?› he asked.

‹There are still Yeerks around, Aximili, and they can’t get control of the Pool ship again.  The halls still need to be cleaned.  But I am going to get to the weapons power supply, to work them, or disengage them, or whatever we need to do,› I promised.  If worse came to worse, I would set everything to self-destruct.  Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to crash this ship and run away before the explosion.  But I wouldn’t say these thoughts to Aximili, didn’t want him to worry that his own brother would kill him, kill all of our allies that were on this ship.  (Their names and faces flashed before I could stop them.  Arbron, unless he was on the Blade ship. Toby Hamee and her warriors. Tobias, who had taken charge of the Hork-Bajir spies during this time, because they needed someone to report to when they were on the enemy’s ship.  Jake, who was a brother on each ship, to split the chances of at least one of them coming home, but I didn’t tell them that logic.  Marco, to give Peter the same chance.  Loren, who … who was herself.)  I didn’t want to, but if I had to, to save Earth …. ‹We have to burn these slugs,› I said, more to myself than him.

His eyes smiled, mistaking my words for some past ones.  ‹I’ll see you up on the Bridge.›

‹Count on it.  Tell me what you need from the weapons, I’ll get it to you.  Though, it worse comes to worse, just ram this ship down the Blade ship’s throat,› I joked before running, calling to the Hork-Bajir warriors, told them to follow me.  They did so without hesitation, even as their brethren turned to follow Aximili.

We had only made it a few turns before the ship shook again.  It broke through the bulkheads of some wall, and the ship’s internal safety parameters jumped forward and closed against the leak.  I could hear the sounds of force fields keeping space at bay.

“Where go, Prince Elfangor?” Jara Hamee asked at my side.

I needed to get to the weapons, in case I needed to do the unthinkable.  It was the only place I could, where orders couldn’t be diverted.  My mind flashed, trying to find another path.  It came to me as I looked up.  ‹We’re crawling,› I said as I morphed.

As I changed, one of the Hork-Bajir cut into the roof access.  It would be a tight fit, designed for Taxxons, but Hork-Bajir could fit.  Fully human, Jara Hamee gave me a boost and I crawled, ignoring the sharp and cold metal.  Behind me, the Hork-Bajir leapt up and we were on our way.

No time for Andalite claustrophobia, I pushed it down and led our merry band.  The ship shook again, and then again, but finally, after almost ten minutes of crawling, we had bypassed the fields, we could take to the floors again. I dropped into the room, some computer room, and I rushed to the computer to determine exactly _what_ was going on while the Hork-Bajir followed me into air.

My eyes were in shock at what I read.  It wasn’t the Blade ship attacking us, but … the Andalite Fleet.

Swearing at the ill-timing of it all, I tried to get a grasp on the battle.  Yeerk fighters were deployed, which explained the few numbers of Yeerks we had faced.  Those that were still on had been in areas where Aximili had cut communications, they didn’t know.  Like we hadn’t known.

Well, every plan at a flaw not accounted for.  That’s what makes them flaws.

Visser One must have noticed the Fleet, called the attack.  It was why the Pool ship _was_ in the air, not to get away from our attack, as I originally hypothesized.  He wasn’t going to be a sitting duck on Earth on the Pool Ship, he had to get it to move.  Unaware of what the Andalites were going to offer him, the Yeerk empire, he called the offensive.  What was the worry of human attacks, of the Andalite bandits, when the Andalite fleet was here, after all?

Aximili had to work fast, he had to tell the People.  Very well, we did not have control of the ships, but he had to make them know what the High Command was planning!  But he was clever, he knew that.  Trust Aximili, trust the humans.  Hope to Ellimists this worked.

“We move, Prince Elfangor?”

I still had to get to the weapons, just in case.  Had to stop the Yeerks from firing on the Fleet.  Even if I disagreed, I wasn’t going to let innocent Andalite fighters get killed.  I backed away.  “Yes, yes, we’re going, Talan.”

We were almost to the door when the explosion happened behind, above, around us.  I heard the Hork-Bajir cries even as I screamed myself, as the metal and fire fell, as it collapsed over us.  Fire and pain hit my side, and there was no way I could shield myself from the falling computers and electronics. 

Maybe I blacked out, maybe no time had passed at all.  Smoke burned my lungs and eyes, and moaning against the pain in my back and leg – leg that was crushed, useless – I tried to crawl, to escape.  I had to.  I had a job to do.  But my strength was escaping me, as if it was leaving with the blood. But I was barely injured, this was nothing. 

_Get up, Elfangor_ , I thought distantly.  They need you.  The children.  Loren.  Aximili.  At the memory of my brother, I thought, _He better have made it to the bridge. He is Aximili, of course he did.  And the children and Loren._

There was a niggling of an impatient order in my mind, to get up, to do something, to move, but it was far away, growing quieter.  My ears distantly heard sounds of the explosion, maybe movement of the Hork-Bajir, my own heartbeat, but my mind focused on the hazy images of the humans, my annoying children-warriors, laughing at some joke as they sat on my old couch, of throwing popcorn and Aximili, oddly Andalite, eating it, and Loren beaming in sunlight with Andalite blue in her hair, and my lips managed to smile. 

_I hope they …_

 ****

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yep, this is where I always planned to end it. It's an author's prerogative to be evil.
> 
> However … because even I like actual endings, I wrote an epilogue. Actually, three of them, because I couldn't decide how I wanted it to end. So, it's sort of a chose your own ending, where he stays dead, pulls an Aldrea and ends up too long unconscious, or stays Andalite. All the endings are happy-ish, at least.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Version #1: Sometimes the hero dies

Epilogue Version #1

 ****

Tobias

 ****

Everything was settled.  Earth was, shockingly, saved, we had won.  We had beaten the Yeerks _and_ the Andalites.

It wasn’t without some price.  Tom had been killed.  No, that cheapened it.  He sacrificed himself, Cassie had said when she arrived by shuttle, while Eva and Rachel kept control of our trump card.  On the Blade Ship, he distracted the Controllers while Eva worked to get control.  Jake had been devastated, but I think … I think he expected it.  He had to have, people don’t _recover_ like that.  He let Mom comfort him for a few seconds, let Marco pat his back, let Cassie hug and cry and apologize that she couldn’t save him, but then he pulled himself together before the Andalites started calling, started talking.

The rest of our friends … because Visser One noticed the Andalites arrive, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  Only a third of the Doubleday’s men died.  But we had lost many of our people, who Visser One had targeted with glee.  Mertil and Gafinilan told us the news before they had to disappear, before the Andalites sensors would pick them up.  Lindsay.  Lewis.  Carlie. Travis.  Michael.  Only Emily and Paul had managed to survive.  The two had had already lost their families to the Yeerks were the ones who survived: Emily, her father died in the Battle for the Valley and now her brother, here; and Paul, who had lost his mom and sister when we fought for the Valley.  It was an irony that wasn’t funny.

I lost my uncle.  He joined with Doubleday’s men and was killed, and I couldn’t even figure out how I felt about that.  My uncle, who never paid me any attention but gave me a place to live, took care of me after a fashion, was dead.  I should feel something.  Maybe I was in shock, it would hit me later.

Yes, that was it.

The Hork-Bajir and Taxxons had suffered heavily as well.  There wasn’t a full count yet, but I felt myself breaking down at their deaths more than my uncle’s.  Toby Hamee had trusted _me_ to take care of her people on the ship, it was a very high honor.  Elfangor said so, before I left, smiling with his quiet pride, and assured me without saying anything that I _could_ do it.

Yes, Elfangor, the one person missing of our troop, and we all felt his absence keenly.  Aximili had his eyes dropping, but he parroted back, ‹Elfangor said he would meet us on the bridge.›  He was trying to sound sure and brave, but I wasn’t his best friend for nothing.  It had terrified him that Elfangor hadn’t arrived when we first spoke to Captain Asculan, of the ship _Elfangor_ , for the cease-fire. 

We had to look for him.  Perhaps he was hurt somewhere, Mom fretted and offered as comfort.  But the freed War-Prince Alloran said we shouldn’t separate, not now, it wasn’t wise for just one of us to talk to the Andalites.  We needed our numbers to keep from being intimidated, the Andalites had to know they were dealing with children, young. 

Cassie, our wolf, volunteered.  And Cassie found him.

“He’s dead,” she screamed, running into the bridge, completely ignoring the Andalites that almost took her head off.  She was covered in blood, tears streaming down her face, and ran to Jake, hugging him as she sobbed.

Everyone stared at her, but I noticed Mom staggered and lean against the counter.  I couldn’t even move.

“He’s dead,” Cassie repeated.  “Just like Tom, like everyone.  Jake, I’m so sorry.”

‹… Cassie, you do not mean …› Aximili choked, dropped off.  I don’t think he believed it was possible, not until that very moment, and I moved closer to him, despite my own pain and sorrow.

‹What is going on?› Asculan demanded.  ‹Is this some …›

Cassie whirled.  “Shut up!  Just shut up!  He’s dead and it’s all your fault!”

Mom moved like lightning.  “Cassie, Cassie, shhh,” she whispered, hugging her, and suddenly I couldn’t do anything but be impressed with my mom.  She was crying as well, but she was … taking care of Cassie.  That was like her job, what … what Elfangor had her do when he couldn’t.  She moved Cassie away, hugging her tightly.

Asculan sneered. And I hated him at that moment.  ‹Perhaps War-Prince Elfangor’s great warriors – ›

Marco snapped.  “He’s the one who’s dead, you idiot!”

Perhaps spelling it out like that made the Andalites stand up and draw attention.  This was suddenly different, now.  One of their greatest warriors was dead … and Cassie had said it was their fault. 

“Where is he, Cassie?” Marco asked, gruff.

I could see Mom repeat the question and Cassie answer.  “He’s … he’s in a Tier Five, in one of the computer rooms with three Hork-Bajir.  There was an … an explosion, she thinks.  Everyone’s dead.”  Mom closed her eyes.  “He was human.  She dug him out and then … shh, it’s okay, Cassie.  You did your best.  You did your best.”

‹Why would he have gone to such a form?› an officer asked.

No one would know, of course.  Elfangor went between human and Andalite without hesitation, whichever one would help him in whatever he had to do. 

Asculan spoke slowly and with grave respect.  ‹While we are … saddened at this loss, we are here to take control of this ship.›

Now we all hated him.  Jake narrowed his eyes and showed exactly how much he was related to Rachel.  And Mom didn’t even yell at him afterwards.

 ****

I don’t really know what happened the next few days.  I was sort of in a daze and spent a lot of time with Mom.  She didn’t cry again – not in front of us, anyway.  Not even when the Andalites removed his body, wrapped in some ceremonial cloth.  He would be sent home, Aximili said, to their parents. 

Mom just took care over everything.  She helped Toby with the Hork-Bajir, made sure we all ate, acted as a sort of liaison between the Andalites and us with Ax.  (Perhaps she was trying to help Ax, thought he needed help, because, after all, Elfangor had been his brother.)  I knew she was just keeping busy, so she didn’t have to _think_ about anything.  We all _knew_ about them.

It was romantic, Cassie said.  Rachel had a different view, and it was something we never agreed on.  She used to ask me what kind of future they could have had.  She almost implied it was wrong for them to be in love, but she never said it directly.

Did she think I didn’t realize how _weird_ it was?  My mom was in love with an alien – and he with her, because it was so obvious!  Ax told me he knew because Elfangor always kept a stalk on her, and I noticed that.  And Ax said there was something about how he turned his blade and carried his tail, but I didn’t understand or even see that part.  I just trusted him.  He was my best friend, after all.  Another point in how weird my life was.

And he was my uncle.  At least, we were all pretty sure about that.  It was possible only Elfangor knew the truth, but he never said.  Maybe he didn’t know, not for sure.  Ax said Elfangor had had a son before the Ellimist brought him back.  (He doubted his brother even realized the truth he let slip that one time.)  I wondered if he meant me, or was it some other son that didn’t even exist anymore.  But we looked alike – I had the same color eyes and messy hair, even if it was blonder.  And some of the pictures the Chee had made, I thought he looked like I did in pictures when I was younger, when my Aunt and Uncle were married and seemed to care about me.  Or maybe it was that I looked like him? 

I knew Mom did a test, one of those DNA things, but I didn’t know how much we could believe that.  Sometimes, I thought if we confronted him, he’d just say he acquired my father or something like that.  I didn’t want to risk him totally denying it.

Ax said he’d never do that, not if it was true.  Andalites didn’t deny family.  But then it didn’t make much sense to me, if I was his son that he didn’t say anything.   Ax pointed out, though, that his brother had did a terrible thing, abandoning his family, even if there was no choice.  No doubt he felt ashamed and unworthy. 

But we all decided if Elfangor didn’t want to say it, we’d follow his lead.  And really, while it might have been nice if he admitted it, it really wasn’t necessary.  Not to me.  Elfangor … even if he wasn’t my father, he acted like it.  There was breakfast and packed lunches, always balanced but with some dessert Marco tried to get me to trade, and he cared (almost too much) about my grades.  He paid attention and talked with me, taught me to drive even if it was in the van and he spent the entire time gripping the door and hitting an imaginary brake, which he denied he was doing.  I didn’t even, really, mind when he “grounded” me when I did something stupid.  It was nice to have someone who cared, who took the time to care. 

He saved my mom, brought her back into my life.  And if he loved her too … that was okay.  I could handle being part of a really weird family.  It was better than no family.

We met the President and were surrounded by reporters.  Tom’s funeral was national coverage, and even my uncle got some honors.  There were interviews and everything.  Marco basked in the attention, and so did Rachel.  They became our spokespeople. 

Perhaps someone would think Eva should have been one.  She was, sort of, but she didn’t have the same use to the reporters.  Eva was the tragic story who had a happy ending.  Taken from her husband and son, forced to be a slave to a vile Visser, but then freed by us, returned to her happy family.  (Or debatable happy.  With Nora freed, Marco’s father didn’t know what to do.)

Maybe my mom should have, but really, she was shy.  I know, you’d never think it, but she didn’t like attention.  She didn’t like stares.  Just like me.  And we just wanted everything to go away.  And whenever she did get interviewed or was on TV, there was always someone who demanded how she could have let kids fight, as if Mom gave us permission.  What kind of mother was she?  And there were the stories about the “illicit alien romance.”  And those made all of us angry, me especially.  How could they do that to Mom?  She was a hero!  And Elfangor, who saved this planet?  But the reporters just wanted a story, even if they made up more than actually happened.

Too many pictures of them together, having fun or standing so close together because they had to fit into a picture.  And sometimes I think we should never have tried to bring them together, because there were always witnesses who claimed they saw something, a something Mom always laughed at and denied ever happening.  Except, of course, the Karaoke, if only because there was footage of that.  That she just laughed at and quickly left the room whenever there was a clip of Elfangor on-stage – close-up, thanks to the news station – with the other guys that had been tricked up there, all of them laughing and belting out, “I’ll be there for you!  These five words I swear to you!”

(Marco had gawked the first time he saw the whole thing and pointed. “You know, he actually looks like he’s having _fun_!  You know, except the bits where he looks like he’s going to kill you, Loren.”)

I hate myself for it, but sometimes I think my friends’ parents help in the slander.  Not Eva, Marco’s mom, but everyone else … they didn’t like Elfangor.  And maybe they didn’t like Mom either.  Whichever it was, I just remembered when my mom punched Jake’s dad for something he said – what, I never knew – but it ended quickly when Elfangor ran up and demanded to know what was going on. 

None of the parents said.  Perhaps they realized that Andalites were dangerous, that they were scare of him.  They probably were. 

In the end, we went back to the house.  It was a mess, the Yeerks had torn it apart, or some squatters.  Nearly all of the plants were dead.  But we cleaned it up, Erek brought Champ, and we just ignore the reporters that camped out.  Champ must have realized Elfangor was gone, because he used to stare, wait patiently at the door, for the first few weeks.  Elfangor trained him to expect treats and scraps.  It was sad it a way that was oh-so funny.

At night, I pretended I didn’t hear Mom crying or go into what was his room. 

The big surprise was a month later when someone came to the door and knocked.  And it wasn’t a reporter.

Mom answered.  “Mrs. ______?” he asked, politely.

“We don’t give interviews here,” she said curtly.

The man smiled and reached into his jacket, then handing her a card.  “Worse.  Lawyer.  Mr. DeGrout.”

“Oh.”  I saw her staring at it.  “How can I help you?”

“I managed Alan Samuel Fangor’s legal issues.  However … since he was actually War-Prince Elfangor, who has passed on, I’m here to … fulfill his last requests.”

Mom’s eyes were wide, and I didn’t even understand.  “You mean he wrote a will?” I blurted.

“He did.  At our firm.”

Mom laughed, and then covered her mouth.  “Oh, my God.  That is so like him.  Oh, excuse me.”  She left quickly, leaving Mr. DeGrout standing at the door. 

I watched her go, before awkwardly inviting him in.  “Mom’s just …”

“I understand.  It is difficult to lose a friend.”

“Yeah.”  I wasn’t sure if he did understand, or if he was just being polite.  Or maybe he believed too many of those tabloid stories.  “So he wrote a will?”

“Yes.  Almost two years ago.  Of course, we did not realize he was an Andalite.  It was a good thing.”  DeGrout was quiet for a second.  “I was a Controller, then.”

“Oh!  I’m … uh, sorry.”  I wondered if Elfangor knew that.  I didn’t think so, because he wouldn’t have risked putting us in danger like that.

“Don’t be.  I’m free now.  I do have information for your mother and you.  If I could just speak to you about them, I won’t trespass anymore on your time.”

“Sure.  Mom’s, umm, probably in kitchen.”  I led the way, and Mom was standing at the window, watering some plants that managed to come back.  Would it be stupid if I said even the plants missed him?

“Mrs. ____, if I could just have a moment of your time."

"Call me Loren, please,” Mom smiled.  She looked calm and poised, except for her eye make-up.  But neither of us would point that out.  “Have a seat.  Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of water, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

After he took a drink and Mom and I sat down, he spoke.  “You will understand that this is highly irregular.  We are required to fulfill the will to the letter, but there are some issues.”

“Of course there would be,” Mom sighed.

He withdrew some papers from his briefcase.  “You will get a copy of will, of course, but I will summarize it now.”

We both nodded.

“The first thing Mr. Fangor – I mean, War-Prince Elfangor, stipulated is that his brother, known as Alexander Philip Fangor, was to be taken care of.  The entirety of the estate, saving a few exceptions, was to pass to him unless he was unable or didn’t desire it.”

I imagined what Ax would have done with all of Elfangor’s money.  No Cinnabon would have been safe.

“We are assuming,” Mr. DeGrout continued with a sort of uncertain face, “that his brother is both unable and does not desire it.”

Mom looked at me and I shrugged.  “I don’t think so.  He doesn’t plan on living on Earth or anything.”  We would keep in touch, but he had to go back home.

“Then the entire estate was to pass to the person known as Matilda Lynn Rusch, which would be you, Loren.”

She gasped.  “What?”

“It must be a surprise, I understand, but the will is quite clear.  The house and properties, plus all the monies in all accounts and stocks, were to be passed to, if not his brother, then you.”

“Oh my god.  What am I supposed to do with all that money?”

“Whatever you want.” Neither of us thought he knew exactly _how_ much money Elfangor had stashed away for a rainy day. 

“Yes.”  Mom looked down at the table.  “What about those exceptions you mentioned?  They’re for the kids, huh?”

“I believe so.  There is an account for you, Tobias Alan _____.”  He slid some paperwork to me and my eyes boggled at the amount that had been placed in it.  I wouldn’t ever have to work, if I used this right, not with all those zeroes.  “It is likely there is more, now.  He placed the account on a roll-over.  For an alien, he had remarkable business sense.”

“He probably bought a book,” Mom chuckled.  “And followed it to the letter.  And I think I could _find_ that book.”

“He made everyone an … an inheritance like this?” I asked, unable to think of another word.

DeGrout smiled.  “To varying amounts.  I will admit, after your mother, you received the largest portion, but I cannot disclose by how much.”

“We understand,” Mom laughed.  “Did you tell the rest of the kids?”

“We determined it was best to approach you first, to determine if his brother would have been the primary beneficiary, as that decision dictates which way the will was to follow.  I have to visit your five friends.”

“Five?” I asked.  “There’s only Rachel, Jake, Cassie, and Marco.”  Even if he wanted to, by the time we knew the others, he wouldn’t have been able to make them the same thing.  At the reminder, I promised to find Paul and Emily, give them something.  And everyone else’s families. 

“He also left something to an Erek King.”

“What?” we both said, surprised. 

“You do not know --  “

“No, we know him.  I guess we just didn’t think … there wasn’t bad blood or anything, it’s just a surprise,” Mom said.  “Guess the dogs won’t run out of kibble for a while.”

The lawyer didn’t understand our joke.  “If you have any questions, feel free to stop by our office.   This is your copy of the will.”

“So no letters or anything, huh?” Mom asked.  “Just money.”

“If he wrote anything of a personal persuasion, one of us at the office would have had a chance to read it.”

Mom nodded.  “Controllers everywhere.  I just sort of … hoped.”

He gave a smile. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Thank you.  And have a nice day.  Hit a few reporters, if you can.”

“Mom.”

DeGrout smiled and left, and then we sort of just sat there, looking at the will and not saying anything.  Perhaps he had the same thought.  We’d rather have Elfangor back than his fortune. 

“You do know what this means?” Mom finally said.

“New car?”  Of course, there was still Elfangor’s old Mustang, but it didn’t seem right.

“College applications.”

I smiled.  “Shouldn’t I finish high school first?”

“These colleges, you need to get on a waiting list.”

It took Mom a long time to get off the whole college thing.  Perhaps it was something she had worried about, maybe all parents did.  I know I never really thought about it.  I mean, college, that was a few years away, if at all.  First, we had to defeat the Yeerks, and could I even get accepted anywhere? 

Deep down, though, I don’t think I ever worried about money.  Perhaps I even thought it’d be something Elfangor would step in on, for all of us.  He’d make fake scholarships for us to receive or something like that.  It just seemed like something he’d find important, something that we had to do.  School was important to him.  I may have had to deal with most of his homework policing, but it was pretty common for all of us to be around the table doing math or social studies or something.  Before Mom lived with him, if you phrased your question right, he’d even answer for you, or find the answer, especially for math questions.

Marco wasn’t the only one who was upset when Mom put a stop to that.

Still, sitting in my room before bed, I tried to work my head around all that money.  It was just … hard.  Before falling asleep, it came to me, though, that this was his last responsibility to us as a commanding Prince.  It was repeated so many times around us.

A Prince takes care of his warriors.

This was his way of making sure, after he was gone – one way or another – we would have been all right. 

 ****

 ****

25 years later

 ****

We all smiled at the video cameras, though none of us wanted to be here.  Behind us, there was an image of a statue of an Andalite in a park, and I grinned when I remembered what Mom had said when it first went up.  “He would hate that thing.  Say it looks nothing like him.  Except we all know he’d be jumping up and down on the inside, squealing like a girl.  But he’d still hate it.”

Yeah, that’d be Elfangor.

It was the anniversary of the Yeerks’ defeat.  Or at least the official date of it, when treaties were signed.  But everyone really took the unofficial date – the day everyone died, the day the Andalites came, the day Visser One was defeated – as the real day, and even if it was unofficial, everyone took off for it.  Eventually, it’d be made its own holiday, and maybe eventually no one would know what it was for, like Labor Day.

The comment made Mom laugh.

We weren’t often together, the remaining original Animorphs.  Marco had crashed and burned on the fame.  Still famous and rich, he was our spokesperson still, the one who took care of all public appearances when someone had to appear, but everything had spiraled for him when his parents separated permanently.  Eva and Peter were still friends, but that was all they could be. It could have been worse.  Marco was on his third wife, and Stella was actually a steadying influence on him.  I had no idea how they met or even fell in love, or if Marco even really loved her, but she kept him in line.  After the rough six years, we all breathed a sigh of relief, and none more than Jake.

Jake who was still his best friend.  Out of all of us, they were the only ones who met regularly, and Jake was always there to pick Marco up when life crashed down on the other guy, and I was there if Jake needed help.  Jake did something in the military, something I never asked about because if I did, Jake would have broken regulations and told me.  But Jake was a diplomat and a hero, who didn’t mess around.  And finally, finally, he was starting to get a normal life.  In Marco ran through wives, Jake was perpetually single, or at least unwed.  Cassie and he had dated, briefly, before deciding to see other people, and since then, Jake never found another girl that didn’t seem to want to mess around with a war hero.  And unlike Marco, he wasn’t going to settle for just some pretty face, but love.  I knew he wanted to have a family, have a son named Tom, and that he hoped if he did, his parents would stop blaming him for his brother’s death.  I wasn’t sure if Jake ever had blamed himself.  Tom and he had talked privately before that battle, and whatever Tom had said, Jake kept to himself.  It wasn’t even in his book.  Just the line, _We talked and we hugged_.  Everyone wanted to know what they talked about, but Jake refused to say.  It was between them, brothers.  His parents still wanted to know and it made the wedge go deeper.

Cassie had done what she always wanted to, working to save the forests and animals, and now, with her fame and Andalite backing, she could.  Divorced after a twelve year marriage, she had a daughter named Rachel Janice and was dating a man named Carlton.  Her parents had gone back to their lives as well with hardly any hiccup, and I think, maybe out of all of us, Cassie got to where she wanted to be, where she had always planned to be.

Well, that’d be a lie.  Ax was doing pretty good for himself as one of the few Andalite captains, scouting the universe for new life and new civilizations.  He couldn’t make it here – the lucky bastard, being off-planet had its uses – and we had laughed over his last message.  His mother was insisting he meet with a girl when he was at home. 

‹I do not know how my brother kept her at bay!  No wonder he could defeat the Yeerks, Mother trained him to defeat the impossible!› he chuckled after admitting shyly he was looking forward to meeting Dainla.  I pressed for details about his future date and mate (‹Do not rush ahead!  You are as bad as Mother!›) before he started telling about his mission.  Years ago there had been talk about possibly having contact with the Kelbirds, a neighboring alien race the Andalites had long ago made a treaty with, but Ax correctly doubted (with disappointment) that it probably wouldn’t happen.  The Andalites weren’t in a hurry to risk another war so soon, and the Kelbirds had been aggressive and terrifying in the few battles the two species had waged.  It had suggested maybe the humans could have tried, but agreed.  There was no reason to rock the boat, no reason to risk more deaths.

Because, at that time, Rachel had died.  Like Jake and Cassie, we had tried to make a go of it, but I couldn’t keep up with her, we both wanted different things.  As much as she said she wanted a quiet life, to leave the war behind, Rachel hadn’t. She couldn’t.  She had dated Marco for a while, and they had been the golden couple, and also the bad couple in response to Jake and Cassie’s good couple.  But eventually Marco let her go.  Her mother cursed Elfangor for giving her the small fortune – at first she had said it was the only good thing he ever did for her daughter – so Rachel could spend it to risk her life.  But, for all Rachel’s daring, she hadn’t died for some stupid deadly risk to get a rush.  Five years after the war ended, she went to the Mall, spent a few thousand dollars on shoes, got in her car, and got in an accident.  Her fault, for not yielding, speeding, or wearing a seatbelt.  She died instantly from the crash to her head, struck with as much force as her favorite bear morph could have given. 

Maybe that was when Marco started falling apart more.  It was certainly after that he married the dumbest blond on the face of the planet.

And as for me … there really wasn’t anything to say.  I went to college and got a degree in business – which really means nothing except you took a lot of classes that pretended to prepare you – and a minor in ornithology.  I lived on the other coast in a huge apartment with Rodney, my parrot.  (I gave Dude to Mertil, even over Gafinilan’s glares, and the cat became the most spoiled creature before he died at the probable age of fifteen.)  Mom freaked that I was going to kill myself driving back and forth, but we kept it touch.  When I moved back home, I started helping Mom with her little projects, helping her put her money to good causes, and later got dragged into working on building Yeerk-Human relationships with the _nothlits_.  That was more work than I ever expected, but after two decades, I am proud to say strides are being made in peaceful co-habitation.  Aside from Yeerks willingly sharing a human’s body – and there were _so many_ humans willing to be hosts, if they had just asked, could the war have been averted? – there were Yeerks used especially for convicts on parole (the convicts agreed to the supervision, as it gave them freer reign than with a traditional parole officer) and ones that specially assisted in medical procedures.  Walk down the street in a certain city, and 0.5% of the people you pass could be Symbiots (thank you, Ax, for that statistic).   Yes, there was a stigma attached to it, but I hoped in my lifetime it would be gone.

Who’d have thought _I_ would be doing all this, who would have thought I had would have gone with Toby Hamee back to her ancient homeworld, planted trees that her five clones would help grow?  That I would have been on the Andalite homeword _several_ times, once as a hero, and the other times as a guest?  That I’d be married with a beautiful wife and with two – possibly a third on the way – children, two beautiful little girls?

Yes, Earth had changed so much, and my life with it. 

I blinked and looked at the reporter, who had just asked me a question.  “Excuse me, what?”

“Still a dreamer,” Marco laughed.  “The _lovely_ Ms. Biana just asked if you were planning to write a book.  People want the whole set, man.  Animorphs on Shelf.”

“My life isn’t that important to kills trees on.  Or waste computer memory.”

“Typical!”

Biana smiled.  “The public would beg to disagree.  Would any of you think to say something about your experiences, after all these years.”

“After all these years, I think we’ve said everything,” Jake said.

“I just wish everyone else could still be here too.  Tom.  Rachel. Lewis and Michael and the others.  Elfangor.”  Cassie smiled faintly.

It appeared Biana liked his name getting brought up.  Go figure.  Andalites didn’t snoop like human reporters, at least not when there were protective parents and the Great Aximili still around to get angry about it.  And even with all the books, we all still kept some secrets about Elfangor.  There was the rumor of his and mom’s grand romance, but nothing ever confirmed, and we all laughed about his great temper, but as far as the public knew, aside from the few bits of footage and pictures, he was just this vaguely great super leader, this Andalite, that died in the last battle.

“You mean Prince Elfangor.  What do you remember most about him?”  Part of me sighed.  We had already spoken about Rachel earlier, when the interview first started.  It was the same every interview we were together.  Usually they ignored the aliens and focued on the humans, but Biana must have wanted fresh material.  It was hard to have fresh material after twenty-five years when you focused on the same dead people. 

“Children,” Marco said without a pause and we all laughed at the feasible imitation of Elfangor’s thought-speak.  “We were forever, children, to him.”

Jake chuckled.  “We were, though, you have to admit it.  I don’t know how he put up with us.”

“Chocolate.  Lots of chocolate,” Mom smiled.  “He had five secret stashes.  And cooking.  And a lot of venting to poor mothers.”

“I remember his house always smelled of food,” Cassie smiled, closing her eyes.  “He always made the best dinners, sometimes I was glad we had to stay over and talk about the Yeerks.”

“But you had to fight Ax for the dishes,” Marco nodded.  “He was a good cook, though.  I thought maybe it was an Andalite thing and Ax would be too, but he ate all the ingredients.”

“At least he never woke you up for school,” I shuddered.  “I don’t care what he made for breakfast, if I wasn’t downstairs in a reasonable amount of time, he was a monster.”

“What did he do?” Biana asked eagerly.

“Yelled.  From the bottom of the stairs, but when you’re almost asleep, that yell freaked you out.”

“And you haven’t been yelled at if you haven’t been yelled at by War-Prince Elfangor,” Marco nodded.  “Trust us.  He had like the best disapproving angry eyes, this death glare stare.  I haven’t met an Andalite yet who can top it.”

“I don’t think there is one,” Jake said.

“But you know what I miss?” Marco continued.  “As much of a bastard he was, we could get him to do anything.  He really was this old softie.  He bought us the newest Nintendo games and consoles, food, DVDs, CDs.”

“He didn’t get you anything you wanted,” Mom said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, no, not really.  But he did our homework, or _helped_ , until someone ruined that gravy train.  We were fighting a war and she made us not use a valuable resource like that for homework!  She made us study.”

“Yeah, because if we failed, Elfangor would have chewed our butts,” Cassie reminded. 

“He threatened Ax as a tutor on me,” I shuddered.

“But then he’d let us just be kids.  He took us to the beach and parks and just sort of expected us to goof off,” Cassie added, before grinning at Jake.  “Even when he caught us behind the ficus, he threatened to tell our parents.”

Jake’s face flamed and he covered his face.  “Did you have to mention that?”

“He did what? You never said that!” Marco demanded, while Mom and I laughed at the memory.

“He caught you two kissing?” Biana asked, eyes darting between two of them.

“Unfortunately.  I thought he was serious,” Jake said, peeking out.  “I thought he’d actually do it.”

“I still think he would have!” Cassie admitted.

“He was laughing after you guys left, I remember that,” Mom said.  “Smug bastard, but he wouldn’t have told.”

“Not with his mom.  What did you say, she tried to get him married like fifteen times?” I asked.

Mom smiled.  “Something like that.  Ax has no hope against her.”

I winked.  “He knows.”

“Dude, after all this, we’re going to my place, and we’re sharing.  You guys have been holding out,” Marco pronounced.

It was clear the reporter was curious for more, but instead she asked, “Is there anything you miss most about him?”

“We said his cooking, didn’t we?” Marco asked. 

Jake nodded, but then said, “I think what I miss most about Elfangor was he was just always … there.  He was supportive and didn’t judge us or make fun of our problems, even though they must have annoyed him.” He bit his lip.  “He never said it was impossible, even when it should have been.  He never said he couldn’t ever rescue Tom. He gave us hope.”

Marco nodded.  “Even with my mom, he didn’t say we couldn’t do it.  But he was always so … honest.  Well, as much as he was, you know him.  He’d tell you the truth about something, straight up, no pulled punches.”  His eyes turned distant, and I wondered what Marco remembered Elfangor telling him.  “But he did it nicely.  Some people tell you the truth, just because they can.  He did it because he should, because he wanted to warn us.  And what’s worse.  He was always right.  The bastard.”

There was a moment quiet, but Cassie picked it up.  “He always gave someone a chance.  He always had faith in people.  He let Aftran live when anyone else would have killed her.  He gave the Yeerk prisoners the chance to become _nothlits_.  Even though he worried about what it’d do to him, to us, he did it because he thought it was the right thing to do.”

I smiled at that.  “And he swore the entire time he was doing it, prophesized worse-case scenarios.”

“Which we appreciated, by the way.  He gave us nightmares about things that never happened,” Marco said.

“Well, he still did it,” Cassie defended, smiling.

When Biana looked at me, I realized it was my turn.  What I missed most Elfangor was the fatherly feeling he had for me, whatever our true relationship was or what he thought it was.  I knew how I looked at it.  But I couldn’t say that.  “It silly, but I miss the faith Elfangor put in ourselves,” I said slowly.  “For all his talk about failure and possible death, he made us believe we could do anything.  We could win this.  He just _sounded_ so sure of everything, even if we all knew he was just as terrified and unsure as the rest of us, that we believed him despite everything.  I think he sort of taught us all how to believe in ourselves, if only because we’re all still terrified that he might hop up and start yelling as us to stop messing around.”

The others nodded.

“My turn, huh?  I should have gone first, because mine so stupid,” Mom said, leaning forward and folding her hands.  “What I miss most about him … they’re such stupid things.  I miss the way he would completely tear apart a movie or TV show.  I am serious.  If we watched anything, he would sit there and _comment_ on it.  The weapons, the science, the logic.  And any romantic film or something with a couple, he would tell exactly what was going to happen, almost to the second in the film. At approximately forty-five minutes into this film, they are going to be alone and sexual tension will be scripted, just like that.  And he was always right.  I had a stopwatch once.  It was awful.  And hilarious, because he’d be so serious about it, take personal affront about it.”  Mom laughed.  “And then if we watched an animated film or cartoon, he would just _sit there_ and accept everything, no comments on improbabilities or impossibilities or human idiocy or anything.  _That_ he’d sit quietly through, because he could ‘suspend reality’ for that.  I could have strangled him.”

Over the laugher, it was so easy to see Elfangor doing just that.

“But I think I miss just talking with him,” Mom continued quietly, toying with the blue stone of her necklace.  “Not about anything, just … talking.  Though he was really good at coloring someone’s hair.  Magic fingers.”

 ****

That night, after everyone was gone, I stood in the park with Mom staring at the statue.

“He really would hate this,” I said, our little tradition.  “Too dramatic.”

“Too big.”  Life-sized.

We smiled.

He had crashed here, landed here.  This is where I first saw him, first met him.  Staring at the statue, it was easy to pretend it was just when he stepped off his ship.  He could have died that night, but instead he lived and led us to save Earth.  Could we have done it without him?

No.  Not just five kids.  Well, maybe if he gave us the morphing power then, we could have had a chance.  Elfangor might had said we didn’t need him to win, that without us we would have won just the same, but I couldn’t imagine how.  Maybe we would have, but then we would never have known him, not really.  He would have just been the alien who told us about the Yeerks and died in front of us.

I looked at mom, who was still staring at his face.  Another person would have asked if she was happy, that Elfangor would have wanted her to be, but I knew my mom was.  It wasn’t perfect happiness, nothing in life was, but she wasn’t pining for him or other melodrama.  I knew she loved him, missed him, but she wasn’t going to disgrace him by dying because of him.

“You know what I miss about him, really?”

“What?”

“He was the only one who really knew _everything_ about my life.  Well, at least the parts I can’t remember.  He sometimes talked about my mom.”  She smiled.  “He knew stupid things about my childhood.  I wish he would have told me.”

“He wouldn’t have been Elfangor if he didn’t have his secrets.”

“I know.  And he would have told me, someday, I think, when he didn’t think he had to protect himself, had to focus on the war to survive.”

“You would have dragged it out of him, if he had lived,” I smiled.

“Yeah, I would have.”

“Come on, your grandchildren are waiting.”

Mom nodded and went to my car, and I looked at the statute, trying to get that momentary flash where it could seem alive.  “See you next year, Dad.”

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tempted to say this is the real epilogue.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Version #2: Humanity

Epilogue Version #2

 ****

—The Doctor of the Ship _Elfangor_ —

_Damn Captain_ , I thought bitterly as I went to focus on my new “patient.”  The fleet would be better off without them.  What did he think I was, a xenobiologist?  I was a doctor!  And me made me care for the wounded human warriors, demanded me, only because the humans demanded treatment of their fellow.  I understood their demands, but how dare the Captain force _me_ to do such a task?  I am the best in the Fleet, and now I was forced to waste my talents on this worthless specimen.  I had wounded crewmen to deal with!

‹Doctor, the human’s vitals are … stable.›  Nurse Pinalto was clearly unsure if this was a good stable, but he continued.  ‹Pulse is weak, but it is steady at fifty-seven beats in one minute.  Respirations at twelve per minute.  Blood pressure is 105 over 55.›

‹Which system?› I demanded briskly, annoyed at even having to ask.  I should work with the best, not these fools.

‹Humans only have one heart, Doctor.›

I almost bristled at my show of incompetence.  How was I supposed to know humans only had one heart?  How many lungs did they have?  No wonder they were so fragile, no wonder this weak creature was wounded.  ‹How is fluid restoration coming?› I roared, grabbing a handheld scanner to analyze the alien myself, to determine the location and number of each organ.  I would not be made a fool of in my own medical bay!

‹Fluids are almost fully reconstitute based on DNA and will be administered in two point seven minutes, Doctor.›

‹Brain functions are shallow.  Erm, possibly, Doctor,› a nurse reported from her station. 

The Captain was making my entire staff look like incompetents!  ‹Watch them for any changes,› I barked, ‹and get that fluid in him.  His temperature is high.  Get it down.›

‹It is low for humans, Doctor,› Pinalto whispered.

‹Raise it!› I belayed.  ‹Signs of infection?  Parasites?›  Code for Yeerk.  ‹I want a dose of broad-spectrum in him with the fluids!  Check DNA for compatibility before you give it!›

I was going to end up depleting my entire personal supply of _lllsipar_ root and _Beelna_ after this. 

‹Injuries?›

‹The pelvis is shattered on the left side, the long bones of the leg as well.  Right ankle broken.  Minor abrasions on arms, burns on back.  Trauma to skull, fracture.  Three broken ribs, six cracked.  Flooded lung.  Ruptured … other internal organs.›

‹And while you’ve reported all that,› I said, deceptively calm, ‹what had been done to fix it?›

The nurse stuttered an answer and I ignored the response.  ‹Get the damn creature ready for surgery.  Whatever’s ruptured in there, I’ll give my tail tip it’s not supposed to be.  We just got to keep him alive long enough so he can get conscious and morph.›  Damn humans for stealing our technology, but at least it could save this pathetic creature’s life.  He did help the great Elfangor defeat the Yeerks, if rumor was right.  Five minutes post-battle, and already gossip was flying across the channels that the war was finished thanks to him.  And I was stationed his namesake ship.

The bay was a mass of movement and I stared at the human with growing resentment.  If any member of this crew died because I was forced to work on him … well, someone would feel my wrath.  He was my patient, however reluctantly.

 ****

‹What do you want, Warrior Aximili?› I snapped at the youth who had been hovering outside my medical bay. 

‹The human … how is he?› he asked, eyes large and worried.

I tried not to let my irritation show.  Of course the child had grown attached to the humans, no doubt considered them his friends.  His brother should have done a better job keeping him responsible, made him remember his heritage and his responsibility.  ‹He is still unconscious.  As soon as we can get him to morph, we can get him fine.  Physically, anyway.  Now stop blocking my arch, Warrior!›

‹Doctor, he can’t morph!›

My eyes snapped back to him.  ‹Don’t be foolish, we analyzed his blood.  He has the markers.  Your friend lied to you.›  Typical humans.

To my shock, the child grabbed my arm.  ‹No, Doctor.  He.  Cannot.  Morph.  Not _now_ ,› he whispered painfully.

It took me a microsecond to understand the implications, and I did.  ‹Who is that, Warrior?›

The child looked at me, an internal war present in his eyes.  With growing impatience, I nearly snapped at him to speak to his superiors, I was the Doctor of the Ship, and I demanded answers without pause.  ‹Did you know,› he said, ‹that my brother died during the battle?  _My_ _brother_ is dead.›

My stalk eyes whipped back to the makeshift bed in shock and horror.  _No_.  I wrenched my arm free and rushed in, screaming for orders for bone repairs, brain wave monitoring, vitals, for information on human medicine.  The greatest warrior in our Fleet would not _die_ in my medical bay!

Even if he wished it once he woke and knew the truth of his condition, he would not.  Until he looked me in the eyes, I was going to do everything I could to save him.

 ****

 

Loren

 ****

“How is he?” Tobias asked, slipping inside the sterile hospital room.

“Still unconscious.  He might not wake up, the doctors said,” I said, looking at his hand I held and trying into ignore the wires imbedded in him, the oxygen cannula, the hanging bags, the annoyingly constant – but reassuring – beepings.  “How is everything going outside?”

“A zoo, literally.  Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“The Andalites took care of a lot of the physical wounds.  Not everything healed right,” I admitted, brushing the scarring tissue that went up his neck and curled over the back of his head.  “The pelvis they messed up, but hey, it’d be better than what any surgeon on Earth could.  It’s the brain trauma.  The Andalite doctor didn’t want to risk it, everything was too different between us.  Though considering the human doctors aren’t doing anything—”

“He’ll be fine.  He’s Elfangor.  Alan,” he corrected, looking over his shoulder in case anyone heard.  He sat down next to me.

“You don’t have to wait with me.”

“Yeah, I do.  For everyone else.”

 ****

It was two days before he opened his eyes.  It was barely for a few seconds, but I dragged the doctors back and they said it was a good sign.  The next time he woke, it was for longer, and he was too groggy to speak at first, and then too confused to answer many of their questions.

“You’re all right,” I smiled once the nurses left to get the doctor, squeezing his hands.  “We won, it’s over, we defeated them.  Thanks to you.”

He blinked at me, slow, and then tried to pull his hand away.

Oh shit.  “Hey, hey, it’s okay, no one knows.  It’ll be okay, you’ve got everything, it’s all right, Elfangor.  We’re here, we won’t say anything if you don’t want us to.  No, don’t cry, does something hurt, should I get the doctor?”

“No, no,” he croaked.

“Here, drink.”  Without any choice, he did so.  “There, it’s okay.  We’re all here for you.”

He swallowed and looked at me with watery eyes, licking his lips, before his eyes darted around the small room.  Claustrophobia, I remembered.  Panic.  He never wanted this, he didn’t want this.  Even if he loved me, I don’t know if he loved me enough to do this, and I loved him too much to ask him to.  The heart monitor beeped faster, the pressures sky-rocketed.

“Shh, shh, calm down, it’s okay, Elfangor.  You can do this.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Who are you?”

I sat back as if slapped.  “What?”

“Who are you?” he repeated, frantic in his weak voice.  “Who am I?  Who _am I_?”

I wanted to run, to demand the doctors come and fix him.  This wasn’t real, this didn’t happen to people.  So says the woman who also had amnesia.  Shakily, I covered his hand.  “Elfangor, it’s me.  Loren.  Remember.”

He stared without comprehension, panicking in his own unknown world.  I remembered that feeling, that panic and fear. 

“Mr. Fangor, you’re awake, finally,” the doctor grinned as he came in.

His eyes darted between me and the doctor.  “Fangor, that’s my name?” he whispered, grasping for something.

“Yes.  Yes, Alan.  That’s your name.”  I felt the tears on my cheeks before I looked up at the doctor who had overheard everything.  He wasn’t smiling anymore.

 ****

Waking and finding myself alone fifteen years ago, I vowed I wouldn’t let the same thing happen to Elfangor – Alan.  The kids visited, but it was clear after the first few visits it was overwhelming for him and awkward for them.  I promised to keep them informed, and eventually Tobias was the only one who dropped by. 

I tried to tell him his history, but suddenly I realized the problem Elfangor must have always felt.  How much to tell him?  Should I tell him the truth, that he was an Andalite?  I started by not, and suddenly I couldn’t just start telling him differently.  So I lied to him, while the doctors told me to stop talking to him, to see if his memory might come back on his own.  I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, not if he remembered the truth, so I kept telling him his made-up life and alterations of our history.  Maybe he would remember the truth.  What was I supposed to say then?  Would he even trust me if he knew I was lying to him?

But right now, he was desperate for something, and I gave it to him, lies and all.  At least when Elfangor had to me my past, he had always told the truth.  Just his version of it.

It wasn’t until a few days I noticed he tended to daydream, to stop paying attention.  At first, I didn’t mind, it was very over-whelming and probably too much to take in at once, but it kept happening, sometimes several times in an hour.   It was eerie the way he would tune out everything, so I told the doctors. They hooked him up to machines and tested him, and the results floored me.

Seizures.  I never had seizures, and he never even twitched or did anything like TV.  A type of seizures, the doctor explained, called absence seizures, probably caused by the brain trauma.  It hopefully wouldn’t be permenant, and they prescribed something called ethosuximide that should work.  He took it without complaint, feeling like a bother, and I was guilty that it had taken so long for me to say something, even though the doctors said sometimes these types of seizures took a long time to notice because of how they presented.

Aside from his walking – he limped heavily from his repaired hip and knee, and the therapy only seemed to tire him faster – and the seizures, he was moderately healthy enough to be released.  It was a mob waiting for him to leave, and it was only because of the Chee we allowed him to escape without reporters screaming at him. 

We went back home.  The house had been cleaned up, and because of his injury, a temporary bedroom was set up on the first floor. 

Champ rushing to greet him, however welcome, startled him.

“Easy, this is Champ.  My dog.  Down, Champ.”  Champ whined at the lack of warmth, while I bent to scratch his ears and looked up at the man.  “He really likes you.”

He tried to smile and limped inside, using the wall as a support and ended up staring around the middle of the hall.  I knew he was trying to remember something, and it was clear that nothing came.  I left him alone, dragging Champ by the collar with me, and tried not to cry with frustration.  Instead, I focused on taking care of his medications, writing his appointments down, making notes about everything in a planner.

“Who is this?” he asked, limping in and holding a picture.

I looked up and my face froze at what he had.  It was one the Chee had created, one that gave the Fangor brothers a history.  At the time, I thought it would help, and it would be fun see what the Chee could come up with.  Now I wished I never thought of the idea.  “That’s … Alexander.  Your brother.”

He looked at it with renewed interest.  “I have a brother?” he said.  “I have a brother.”  The second time was much more assured and he looked happy.  “Where is he?”

I licked my lips.  In for a penny, in for a pound.  “He’s dead.  He died.  With your parents.  Car accident.”

His face fell and he gripped the frame in his hands.  “Do I have any family left?” he asked, looking at the picture.

“No.”

There was a long silence while he continued to hold the picture.  “Alan,” I asked quietly, moving to touch his arm.

He took a deep breath.  “This … felt right, is all.”  He might have said more, but he limped out of the kitchen and I chose to let him.  He had the right to mourn in private.  Well, almost private, because Champ rushed after him. 

“Good boy, Champ,” I whispered.

 ****

We fell into an awkward routine.  Alan – because that’s who he was now – was sullen and depressed, down in the basement looking at the made-up history for answers to his past (and having too much pride to ask for help getting back up the stairs).  Armed with a barebones history, he seemed ready to force the rest of the pieces of fit, and he was growing angry it wasn’t working. 

The doctor visits and therapy made it worse.  He hated the prodding and once Alan realized this great war we had just won and made him famous, he grew even more angry at not being able to remember his part.  The reporters on the lawn didn’t help, trapping us in the house. 

And neither did pictures of Ax as a human.  Alan was as quick as Elfangor, and he demanded answers, called me a liar, and then would collapse into quiet when I created a new spin to the morphing technology, that he had allowed Ax to become his brother, to act as a cover.

There had been a very awkward conversation about how he had gotten along with _Elfangor_ , but between Tobias and me, we created a decent believable story. 

Sometimes the other kids visited, but they were busy working the rest of the fame.  So far none of the parents had spilled the truth and I hoped they wouldn’t.  If they did, I would kill them myself. 

If would have been better if he remembered nothing, but Alan could still read, he could still do instant sums, and he learned he had a flair for foreign languages. Nothing he could explain or comprehend, but he could do that.  But the computer and electronics eluded him and driving was forbidden – the garage needed a new door, the mustang a new bumper, and he needed stitches – and other minor day to day tasks, even cooking, had to be re-taught. 

I knew where he was coming from, but it was still so difficult.  Alan was as fiercely independent and proud as his old self.  Despite my pleas, he claimed his old room and braved the stairs as if they were a personal challenge to him.  He snapped and snarled when anyone tried to help, and more than once I washed my hands of him for the night.  I had turned into Greer Garson and was stuck in _Random Harvest_ , except my Smithy wasn’t nearly as pleasant as hers.

About the only one who was safe from his temper was Champ.  My dog reverted to his training, retrieving remotes and blankets and clothes, and curled alongside the man, licked his hand and calmed him down.

I loved my dog.

 ****

A year later, I came home to an empty house and found a note from Alan that said he had moved out, not to look for him, he was all right. 

_Screw that_. 

Swearing and crying and dying with worry, I phoned everyone to be on the lookout for him, called the Chee and asked them to look for his credit card, anything.  The Chee came through, tracking him to a little Midwestern town.  I was half way packed when Tobias said hesitantly, “Mom, maybe we should just let him go.”

I looked at him, shocked.  “What?”

“He just needs to … find himself.  Here, he’s surrounded by us, and we’re trying to make him back into Elfangor.  You know we are,” he said. 

“But … his meds, the doctors.”  How could he _leave_ like this?

“He isn’t foolish, Loren,” Erek said, “at least not that foolish.  He’s been planning this for weeks.  He has a house rented there already.  He might need this, to prove he can survive on his own.  Elfangor has always been independent, and now all he had felt is inadequate.”

“But something could happen to him,” I protested.  “He’s all alone there.”

Erek smiled.  “We can keep an eye on him, Loren.  Just because the Chee live here doesn’t mean we can’t move for a little while.”

“You’d do that?”

The android nodded.

With their combined force, I let him go, and forced myself believe that the biweekly reports from the Chee would be enough, all the while wondering if he was ever going to come back.

 ****

One Year Later

 ****

Off the plane, I looked around the airport for my ride.  It had been a hard year, one of worry and concern, but I had learned I needed this time apart as much as Alan did.  While he had to find himself, I needed to recover from the war, to focus on making _my_ life.  Before, my life had been taking care of Alan.

It wasn’t until Tobias left for college on the opposite coast that I decided to do this, and that was only because Tobias received a Congratulations letter from Alan.  It was late by several weeks, but it was the first real contact from him.  It wasn’t sure if it was a subtle way to say he was ready or him just being polite to my son.  Whichever it was, after I helped Tobias move into his new apartment – which took a week, a mother’s job is never done.  I wasn’t sure why he wanted to go to school across the country, I didn’t really _want_ him to go so far away, but it’s what he wanted.  I couldn’t blame it on Rachel, he had made this choice long before they broke up, and I desperately hoped he wasn’t doing it because of me.

So, since I would have to go past when he moved, I figured why not just tell Alan.  Let him know about what Tobias was doing now.  After all, Champ would be fine with the Chee for another day or two.  And that’s how I found myself searching for Beth, the Chee in the area.

The Chee were always prompt and she found me before I found her, and then drove me to her house.  A hound-mix named Elvis eagerly greeted us. 

“Tobias is settled, then?” she asked as we ate ordered Chinese.

“Yes, eager for the school year.  And getting rid of me.”

“He is ready to make his own life,” Beth said simply. “Just like you have made your life.”

I smiled.  “Such as it is.”  I had met with many of the _nothlits_ Elfangor had created, and at a loss for something, allowed myself to get sucked in my El and Leo’s work in helping their former brethren.  I knew the two really only wanted me for my donations.  But I agreed with their work, what they were doing.  It was more El’s passion than his, and the two argued something fierce, but I could tell there was some mutual respect.  Or possibly some unwanted passion, if judging by El’s change in wardrobe lately, though I couldn’t say with any certainty it was due to Leo. 

“It is a good thing to do,” Beth said.  “Do you have his address?”

There was no need to ask who she was talking about.  I had it memorized, but I nodded and said it was written in my purse.  “Is it far away from here?”

“It is on the river about two miles away.”

“I never really thanked you for watching over him.”

Beth scratched Elvis’ head.  “He is our friend as well.  We owe him for everything he did, for what you did.  And the world isn’t always safe for heroes and the famous.”  Dimly, I nodded, remembering the stalkers, creepies, and the few more angry people that had bothered us.  “Here, most people don’t know his alleged truth.  But if someone knew his truth – real or otherwise – he could be in danger.  Or at least very much harassed by reporters and other humans.”  She fed Elvis an eggroll.  “You can use my car to get there, I usually bike in this weather.”

“Thanks.”

“I am sure he will be glad to see you, Loren.  He has improved, yes, but he hasn’t forgotten what he can remember.”

 ****

His house was on a small lot of a stretch of road that had about thirty houses along the river.  There were flowers around the mailbox and building, and I looked at it as I stepped out of the car.  The garage was closed, but I hoped he was here. 

Nervous, I went to the porch and, after spending a few minutes staring at the beautiful view of the water, knocked on the door.  There was a chorus of barks on the other side, and I smiled, rolling my eyes.  Of _course_ he’d have gotten a dog.  Champ was going to be so jealous.

When the door finally opened, I tried to smile while he blinked in shock at me.  At his ankles were _two_ dogs, each trying to rush out, and one of them finally did. 

“Calvin, no!” he yelled at the white terrier that was leaping up against me.  “Down!”

Laughing, I knelt to pet him before saying, “Hi, Alan.”

“Loren, hi,” he replied, still staring at me.  “Sorry about Calvin.”

“It’s all right,” I said over the barks and licks.  “What’s that one’s name?”

“Hobbs.”

The names amused me and I wondered if he had purposefully picked them or if it was just luck. 

We stood there for a long moment before Alan blurted, “You should come in.”

The dogs jumped up and followed me around, but I ignored them in favor of looking at his home.  There were huge windows to overlook the water in the small kitchen/dining room, and it opened to a living room.  I saw a door leading off to the rest of the house.  “This is nice.”

“Yes.”

“I should have warned you I was coming.  Spur of the moment thing.  I just moved Tobias in his apartment.”

“He is here?” Alan asked, surprised and eager.

“No.  On the coast, for school.  College.”

“That is good.  He did get my card, didn’t he?  It was on the news and I wanted to … to send a card or something.”

“Yeah, he got it.  It was good to hear from you, though next time I think you’ll probably make sure you don’t put a return address on it, huh?”

“No good now,” he joked.  “Sit.  You want a drink?  I’ve got lemonade, coke, sprite.  Water.”

“Lemonade is fine.”  He rushed to get the drinks, and I took the time to gauge his movements and appearance.  The limp was still there, but not as pronounced, and his hair was long enough to cover much of the scarring on his neck.  The dog Hobbs jumped up on the couch next to me while Calvin followed his owner’s movements, and I chuckled.  Leave it to Alan to not teach the dogs that rule.  “Your dogs are nice.”

“Thank you.  They are good company.”

“How did you get them?”

“Newspaper.”  He handed me my glass.  “Originally, I tried to get Hobbs, but another person called first, so I got Calvin.  And then Hobbs was free and I had one puppy, and so I figured why not?”  He made a face at that possible mistake.

“Champ would be jealous, he always thought he was your favorite.”

Alan smiled.  “Some days, he still is.  Potty-training was not fun, especially for some.”  He looked meaningfully at the white dog that was gnawing on a bit of rope.  “How is Champ?”

“Fine.  Getting his age now, you can tell.  He usually sticks to the downstairs and will only run after a stick a few times before laying down.  These two probably wear _you_ down,” I said, scratching Hobbs’ head.

He nodded.  “Is Tobias studying something in particular?”

“No, he’s undecided.  He’s got the basic classes, and a few pointless ones, but, well, at least he finished high school.”  Unlike some of the other kids.  Well, it wasn’t fair.  Some of them were trying, but other ones ….  “College is a bonus.”

“He will do well,” Alan answered.  “And the other children?  The news only gives the big stories.”

Despite myself, I had to smile at the term he used to ask about them.  Some things might never change.  After giving rather abridged versions how their lives were going and the changes back home, he asked after me and I returned the favor.  Aside from getting the dogs, he claimed his life was rather bland compared to mine.  He had a doctor in the city and worked out in the gym, walked the dogs twice a day, messed around in the dirt or on the water.  Some night he went out.

“Are you staying in the area long?” he asked.

I tried to think of an answer, because I never actually _thought_ about how long I was going to stay here.  But then I was shaking my head.  “No, a day or two more.  I just wanted to say hi, I guess.”

“Ah.  Okay.  So you are staying in a hotel on the other end of the city, then.”

Deciding not to lie, I said, “Friend, actually.  She moved out here.”

His face twisted with sardonic amusement.  “What an interesting coincidence.”

“It’s nice to know you’re still a suspicious bastard, Alan, and that some things won’t ever change,” I smiled over my drink, hoping my face didn’t confirm his theory. 

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Beth O’Donnel, and she is an upper supervisor or something to this city’s mall.”

“Mall?” he said, confused.  “The mall’s twenty minutes away.”

“The biggest store in town.  Wal-Mart,” I spelled out.  “The mall.”

“Oh, oh,” he chuckled.

“It’s only until her Wal-Mart gets rebuilt.  The way it sounds, no one’s really happy about her transfer, even her.”  The Chee never liked to make waves.  “She’s sort of extra, not much to do.”

“Why did she get sent here?”

“Who understands corporations?  She did say she asked for somewhere quiet.”

“She got that.  Hope she enjoyed spying on me,” he said bitterly.

“Beth did not spy on you.” She just kept an eye on you.

“Sure she didn’t.”

It was hard to lie when he was right, and he knew it. And it was hard to not feel guilty, because even I could understand a feeling of betrayal, the feeling like no one trusted you.  “Well, since she must have spying and that’s the only reason I’m here, I guess I’ll just head out, since I learned what I need to.”  The dogs jumped up when I stood, tails wagging.

He blanched and stood as well.  “You don’t have to go.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.  I have a flight to schedule, to get back home.”

“But you just got here … we were talking, you should stay.”

I rubbed my temple, fighting a headache.  “No, I probably shouldn’t.  I came to say hi, and I did.  And you know what, fine, I asked Beth to make sure you didn’t end up in the morgue.  She got here purposefully because, maybe it probably didn’t make the papers here, several of the kids got a few stalkers.  Fans.  Psychos.  You should have seen what Rachel did to hers.  Excuse me for being worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself,” he defended.  “I don’t need you to protect me!”

“I’m not protecting you, I was making sure you were still alive!  Tobias is across the country now, but at least I can trust him to pick up a damn phone to know how he’s doing!  Not run away in the middle of the night and make everyone panic.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know.  You weren’t thinking for once.  I forgave you for that, I moved on with my life.  But we were friends and I don’t forget my friends.”  I laughed for a second.  “And you are one to talk, Alan.  You followed me for _weeks_ before you even introduced yourself.  You even admitted it.  You actually lied to the government to find me.  Before you judge me and what I did, you find out what you did first.”

“How can I when I don’t _remember anything_?!  I don’t this _war_ or what I did or anything!  I don’t even know who I am!”

“You don’t know who you _were_ ,” I corrected, truer than the plain words implied.  “You know who you are now.  Whoever you were two years ago, that doesn’t matter anymore.  Just like it doesn’t matter who I was eighteen years ago.  I know it _sucks_ not knowing anything about your life, your past.  It blows.  But at least you had friends that never left you, at least you could still see.  At least you didn’t lose your son.  I would have given _anything_ for someone to check up on me, to help me.”

He was looking down at the ground, fists clenched.

“I’m glad you’re doing great, I really am,” I said.  “But trust me on this, you don’t find out who you were if there’s no one around to tell who you were.  But you do figure out who you are pretty fast.”

“Not that fast,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t seem that way, but it does.  It’ll come together.”  I stepped close enough to touch his shoulder.  “You look good, Alan.  If you’re ever in California, look me up.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he said again, eyes darting up to meet my gaze.  “There is stuff to see.”

“Like what?” I laughed.  This was a drive-by city, between bigger cities, and the cities were farther apart than most.

He faltered.  “Well … there is a good place for coffee in town.  My treat?” he suggested, trying for an assured grin but failing miserably.

“I guess that could be okay.”

His smile became truer and he said, “We can go now.”

There was something of Elfangor in that, someone who never liked to hesitate for too long.  He had always called in vows within a few days, always arranged things to his mental plan as soon as it came to him.  “Only if it is actually good coffee.”

“It’s ahead of the curve,” he promised before turning to pick up some keys.  Almost instantly both dogs jumped up and barked at the door, tails wagging.

“They know what that means,” I laughed.

“They can stay home for once.  No, no, living room,” he said firmly, pointing.

Could there be anything more pitiful as they walked away, giving the eyes of the hopeful betrayed?  However, I wouldn’t let myself get played by two manipulative furballs, and I followed him out to the garage, and he flicked the light on and switch to open the garage.

A green pick-up truck sat waiting.  I had to blink at it.  “You bought a truck?”  This from a man who bought Mustangs and other fast sports cars?

“I like it.  But we don’t have to use that.”  He led me around it and beamed happily.

If the truck made me gap, this shut down my brain.  It took me a good ten seconds to speak.  “You ride a _motorcycle_?!”

“A _Harley_.”  He had the nerve to sound like he was correcting me as he picked up a helmet and tossed it to me.  I caught it only by sheer luck. “I had to get the truck for Winter.  And rain.”

“A Harley,” I repeated.

“You would not believe the feeling you get riding it, the wind in your face, everyone disappearing around you.”  He sat down on the bike and set his hands on the handles, a faint wisp of a contentment.  He looked at me.  “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.  I won’t let you fall.”

“Yeah, but when the car smashes into us and makes us a greasy spot, what are you going to do then?”

He grinned.  “Be a greasy spot.  Don’t be such a baby, put the helmet on and trust me.”

I made a face and put the smug thing on.  It was tight around me.  “Where’s yours?”

“You’re wearing it.”

“You have to wear a helmet!  It’s not safe otherwise.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s against the law.”

“Not here.  _Trust me_.  I will endeavor to do my utmost to avoid getting in an accident.”

“That is not funny.”  Pouting and still reluctant, I got onto the bike behind him.

He looked over his shoulder at me.  “Don’t worry.  I’m not going to let you die on this.  I promise.  Now, hold on.” The bike roared to life and instinctively I grabbed him.  He chuckled under his breath.  “Trust me,” he repeated before driving us away.

Still gripping for my life, I could easily figure out why he liked this death trap.  At least from my position, arms tight around his torso, if I blocked out the sound of the engines, it could be just like when he ran as an Andalite.  Maybe he did really like it without any unusual theories, but it was also possible – more likely – that his mind and soul could remember this feeling.

Though my heart was pounding in my ears, my fear of death was rapidly falling.  Even still, I didn’t loosen my hold.  Riding like this brought back my own memories, and for a second a would have risked my brain getting splattered to rest my cheek against his back.  It wouldn’t have been the soft suede-like feeling, nor the odd sort of scent Elfangor had always had, but maybe it would have been close enough.

It wasn’t fair for me to transplant Elfangor over Alan, I knew that, but that memory … I wouldn’t ever forget it.

I jerked for a second when I felt Alan cover my hand with his own, just like he had done when he was someone else.  And despite my initial urge to tell him to keep both hands on the handles otherwise we were going to crash, I bit my tongue and enjoyed the ride.

 ****

I refused to feel guilty or hurt as I watched the woman walk away.  However, no matter how much I refused, there was still the small flame.

“She seemed nice.”

“She was.  Is.” Alan had the sense to not say anything platitudes or excuses, to say it hadn’t meant anything or it didn’t last long.  It just looked like he was wishing he had picked another place to eat.

Part of me desperately wanted to know everything, ask everything, but instead I forced myself to eat my shrimp and vegetables, even if betrayal wanted to choke me.  Beth so failed at being a spy.

 ****

“Hobbs likes you.”

The dog in question looked up at his master before going back to gnaw on his stick, tail thumping on the dock.  My feet hung in the brown water, from either the mud or from the tree waste acting like ever-lasting pine and oak teabags, and little minnows nibbled my toes.  “And Calvin doesn’t?”

He sat down next to me, scaring the minnows away when his feet slid into the water.  “Nah.  Calvin just can’t be trusted not to dig up my flowers.  He gets dirty too fast.”

“That’s why you never get anything white.”

Laughing at the joke, he took the stick from Hobbs and tossed it into the water.  The dog jumped with a huge splash that got my knees and thighs wet, and paddled after it.  He got it and headed back to shore, clearly already aware he couldn’t get back on the dock from the water.

“Great, now you have a wet dog.”

“I’m used to it.”  The dog was running back down the gangplank, and Alan tugged the stick free after a short tug-of-war and tossed it back.  Just as willingly Hobbs followed, drenching me again.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I’m not sorry for what I did, but I didn’t do it to cause you pain.”

“I know.”  I kept from saying he probably intended to never see me again, because I knew it my anger talking, and I didn’t want to give him the chance to actually admit it.

“I had to get out of there.  All of you worrying and staring and waiting for something I couldn’t do.  That disappointment.  All the time being surrounded by this place that was my supposed to be house, and nothing was familiar.  I couldn’t breathe there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”  Hobbs came back and shook himself again, before leaping after the stick that floated in the water.  “And Amanda … I liked her, but it didn’t work.  Too soon or too late or too guilty or too not guilty.  My head wasn’t on straight, and it still isn’t.”  He pulled off his socks and shoes.  “Maybe I was trying to be normal.  I don’t think I can be, though.  Everything is just … off.”

“None of us are ever going to be normal again,” I said, kicking some water.  “All our heads are messed with from fighting, from dying, from _not_ dying and everyone else dying.  God, don’t tell them I said this, but I think my son is the only one getting close to normal, and he was always the weird one.”

“He seemed normal to me,” Alan said, a touch reproachful.

“Trust me, his life was messed up before he started fighting the Yeerks.  Between me and his relatives and just … a crappy toss of the dice, he had a messed up childhood.  And now he’s the only one that’s really getting a normal life.  College.  Rachel and Marco are too busy enjoying the high life or making tabloid stories, Cassie’s using this to save the rainforests, and Jake … well, he’s trying too, I guess, but he’s already working for the military.”  I looked at him.  “Maybe it’s your fault.”

“What?” he started.

I smiled fondly.  “You were always such a tyrant to him about school work and grades.  He had to think about his future.  You were awful to all of them, but Tobias got stuck with all of it.  You threatened Ax as a tutor.”

“And his brother would have let me?”

“Yeah.  It mattered to you both that they didn’t mess their lives up too much.”

Alan nodded and looked at the water.  “That I think I can believe,” he said in a quiet voice.  “I wish I could remember him, though, just to be sure.”

I bit my lip.  “You and Elfangor, you’re basically the same person, just different species.  You terrorized them as a human, kept them steady, and he did it as an Andalite.  You two were peas in a pod.  Seriously, if you think it, he probably thought it too.”

“It still doesn’t help.”  He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.  “Did you love him?”

The question made me start, and I was glad Hobbs gave a momentary distraction with his return.  It wasn’t long, though, and this time Alan was looking straight at me with his green eyes.  Awkwardly, I played with the blue stone necklace that had been his gift those years ago.  “I … Elfangor kept himself apart from me.  I think, if he actually let me, I would have loved him, but it was hard to love someone who doesn’t want to love you back.”  It was made worse by those flashes where he slipped or let himself slip and I could see that he did love me, in his way.  When he was human, he was always so much more open, willing to let himself get closer, but as an Andalite, it wasn’t until the end he let me get near.

“Even if he was an Andalite?”

My lips twisted.  “That would have been a hurdle.  One that would have been too much, even if we had loved each other.”  Because that was the whole reason we never did get together, because Elfangor was always thinking of the end.  I would have happy to just have the moment, but he wanted a future.  He let himself go that last night, that wonderful night, because he was afraid we’d never get another chance, because he wanted it too.  “Talk about star-crossed love, huh.”

“Yeah.”  He looked back at the water, and half-heartedly kicked his feet.  “He did love you.”

The admission shocked me.  “What?  How do you know?”

There was a long pause, as if he didn’t want to answer but knew he had to.  “I found the file of Andalite fairy tales.”

I had forgotten about that, that Elfangor had said he wrote them out for me, assuming the file got lost.  “So?  That doesn’t prove anything.  I asked him to.”

“Someone doesn’t write all that, with footnotes and details, just because someone asks them to, not like that.  Not over five hundred pages of it.”

“Size ten font, single spaced, one-inch margins,” I added quietly.

“Yeah.  He wrote it for you.”

Maybe I could have lied and said I nagged him to, but instead I looked back at the water, at the minnows.  “Well, he said he would.  I thought he was joking.  Did you like them?”

“Yes.  Even if he wrote them for you, there was a certain … comfort from them.  They helped me sleep.”

“That boring, huh?” I joked, but staring at him, I wondered if it was another thing he remembered from being an Andalite.  I could remember him saying his parents used to tell them to him, that his father added the inappropriate funny parts and his mother shared his love of the nature tales.  “Andalites probably are long-winded even in their fairy tales.”

“They weren’t that long.  I should have given it to you when I found it.  I’m sorry.”

“What was I going to do with a bunch of stories I probably couldn’t even understand?  If they helped you, then I’m glad you didn’t.”  I gave a small laugh.  “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t.  Marco is all up in arms about each of us writing a book.  He wants _Animorphs On a Shelf_.  I would have given him that to get him off my back.”

“You’re not going to write a book?”

“Trust me, no one wants to read about my boring ole life.  I didn’t even do much except play Den Mom.  The kids did everything, they deserve the recognition.”

“You did more than that.”

“Maybe.”

“If you wrote a book, I’d read it.”

“Since half the world read both Marco’s and Rachel’s books, that’s not as supportive as you think,” I said.  “Between those two, the competition for the most sensational tell-all is on.”  Though I was relieved they were circumvent in what they told, considering the Chee, and that they went the extra mile to create Alan from parts of Elfangor.  “Even if I wanted to, everything has already been said, and I’m not nearly as devoted as Cassie to write a whole book on animals or the world, or like Jake and could write about the tragedy.  Both Paul and Emily wrote about their very different experiences too.”

Part of me wondered, with so many people knowing the truth, if one day the real story about Alan would come out.  I was secretly terrified Jake’s parents or Naomi would say something, because I couldn’t even imagine the frenzy that would happen, nor how the Andalites would react.  El and Leo knew the truth as well, but they felt they owed it to him to keep the secret.  But someday, it could come out, and how would Alan take that?  Would he think we had lied to him – which we had, were – would he be angry, would he already have suspected?  Alan was too much like Elfangor to not eventually notice the too many similarities, and I secretly feared that day. 

“And what about Tobias?”

“He has to focus on school first,” I said stoutly, leaving those worries behind.  “But, well, maybe something he’ll give him own version, though I shudder to think what he’ll say about me.”

“Nothing but the best,” he smiled.  “Well, at least I have an excuse to not write a book.”

“Use it while you can.  And I think your puppy is tired.”

He followed to where I pointed, where Hobbs had stretched on the grass.  “Lazy.”

“You really whipped that stick.”

“Upstream.  I could have sent it downstream and never saw my dog again.  Do you want your fairy tales?”

“It’d be nice to read them, but if you want them, it’s okay.”

“You should have them.  He wrote them for you,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Well, maybe,” I said, “but he never gave them to me.  I think that’s the point of writing something like that.  Writing it is good, but actually sharing it, that’s special.”

“Just because he died before he could doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have,” Alan argued.

“Just because Elfangor died doesn’t mean you can’t, Alan.”  I set my hand on top of his.  “Trust me, Elfangor would have wanted you to.”

His green eyes, Andalite green, met mine.  “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.  And I think he’d want you to read them to me and explain everything doesn’t make sense.”

“They make perfect sense,” he said defensively.  “But I’ll still read them to you.  If you like.”

“I’d like that.”

His hand turned to cover mine, and he looked down at them as his thumb stroked back and forth.  “It would take weeks for me to read all of them to you.”

“Really?  That’s a shame.”

He looked up at me.

“I kinda hoped it’d take longer,” I admitted.

“Well, maybe you’ll need to hear them a few times before they start making sense.  Andalites are hard to understand if you’re human.”

It was a strange choice of words and I wondered if there was some hidden meaning, but instead said, as I covered his hand with my other one, “Even if you’re an Andalite, I think.”

“Will you stay?”

“For a little while, yes.”  When his face fell, I touched his cheek.  “I have a dog in California that will miss me if I never go back, Alan, and I have friends and responsibilities there.  I have to go back, if only to get my dog and say good-bye.”

“Maybe when you go back, I could go with you?  The lease is almost up and I don’t have the money to buy this place.”

I laughed.  “Alan, if that wasn’t a lie, nothing else is.”

“You caught me.”  He brushed my hair back.  “I like your hair like this.”

“Thanks.  Now, are you going to read to me, or are you going to let the mosquitoes eat me alive?”

He pulled his feet from the water and helped me stand, holding our shoes and socks.  “I guess I could save you, just this once.  Though after you hear me read, you’ll probably wish I left you to the insects.”

“You’re not going to scare me, Alan.  Now, read me,” I said, pulling his arm.

“Loren, I don’t think _that_ would be appropriate.  At least not out in the open.”

I turned to gape at him, wondering if I misunderstood, and even though he looked innocently mischievous, there was an aura of uncertainty.  I couldn’t tell if he was serious in his comment, what he really wanted.  I never could, not with him, but I made a firm decision that I planned to hold.  I wasn’t going to let anything happen, I wasn’t going to rush this.  However, there was no harm in flirting, especially when he started it.  Deciding to play the game, I answered, “Well, Andalite fairy tales are just like bedtime stories.  I wonder where the best play to read them would be?”

“I think I have a few ideas,” he answered through the flash of red.

“I’m sure you do,” I murmured.  “I hope you’ve got a good story picked out, too.  I don’t want to fall asleep too soon.”

“You won’t.  I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I don’t.  Come on, Hobbs!  In the house, now.”

The dog jumped up, stick included, and rushed to us.  After taking the stick away and we were all inside, Alan showed me the thick manuscript he had unknowingly written, before lead me upstairs to the screened balcony to read the story of _Veyoup_.  It lasted until late into the night, his voice turning hoarse until I took the pages away, turned off the lamp, and we curled up under the blankets to fall asleep.

I didn’t have the heart to admit that story had me completely lost, and it wasn’t because I was only paying attention to his voice or heartbeat. Andalite stories were impossible to follow, it probably _would_ take me years to understand it.  But that was okay, even though Alan was probably not going to be able to talk for the next few days above a whisper.

I’d make him some honey tea in the morning, I promised, and snuggled deeper against him.

 ****

 

—Ax—

~1½   year later

 ****

I was anxious, nervous, and excited all at once as I watched the ship land.  But of course, I am not allowed to show that.  I am a Prince, albeit a rather young one, and I must exude calm and poise at all times.  It isn’t that hard for me.  All I have to do is ask myself, how would Elfangor have acted.  Then I do that, or, in certain and few instances, the direct opposite.  I am a newly minted Prince, after all, while Elfangor had years under his tail.  And he _was_ a hero, a true hero.  I may be a hero as well, but not like Elfangor.

Even still, the excitement was over-whelming.  I was to see my brother again, for the first time in over three Earth years.  To see him with my own eyes, to see how he had changed and managed.

Not that he would truly know, of course.  Like Loren all those years ago – and I do not find pleasure in the coincidence, because it reeks of _Ellimists_ – his mind is not as it once was.  But he is not dead, which it what he truly believed would happen that fateful mission.  Though he never implicitly stated it, I knew.  Elfangor believed with all his hearts that he wouldn’t live to see the end of the war.  And, in a fashion, he was right.  Prince Elfangor, for all intents and purposes, was dead. 

In his place was the human Alan Fangor. 

It was better.  Had he lived and been his true self, I cannot contemplate the consequences he would have faced.  Even though the people view him as the hero he is, the Electorate and the military would not have been docile.  It was a fact that rocked me on my hooves, that they _would_ have sought retribution.  Dead, he was given the full honors, and there would be no black mark on his record.  Alive, they would have tormented him.

I was pleased that such a thing wouldn’t happen to my brother, even if I had to pretend he was gone, to accept he was human.  It was not that difficult, honestly.  I had grown used to his human morph and his acceptance of it.  He had still been Elfangor.  However, I am glad he cannot remember being an Andalite.  It was a slow realization, something that stuck me in my captain quarters, but he wouldn’t have wanted to know he was a _nothlit_.  Elfangor took pride in being an Andalite, and it might have shattered him to be human.  Just because he could blend it did not mean he desired being human.

Though, I believe he was human more than he’d ever admit.

The ship was just finishing its landing.  My friends would soon be disembarking, the first few humans on my home world.  There was a ceremony, honoring Elfangor.  I had to smile, because he was a hero on both our worlds.  Marco’s last communication said that there might be a holiday named for him, though Marco complained that it so far going to be in the summer.

I kept in contact with all of my human friends, though I spoke with Tobias, since he is my _shorm_ , and Loren the most.   Loren told me how my brother fared, about his trials and therapy and even the months he had gone missing.

That had panicked me, and I was almost back to Earth before I finished her communication.  I had been afraid someone knew the truth, that they were harming him, seeking vengeance.  In the end, it had been nothing more than my brother desiring to be away, to find himself without people that knew him from before.  Even though Loren had been just as worried, she said that it had done him well.  He was more like his old self, confident and self-sufficient. 

_“He might have given us all grey hairs, but he was right,” her voice said from the console.  “We smothered him.  He’s an adult and isn’t going to break easily.  But I’m still pissed at him._ ”

There, I could see movement, and I grinned broadly as I saw my friends leave the ship.  I could see Rachel, her hair shining; Marco, laughing; Tobias, looking around; Jake and Cassie, holding hands.  Perhaps they saw me, for they waved.  I wondered, amused, if they truly did see me, if they could tell the difference between Andalites yet, but I waved back.  It would not due for them to mistake another Andalite for me.

I did not see my brother or Loren, but I refused to worry as I went to them in the meeting area.

“Ax-man, look at you!” Marco greeted.  “You’ve grown!  Our little Andalite, all grown-up.”

“Now he’s almost six inches taller than you,” Rachel said sweetly.

I smiled.  ‹Greetings, Marco.  Rachel.  Cassie, Jake, Tobias.  Was the trip pleasurable?›

Cassie nodded and spoke of the flight, how beautiful my planet was.  They all spoke about their first impressions of my world, and I basked in their praise.  I hadn’t thought it would be so, but their good impressions of my world pleased me greatly.  It must have been how they felt when I spoke of Earth’s good qualities. 

“Which moons are those?” Jake asked, pointing.

‹They are the _Twins_ , in their _Bayop_ position.›

“Whoa, look at the crowd,” Marco said, meaning the Andalites on the other side of the partition.  They were stopping and examining my friends, the first humans they likely would have seen in person, since they were, no doubt, civilians.

‹They have not seen a human before.  Forgive them for their lack of manners.›

“No worse that what Andalites go through on Earth,” Jake said, though he looked self-conscious.  He was straightening his shirt and hair.

“Now I know what being in a zoo feels like,” Rachel commented.  “Though I can see why they’re trying to see Marco.  He is a little odd.”

Tobias smiled and pointed.  “Look, there’s Mom and Alan.  About time.”

I instantly turned my main eyes to the deck.  Loren was speaking, gesturing to the sky.  Her hair was longer, blond, and she wore a skirt and had a small bag over one shoulder.  The other held by brother’s hand, and I studied my brother. 

He was using a cane.  Loren said he only used it sporadically, when he strained it doing some activity, as Loren stated, he probably wasn’t supposed to be doing in the first place.  But he looked healthy from this distance, and he was smiling at Loren’s obvious enthusiasm. 

“He fell asleep a few hours before we got here,” Cassie said, and I turned my main eyes back to them.  I kept a stalk eye on the others, though.  “That’s why they took so long.”

‹I was not worried.›  I paused for a second, lowering my voice.  ‹He is well though, isn’t he?›

“He’s doing great, Ax,” Tobias said sincerely.  “Seriously.  There’s only a few bad times.  You know his temper.  It hasn’t changed that much.”

Jake added, “And he’s still active in everything, the whole Andalite-human liaison.”

I smiled.  Loren had said something about that.  It had been my brother’s idea to assist both sides into this alliance.  Andalite visitors had classes even _before_ venturing to Earth, information on the culture and warnings about taste.  The classes were always filled, even for citizens that weren’t going to visit, because Elfangor – that is Alan Fangor personally paid for shipments of popular food for them to be accustomed to.  Shipments that, eventually, had to be placed under guard.

“They’re thinking of making our adventures into a movie,” Marco said reverently.  “Guess who’s going to play me?”

‹I cannot imagine, though what does this have to do with my brother?›

“Nothing.  Marco’s head is just getting more swollen.”

“Hey, I seem to remember someone bitching about the actresses that wanted to be you, Xena.”

Our conversation was ceased when Loren and my brother arrived.  She grinned.  “Hello, Ax.  Captaincy suits you.”

‹Thank you, Loren.  Greetings, Alan.›

My brother smiled slightly and inclined his head.  “Greetings, Aximili.  Does the grass grow well?”

I blinked in surprise.  It was a common enough greeting, for an Andalite.  Humans wouldn’t say such polite things, and I was shocked to think my brother remembered the custom.  I looked at the others, but they appeared unconcerned.  ‹Yes, of course.  And do the suns shine for you?›

He laughed.  “Only one these days.”

“What time is the ceremony, Ax?” Loren asked.

‹It is tomorrow midday, at 5:05 AM, your time.›

“AM?” Marco repeated, and my friends all looked surprised.  “Midday?”

‹I have arranged transport to where you will reside,› I continued.  ‹Do you need to get any supplies from the ship?›

“Midday?!” Marco said again.

My brother sighed.  “I told you, the Andalite homeworld has longer days and you’d have jet-lag.  You should have started altering your sleep-wake schedule when I told you.”

“No, you said, _better get ready to leave.  You should go to bed at two in the afternoon today_ ,” Marco corrected.

Loren interrupted.  “We were told our things would be brought to our quarters later in the day, Ax.  I wouldn’t mind a bit of a tour, if you don’t mind.”

‹It would be my pleasure.›

 ****

“Poor Alan,” Loren said, sounding more amused than actually full of pity as we looked down at my brother surrounded by Andalites, patiently answering their questions.  “They were supposed to be a surprise for you.”

I smiled, though I was still disappointed.  I would have liked a cinnamon bun, at least one.  Box, that is, which is what I was suppose to have gotten.  ‹I understand.›

“I didn’t know so many Andalites knew his name here,” Loren said.

‹We can read,› I said.  ‹It is no secret that Alan Fangor sends shipments of food for the human classes.  He is actually one of the most famous humans on my planet.›

“Me and the kids rank there?”

‹You are behind Betty Crocker, Mrs. Butterworth, and Sara Lee.›  Loren laughed.  ‹You are against tough competition.›

“I know, I know.  Does it cause a lot of trouble, the classes and everything? He’s trying to help, and I think he liked his idea a lot.  He was so … passionate about it, getting permission and all.  He reminded me a lot from before.”

‹I think the benefits out-weigh the problems.  The people learn about humans now.  While you are not to our intelligence or technology, you’ve got something that interests us.›

“I hope we’re not a fad,” Loren said.

‹Food is not a fad.›

“Did I tell you, he was thinking about teaching Andalites cooking classes.  It’d mean full-time human presence here, not military teachers.  Yeah, I know, Andalites in kitchens.  Has disaster written all over it.”

‹The idea … it has merit,› I said diplomatically.  ‹Perhaps someday.  And what of the human end of learning?›

“There’s college classes that teach Andalite literature, or try to.  Honestly, they’re just reading your fairy tales, nothing very difficult.  The book itself is a best-seller, though half the people don’t understand anything.  You should _see_ all of the help-books on it, which are thicker than the book itself.”

‹Do you need assistance?›

Loren nodded.  “Yeah, I do.  I can’t keep all the characters straight, and, well, sometimes I think your brother has a flair for elegance and eloquence.”

I smiled.  ‹I read what he wrote.  With minor exceptions, it is how they are told.›

“Then all Andalites use far too many words,” she pronounced.  She looked down.  “He doesn’t have trouble understanding.”

‹How do you mean?›

“You remember how he greeted you?  I don’t know how he knew that.  Sometimes, he just does.  Look.  He’s talking with them, and none of them are offended.  Honestly, if one of us had been down there, do you think that’d be the case?”

‹It is possible.  Are you saying he remembers?›

“Yes, and no. The doctors think it’s subconscious, like muscle memory.  But if he thinks about it, he won’t be able to.  When he had to relearn math, it was like pulling teeth.  And believe me, I understand how he felt.  He knew he should be able to do it, but he kept pushing and pushing and getting more frustrated.  But once he got it, he could do it.  All of it.  And it’d just start everything again, because he knew he obviously knew how to do things, but he couldn’t.”

‹And now?›

“Honestly, I don’t know what he knows or remembers.  He stopped going to therapists and doctors.  They annoy him. But, well, once we found him, after the idiot ran off, he was better.  Calmer, more balanced.  Like he made his peace with his past.  I’m not saying he remembers being an Andalite,” she said quickly.  “He doesn’t.  That I’m sure of.  But he seems to have learned his limits.”

‹I am glad.  I only wish him to be happy and at peace.›

“He misses you.”

I startled.  ‹He remembers me?  Well, of course he remembers me but … he _remembers me_?›

She understood what I was asking.  “No, no.  He knows he has, or had a little brother.  The pictures,” Loren said, shaking her head, and she touched my arm.  “But he misses the brother, you, and he’s very fond of you.  And he was very proud when you were made Captain, Ax.  I think part of him does know.”

I felt humbled and grateful.  Even if Loren lied, I wanted to believe it.  ‹Thank you.›

“You should visit us, soon.  We’ve moved.”

‹I remember you wrote that.›  She had said it was because Alan never felt comfortable at the house, where he couldn’t remember his past.  ‹Where?›

“A distance away.  We’re in the country now.  By a vineyard.  Alan’s made friends with the owner, Mr. la Fleur.  Jean, that’s his name, uses him to test his new wines.”  We shared mutual smiles.  “We get a case every few months, and Jean’s trying to get Alan to join his wine club.”

‹Does the home please you?›

Loren nodded.  “Yeah, it does.  We still visit the city.  That’s where all the business is, but I like going back to the peace and quiet.  So does Alan.  He can run, or at least hobble, with the monsters.”

‹Does Tobias like it?›

“I think so.  He’s not there too much, what with college, but he doesn’t hate it.  And we still have the other place.  I didn’t want to sell it, not yet anyway.  Maybe we’ll just give it to him.” 

My brother laughed and I heard a few Andalites join in.  ‹I have a question to ask.›

“Yes?”

‹Tomorrow, after the ceremony, I am to visit my parents.  Would you care to join me?›

“We’d love to, Ax,” Loren said.  “Both of us.  And Tobias will probably want to go as well.  Besides, I should meet the in-laws.”

I smiled.  ‹I hope they will like you.  I hope you will like them.›

Loren nodded, understanding.  Then she grinned conspiringly.  “Would you like to know a secret, Ax?”

I looked at her warily.  Human secrets could be troublesome.  ‹Very well.›

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

It took me a moment to realize what she was saying and I gapped.  ‹You are expanding?›

Her nose crinkled in amusement and, I think, mild offense.  “Yeah, though I won’t have put it that way.”

‹You are to have a little one?› I repeated, because it was a lot to take in.

She grinned broadly.  “Yes, I am.  In a little more than seven months.”

I looked her over.  ‹That is …. It is wonderful.  Congratulations.  Does my brother know?›

“Aside from my doctor and me, you’re the only one who knows.”

That surprised and did anger me a bit.  I had not wished to take something special away from my brother.  Loren must have understood.

“I just found out, Ax, before we left.  I’ve wanted to tell someone.”

‹Why did you not tell my brother?›

“Because I think he’s working up the nerve to propose.”

Again I was shocked.  ‹How do you know?›

“As clever as your brother is, he makes his own little mistakes.  The first is not shredding his credit card statements.”  I failed to understand.  “When Alan does his finances, he rips the paid ones in half and throws them away so, if a bill does fall in, it doesn’t take long to find it.  And it works.  Believe me, I wasn’t being nosy, but I saw a purchase from a jewelry’s, for a ring.”

I understood this bit of human customs.  A lot of movies showed me how it would proceed.  ‹Are you sure?›

Loren looked down, smiling at my brother.  “Pretty.  It’s not near my birthday or any holiday.  I want him to ask, Ax,” she said, “and I don’t want to take away from that, and I don’t want to rush him.  But I will tell him if he doesn’t propose soon.  I’ve been dying to tell someone, and I want to tell him.  Do you think he’ll be happy?”

‹Yes,› I said instantly.  ‹How could he not? Young are very important.  He will be pleased.›

“Thanks.  I mean, I thought so too, but it’s nice to hear you say that as well.”

‹May I welcome you to our family?› I asked, trying the old fashioned question. 

“Of course, Ax.  And I’m glad to be part of it.” She looked at me, and for a moment her smile shifted.  “I wish you could be at the wedding.  I think it would be soon, but I think he’ll want it small and private.”

‹I understand.  And I have many responsibilities, now.  But you will tell me everything, yes?›

“You know I will.  And when the baby’s born, you will be flooded with pictures.”  She laughed merrily.  “I think we should save Alan.  He’s getting stressed.”

I studied my brother and could detect no change in him from before.  ‹Very well.›

 ****

I looked at my companions.  Tobias and Loren were asleep, the transition between our planets too much for them.  They were curled under blankets, protecting themselves from the light and the wind, in a corner of the hovercraft, out of the way of hooves and legs.  My brother, however, was standing, watching the scenery pass with intent eyes.

‹How do you find our planet, Alan?› I asked.  It had taken me a long time to ask it.  I admit it; I am scared to talk to my brother.  I do not want to let something slip and damage his peace, but I so desperately wish to speak to him. 

“It’s lovely, Aximili,” he breathed.  “Like something out of a dream.”

‹A good one, I hope.›

He smiled and turned to look, the wind tossing his hair up.  “One of the best.  I hope we are not troubling your parents.”

‹No.  They are eager to meet you.›  Of course I was lying, and I believe he caught it.  My parents had little desire to meet humans, even ones that had fought alongside me.  However, I had asked them if I may introduce these three, whom I said were favorites of Elfangor.  Father agreed more readily than Mother.  He wished to know of Elfangor’s accomplishments, turning a blind eye to the troubles Elfangor had caused by aligning with humans.  Mother … I do not know what she thinks, but she still misses Elfangor.  ‹They are,› I repeated.

“They just don’t know it, I suppose,” he said.  “How shall we be expected to call them?  I doubt they will permit their names shortened as you allow.”

‹No,› I said quickly, eyes wide at the thought.  While I allowed the humans to shorten my name, looking at it as a way of friendship, our parents would emphatically _not_.  ‹No, they would not.  Upon the first greeting, I think it would be wise to speak their full names.›

“It would be most respectful.  I will not mind.”

Of course not, I thought, amused.  However, Tobias and Loren were not accustomed to Andalite names and would likely make a mistake.  That would be embarrassing, so hopefully I could convince my parents to allow the humans to call them by their primary names.

“It’s nice to get away from the ports,” he said, looking back out.

‹Away from your fans?› I teased.

“Buy an Andalite a meal, and they follow you forever.  I do wish they hadn’t found your gift.”

‹I do not mind,› I lied.  ‹It is the thought that counts.  Hopefully my people have not been too curious.›

“I like curious Andalites.”

‹Too overbearingly curious, then.›

He chuckled.  “Over-zealous, perhaps, and eager.”

I nodded, though his statement sparked a worry.  Not all Andalites accepted this change.  I feared that some may try to hurt my friends, my brother.  My friends I worried less about.  They could morph, but my brother could not.  And he remained wounded.  His hip and knee troubled him, because of when the bones had shattered, and could not flee.  Not that any human could run as fast as an Andalite, of course, but I worried.  The humans were to walk with at least one military officer as protection.

‹We shall be reaching home soon.›

He nodded and after a moment went to wake the others.  Mother and son, even to my alien eyes, looked remarkably similar after waking, and they yawned and rubbed their eyes.  And Tobias, my _shorm_ , looked just as familiar to my brother.  They had Andalite eyes, as Loren called them.  At first I hadn’t understood, but she explained the green color.  And I agreed, there as a touch of Andalite in them.  I wondered if Elfangor had done it on purpose. 

We were at the family scoop within a short ten minutes, and the craft slowed and gently landed.  My parents were waiting, and even before I walked three feet, Mother was by me.

‹My little Aximili,› she murmured, touching my cheeks.  ‹You’ve returned.  You look like your brother had those years ago.  Dear Elfangor.›

I took her words kindly.  She had changed these years.  Her fur was tanner, and she was thinner.  ‹Mother.›

‹My Aximili-kala,› Father said.  ‹I do not know if I can call you that anymore.  A full Prince and Captain!  Come, dear, stop embarrassing him› – I had to control myself there, to keep from swishing my tail like a child, because Mother had not called me that silly nickname when my friends were so near – ‹and let him introduce his friends.›

Of course, Father did not sound especially eager, but he was polite.  Mother, however, stiffened and did not look pleased that she’d have to deal with my friends.

‹I do not see why you felt to invite them, my little one,› she said peevishly, silently so only us Andalites could hear, or so I hoped.  ‹We wish to see you, not the humans.›

If my friends heard, they made no motion.  They stood politely, waiting.

‹Father, Mother, these are my fellow warriors from Earth.› I had to speak firmly here.  I had to set ground rules.  They _were_ warriors and they should be treated as such.  Father understood and I think Mother did as well.  ‹This is my _shorm_ , Tobias _____.  Tobias, this is my father, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf, and my mother, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.›

“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintence,” Tobias said politely, though he was obviously nervous.  His hands were twitching, and he did not even attempt their names, which, I suppose, was a blessing.  It was, though, mildly rude.

Both my parents were shocked at Tobias being my _shorm_ , though, and did not notice the rudeness.  ‹Your shorm?› Father repeated to me, and Mother mirrored it.

‹Yes.›  I waited a pause, to see if they would greet Tobias back, but they didn’t.  A rudeness, but the humans would not know.  ‹This is his mother, Loren _____.  Loren, these are my parents, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf and Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.›

She smiled, looking as nervous as Tobias had been.  “I’m so happy to finally meet you.  Ax has told us so many things.”

‹‘Ax’?› both parents repeated again.

‹Humans find my name difficult to pronouce with their mouths.  I’ve allowed them to shorten it.›  However, the damage was done, again.  My parents made no reply, and I controlled myself for the last introduction.  ‹Mother, Father, this is Alan Fangor.  Alan, these are my parents, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf and Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.›

My brother stepped forward, bent slightly at the waist, and looked at them.  “I, Alan Fangor, am honored to be allowed onto your ancestrial fields, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen, and to be your guest.  May you find me, and my companions, worthy of Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill’s friendship.”

I held my breath, looking to my parents.  They were shocked.  It was the polite greeting of a meeting between a friend’s parents, done as well as a human could do.  It took a moment, but my father twisted his tail in a welcoming gesture, the proper response, and said, ‹May you find our home as pleasing as yours, Alan Fangor.›  Then he said to me, ‹This one will do.›  Father had always placed an emphasis on rituals, and I smiled.

Mother had no choice but to follow, though she was less gracious about it.  Her tail movements were too angular.

‹Mother, Father, may the humans have permission to use your primary names?› I asked.

‹No,› Mother said shortly.

‹I will allow it,› Father countered, casting my mother a bit of a disapproving glance.  She ignored it. 

‹You may call the humans by their primary names as well.  They will prefer it.›  Then I spoke to my friends, adding, ‹Please, try not to mistake my mother’s name.  It will be a great insult.  It is Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.›

Both Tobias and Loren looked worried, but my brother nodded. 

We stood awkwardly for a second.  ‹I will show them our lands, Father, Mother,› I said, desperate to get them away.

‹Very well.›

‹Keep them away from the awning and flowers!›

‹Forlay, they will not harm them.›

‹Of course, Mother.›  I turned to the humans and, as politely as I could, managed to convene the urgency that we get away as soon as possible.

“Well, that didn’t go so bad,” Tobias said, obviously lying.

“I like them,” Loren agreed, though I thought her voice sounded forced.  “What did you think, Alan?”

“They are gracious hosts.”

‹I am sure it will be fine.  Father has agreed to let you call him by his primary.  That is very good.  Just … do not shorten it.  At all.›

“Of course we won’t,” my brother said.  “Now, show us around before we need to eat.  We need to know where a fire will be appropriate.”

 ****

I was relaxing, minutely.  Father was willing.  He spoke, distantly, with the humans, though he made the typical Andalite comments private to me, such as, ‹They are rather comical› and ‹How often do they fall down?›  Mother remained untouched.  She hadn’t appreciated Loren and Tobias making mention of Elfangor.  Loren had made a comment about a childhood story Elfangor had told her, about him getting his tail stuck in a scoop beam.  Father had laughed and retold it, making all of us laugh.  Obviously, he thought if his son had told her that terribly embarrassing story, she must have been worthy of his friendship.  Mother was, however, defensive of Elfangor’s clumsiness. 

‹You know he was as bad as _Veyoup_ , dear,› Father said.

“The story of _Veyoup_ is very popular on Earth,” Tobias said.  “They’ve made a cartoon show of it.  All the kids love it.”

‹What is a cartoon show?›

‹It is a form of entertainment, Father,› I explained.  ‹Two-dimensional drawings are shown to give the illusion of motion and they tell a simple story to amuse little ones.›

‹They mock Andalite heritage!› Mother snapped.

“It is done as a cultural learning experience, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.  Humans learn best if they do not think they are being taught,” my brother said calmly.  “Andalite advisors monitor all steps so that everything is honorable to Andalites.”

‹I would like to see one,› Father said.  ‹The story of _Veyoup_ is a favorite of mine.›

“I can arrange for you to receive a copy when I return to Earth, if you should like.  It would arrive with the following food shipment.”

Honestly, I cannot say if my father was being truthful or merely polite when he agreed to the scheme.  However, I was pleased when my brother and father went off by themselves to the diagrams table and speak privately when the subjects turned to more interest on Earth.  Mother soon went off to tend to the landscape.

“Ax-man, I don’t think your mom likes us,” Tobias said.  “At all.”

I could think of nothing to respond to that, except, ‹I know.›

 ****

Tobias returned back to the port, promising to come back the next day.  He and the others were going to a ceremony.  Loren spent her time listening to my father and brother, speaking with me, and examining my childhood home.  I showed her the images of Elfangor and I when we were younger, something that amused her greatly.

“He was right.  You were cuter as an Andalite kid.”

I merely accepted her comment.  We spent some time looking at the childhood toys.  The puzzles Loren tried for a few moments, then gave up with a laugh.  I hadn’t the heart to tell her they were the equivalent of toddler toys, but I don’t believe she would have been embarrassed.

“I’m glad your father at least seems to like Alan,” she admitted.  “What are they doing, anyway?”

‹Father may be showing him diagrams of things he designed.  I believe they were speaking of current events earlier.›

Loren nodded, and we stood watching them.  And then I was curious.

‹What is my brother doing?›  Whatever it was, my father was fascinated.

“I don’t …”  She paused, then laughed.  “It’s origami.  Paper-folding.  You make animals and objects by folding a single piece of paper, preferably without ripping it.  Jean’s daughter taught him a few months ago and he got interested.  I think that’s the crane, which most people learn.”

My brother showed my father the delicate paper object, and my father took it, studying it intently.

“He’s actually good at it,” Loren continued.  “Me, I’m all thumbs.  I mess up so many times and it’s lopsided.  Marjorie thinks it’s hilarious.”

‹I did not know humans did such things.›

“Not everyone.  It’s sort of a hobby.  Some people make elaborate dragons and ships.  But I don’t know how.  Alan just makes flowers and animals, things most people can learn how to do.  Secretly, I’m terrified that he might go all Andalite and make this impossible thing.”

We watched as my father carefully constructed his own.

 ****

I ate with my Mother the next morning.  I had to.  It was the only way I could spend time with her.  The humans couldn’t keep up, and Mother hadn’t softened enough to speak to them like Father had.  He, at least, seemed to follow Elfangor’s and my fondness for the species, if only because Loren spoke highly of Elfangor and Elfangor actually was himself.  I held no illusions that he would tolerate other humans as well.  I think he barely did so for Loren.  Her only saving grace was that Elfangor had obviously spoken far more than I was even aware of, for she commented on all this that my brother had said.  As for my brother, I think my father respected that he followed the rituals.  Maybe, just maybe, he recognized Elfangor.

Father would amuse Loren and Elfangor.  Loren had, from the moment I saw her that morning, a dazzling smile on her face, and I saw her wave the back of her hand at me, saw the glimmer of a ring.  I understood, smiled, and offered my congratulations.  Even though my brother seemed to have blushed, he beamed happily and told us that Loren was expanding.  I pretended to not have known, and even Father spoke his congratulations.   No doubt they would speak of various things related to families.  I could only hope Father would not speak of my childhood stories.

Mother was pleased to be away from the humans, to have me all to herself.  ‹You must eat more, Aximili.  You are getting thin.›

‹Perhaps you should eat more as well, Mother,› I said politely.

She drew tall.  ‹These years have been difficult.  I was very worried about both of you.  You should settle down.›

‹I will, in time.›

‹Yes, I know.  I wish your brother … I do expect you to find a nice female.  I want to see a little one or three around here again.  And I would like to be able to keep up with them.›

I blushed slightly.  ‹In time, Mother,› I repeated.  It wouldn’t pay to say I was still young, or so I thought of myself.  Mother had been little older than me when she joined with Father, and not even close to Elfangor’s age when Elfangor had been born.  It had been, I remembered, one of her most needled and unsubtle points when Elfangor visited.  My brother had, unlike me, expertly ignored them, which may have been why Mother had been so very, very unsubtle, so unsubtle that _I_ understood at that young age.  I wondered, since I had learned the truth, if it was because of his time on Earth, his fondness for Loren.  I believe I like to think so.

I could think of no other topic.  ‹Loren is expanding.  She has recently found out.›

Mother sniffed.  ‹Ah.  That is … fine.  I believe I saw them mating last evening.›

‹ _Mother!_ › I gasped, shocked.   I had woken when my brother had taken a stroll in the night, obviously still unaccustomed to Andalite time.  Loren had woken perhaps an hour later and I had told her which direction Elfangor had traveled.  ‹You followed them?  You watched?›

‹Aximili, do not be so silly.›

‹You would not wish to be observed,› I countered, feeling ashamed of her behavior.  They were her guests.

‹They were by _Hala Fala_!› she snapped.  ‹That … that human dared to act like he could converse with the tree, Elfangor’s guide tree!  And then she arrived.  They have no morals, no sense of decency.›

I stared at her.  ‹Mother, they meant no offense.  Humans … they are a very close pair, Mother.  And Elfangor was very fond of them.  He would not be offended.›

‹I do not see why those humans live and my son is dead!›

‹Elfangor would not have traded his life for one of theirs, Mother,› I said gently.  ‹For any of the humans or mine.  He wouldn’t have wanted it that way.›

‹He was a fool.›  Her voice was bitter.

‹He was brave,› I countered, ‹and a hero, respected on both worlds by his sacrifice.  He has brought the Yeerk threat to a halt.  There is no higher honor.›

‹It is a cold comfort to a mother.  My son is dead, his body gone, mostly like feasted on by those vile Taxxons!  My son, strong and brave, is dead, while those weak humans live.›

I fell silent.  ‹Mother, if Elfangor had survived the war, you do know he would have been exiled.  He would have brought you shame.›

‹Not my son! He was a hero.›

‹He broke many laws to be that hero.›

Mother’s tail snapped.  ‹Do you think I care about the laws he broke?  He was my son, your brother.  I loved him and all I see are the humans taking his praise because he cannot accept, hear stories that he himself cannot tell me.  Because he is dead and they are not.  Humans like those ones!  I know my son; he shielded and protected them.  If they had been true warriors, not weak beings, he may still be alive, he –›

‹Mother, they are true warriors!  They risked death just as often as he, as I.  And he was _proud_ of them.  Please, he would not wish you to speak so.›

‹I do not want to see them,› she hissed.  ‹They killed my Elfangor.›

I felt lost and I looked hopelessly around for an answer.  The truth, but Mother, standing with anger, I did not think she could hear it.  But then, these words, they had festered within her.  ‹Mother … Elfangor gladly gave his life to save us all.›

‹He shouldn’t have had to!  Curse Seerow and the Yeerks!›

‹If it hadn’t been the Yeerks or Seerow, it would have been another enemy, another Andalite.  Elfangor was a warrior.›  Wanting to give her some peace, I knew what I had to do.  Without thinking I stepped and took her hands, and she jerked in surprise.  It was a human act, not Andalite.  ‹Mother, he is alive.›

She reared back, tried to take her hands, but I held them.  All her eyes were on me.  Disbelieving, but desperate to believe.

‹The final battle, he was in morph and Andalite fire had damaged the part of the ship he was in.  He was wounded severely, in morph too long.  He is a _nothlit_ , Mother.  It was too late when he was found.›

‹Where, where is he?› she demanded.

‹When he healed, he was not who he once was,› I continued.  ‹He does not know himself as an Andalite.  He does not remember any of us.›

‹Where is he?› she demanded more shrilly.

‹He is here, Mother.  The human male, Alan Fangor.  It is a human play on his name, Al Fangor.  Elfangor.  Mother?  Mother, are you all right?›

She had frozen, and then suddenly she jerked free and danced away.  ‹Why do you torment me, Aximili, with such lies?  Where is he?›

I shook my head, another human trait.  ‹Here, Mother, with Father.  He is human, now.›

Mother felt the truth, and I saw it shatter her.  ‹No, no!  I would rather him dead than be one of them dreadful things!  No, he is dead!  I will not allow them to steal him from me!›

I stared at my mother as she went mad and ranted.

‹You lie to me, Aximili.  You break my hearts,› she finally whispered, but I think she knew it was true.

I stepped closer, slowly, and touched her cheeks like she used to when I was a child.  ‹Mother, he is happy now.  At peace.  He has a mate, he has a son.  And he is to expect another little one.  Can you not be happy for him as well?›

She didn’t answer.  It was a difficult question.

‹Please be at peace as well.  He would not wish you ill because of him.  You know this.  Let him go.›

‹He was my son,› she keened softly.

‹He still is.  Speak with him and you will see.  Alan is just as much Elfangor as he ever was.  Please, Mother.›

‹Leave me, Aximili,› she demanded, pulling free.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to do.  ‹Very well, Mother.  Run well.›

And I ran back, scared, even though I was a Prince and Captain, and I wondered what I had done, if it had been right. 

 ****

“Ax, you did the right thing,” Loren said later, when my brother had started making a meal and was out of earshot.  “Honestly, I never thought you’d never tell them.”

‹But I cannot say if it was the right action.  My mother …›

She touched my arm.  “Ax, it’s all right.  I understand.”

‹Maybe, but I cannot help but feel ashamed at her actions and treatment of you.  She does not, cannot … she will not let herself …› I could not explain.

“Sometimes, Ax, we can’t all be friends,” Loren said, gently.  “There are people I can’t stand through no fault of their own.  And she’s hurting.  She lost her son and isn’t herself.”

‹Perhaps,› I allowed.

“You should tell your father, now, before your mom tries.”

I wilted, slightly.  While I hadn’t wanted to tell Mother, I feared telling Father.  So much for being brave, I suppose, because I would rather face a battalion of Hork-Bajir Controllers than tell my father the truth.  ‹You are right, of course.›

Loren smiled when I made no motion to move.  “Ax, you actually have to go over and tell him.  Despite how safe it might be to just yell it from over here, he’ll want you to tell him privately.”

‹I told the last Andalite.  Perhaps you should try this one,› I said, trying to joke.

“If you’d think he’d listen to me.  And not chop my head off.”

I couldn’t be certain of either of those.  ‹I suppose I must, then.  Wish me luck.›

“Good luck.  And if you want, afterwards join us for food.  We’re having macaroni and cheese with tuna.  Yum.”  She was obviously being sarcastic.  The humans had been living on simple meal fares, as my world does not have, yet, a Starbucks on every corner. 

‹Perhaps.›  Trying to act casual, I trotted over to my father, who was, at first glance, not watching my brother cook.  However, closer, it was obvious he was filing away the actions.  ‹Father, may I speak with you.›

‹Aximili!› he smiled.  ‹Yes, of course.  What is that thing Alan is holding?›

‹It is a saucepan.  He is using it to soften pieces of macaroni, a food high in carbohydrates, by boiling water.›

‹I can see that,› Father sniffed.  ‹Do the males typically make the foods for humans? It seems so troublesome to have to make something when one could just graze as Andalites do.›

‹Yes, true.  Actually, in a stereotypical viewpoint, the cooking of family meals is seen usually as a female occupation for many human cultures.  However, Alan enjoys the practice, and it is just as well, because Loren’s cooking abilities are not … very diverse.  These days, males as well as females may cook without humiliation.›  I took a breath.  ‹Father, I need to speak about Mother.›

His stalks drooped a bit.  ‹I had wondered if you would bring your concerns up,› he said quietly. 

‹She is … I know she does not like the humans.  She—›

‹Blames them for Elfangor’s death,› Father completed for me.  ‹Yes, I know.  You must understand, these past years have been very trying for her.›

‹I do understand.  And … and I do not ask that she likes humans for my benefit.  However …› I paused, trying to gain courage.  ‹However, I told her something she did not wish to hear.›

‹If it is that you said it is what Elfangor would have wished, I have said the same.›

‹No.  Wait, yes, I did _say_ that.  But I told her something about Elfangor.›  I took a deep breath and decided to get it out.  ‹Elfangor is not dead, Father.›

Father stood straighter, froze, and his tail blade twitched just the slightest.  ‹I fail to understand, Aximili.  The Council … the news is …›

‹Elfangor was wounded during the last battle severely.  We – the humans and I – chose to let the others think him dead, for his benefit.›

‹My son … he is a _vecol_?› he whispered, horrified.

‹ _No!_ › I yelled, horrified at the thought.  ‹No, well, not precisely, Father.›

Father looked confused and angry.  ‹Aximili, speak what you must!  I will not have half answers about your brother.›

‹Elfangor is a _nothlit_ ,› I said softly.

‹A _nothlit_?› Father repeated dimly.  I nodded carefully.  ‹What is he?›

‹He is a human, now.›

My father’s stalks moved slightly, so they could examine Loren and my brother.  I struggled to remain still.  ‹Human?›

‹Yes.›

Silence.  ‹Is that human my son?›

I was shocked, and I showed it.  ‹Father?  How did you, that is, yes, yes, Alan is.  How?› I asked, curiously.

Father gave a dim laugh.  ‹Let me have the honor of at least knowing my own son, Aximili.  Why do you tell me this?  Why not Elfangor?› he demanded, hurt.

‹Elfangor does not remember,› I explained.  ‹The accident damaged his mind.  He cannot remember being Andalite.  He honestly could not remember being human.›

‹I see.›  My father’s eyes closed.  ‹And this you told your mother?›

‹Yes,›

‹You should not have.›

I hung my tail low.  ‹I was trying to give her some peace.  I feared, though, I made things worse.  I apologize.›

Father gave a deep huff.  ‹It will pass, we hope.  Your mother was always protective of your brother.  I cannot see her lasting long in her state when your brother is alive.›

‹I had always thought she has been too protective of me,› I said vaguely.

He laughed, jerking from his grim thoughts.  ‹You, she did not have to worry about crashing into objects or tripping down hills.  Your brother … it was amazing he managed to be the coordinated Andalite he was.  You were a blessing in your balance and poise after him.›

I smiled, though I could find no true humor in it.  I had never seen Elfangor as such, and no doubt my parents exaggerated his difficulties, as first-time parents are wont to do.  ‹Are you dishonored by him, knowing the truth?› I asked.

‹No.  You were right.  It is better this way, for him.  I know what would have awaited him had he lived.  And he is not a terrible human, I suppose.  Are you sure he has no memory?›

‹As far as the humans know, nothing conscious.  He may naturally recall the odd custom or greeting, but Loren says he cannot do so if he tries to.  Of course, Elfangor has always been private.  He might remember more than we know,› I said.

‹I read the name, Alan Fangor, often.  He is doing good, is he?›

‹He is building a strong foundation for Andalite-human relationships,› I said, a bit proudly.  ‹Loren says he is responsible for many of the organizations on both worlds.  Like the human culture classes here, and the Andalite awareness acts on Earth.  He is almost as well-known to Andalites as a human as he was as an Andalite.›

Father looked amused.  ‹Yes, yes.  I cannot understand the need for human culture classes, though. They give lessons in strange things.›

I looked at him squarely.  ‹Father, when you encounter a cinnamon bun for the first time as a human, you will _completely_ understand the necessity.›

Father laughed.  ‹Is it something dangerous, Aximili-kala?›

‹Only in vast quantities.  It is better to have Andalites making a fool of themselves on our world than on Earth in the mall.  Even I have difficulty controlling myself.›

‹Did Elfangor?›

‹Elfangor had much more practice than I.  However,› I smiled wickedly, ‹even he fell prey to certain human delicacies.›  I shook my head.  ‹It is beyond description.  Perhaps someday you may visit Earth and sample their cuisine.›

Father looked slightly disappointed.  ‹I doubt that shall ever happen.›

‹Perhaps.›  Suddenly I had a thought.  It was not the first I had ever had it, but I felt I should address it to Father.  ‹Father, I must tell you, humans are not as long-lived as Andalites.›

‹Oh?›  He caught my point, and I his unasked question.

‹Elfangor is perhaps 40 Earth years old, which is comparable to perhaps ten years older than his Andalite age.  Humans rarely live to be 100.  By 60 or 70, they are generally weak and feeble and suffer health problems.›  It made me sad to think I would naturally out-live my brother by many decades.  ‹If you wish to see him again, do not put it off for too many years.  Humans change quickly.›

‹I understand,› he said softly.

‹Perhaps you should visit in a few Earth years,› I suggested, ‹with Mother.  By then, their little one will have been born.  Even though it isn’t biologically, it would be your grandchild.›

‹Yes.›  Father gave a strange smile.  ‹Maybe that will appease your mother, to have a little one expected.›

I smiled.  ‹If you must know, you do already have one.  Tobias, the other human, he is Elfangor’s child as well.›  I laughed at his surprised expression.  ‹It is a long story that I do not even know the entirety of.  I do not even know if Elfangor knew the truth.›

‹I do not understand.›

‹Father, do you believe in Ellimists?  There is not much more to understand, or what I can explain.›  I would not share my brother’s secret.

‹Ellimists?›  Father’s tail waved.  ‹Fairy tales.›  He caught my expression.  ‹Aren’t they?›

‹No, Father.  They are _annoyingly_ real.›

I do not know if that shocked my father more than the truth about Elfangor.  He, however, chose a different topic.  ‹I believe I should find your mother.  Hopefully we will return before they depart.  I would wish to say good-bye.›

He started to run, then stopped twenty feet away and looked back at me.  ‹I am glad you told us, Aximili.  Thank you.›

‹Of course, Father.  As am I.›

 ****

 

—Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf—

~2 years later

****

Earth was an odd little planet.  Our Aximili should have told us that.  Those infernal classes we were forced to endure – and I will have _words_ with my son about them, and I do not know which son I mean – did not give this planet the full ideal of oddness it deserved.

It was over half water!  And there was literally animal-life crawling everywhere.  And it was close.  Too close.  Humans have a great love for enclosed places.  No doubt because they are so crippled, it makes them feel safe.

The countryside was better, more normal.  But not.  It was all so odd, and it kept my wife from being nervous, from letting her mind dwell.  My dear little wife, who I still fear will one day take her tail to her own throat. 

Her human morph, something she subjected herself to only with the severest distaste, was, we have been told, aged by human standards.  Her hair was brown with steaks of white, the same with me.  Her eyes were brown, her coloring darker than Loren’s had been.  I did not know much more on how to describe a human.

“Do you still wish to attend?” I asked, slowly, awkwardly.  There had been _many_ lessons about speaking.  Andalites were not allowed to go to Earth until we could speak without too many pauses.  At least during the tests. 

She did not respond, though she heard.  I wished I could have seen her eyes.  I have been bound to her for so many years, I was adrift without seeing at least _one_ of them.  And to not feel her thoughts so unconsciously.  Human morphs were too disconcerting.

“The driver may still turn around,” I continued.  “Aximili will not be angry. Nor will the human, I am sure.”

“I … I wish to see. See,” she said quietly, and I felt the burst of emotions.

I was relieved, because I _did_ wish to see.  I missed my eldest son and truly wanted to see my human little one and his family.  His own little one.

The vehicle we were in finally drew to a stop in front of a large dwelling, a _house_ , I recalled.  We exited and the driver departed.  Awkwardly, we approached, looking around for dangerous things.  The classes were merely classes.

I knew we had to go to a door – knew what a door was – and that we had to knock.  Wait for it to be opened.  But this house did not look like the ones in the pictures, and part of me wondered if the human driver had merely abandoned us in the middle of nowhere for his own humor. 

I led the way and, at the door, looked about.  My wife hovered behind me, nervous.  Cautiously, I knocked.

Nothing happened, except a great racket on the other side, and we both jumped back in fear.  The classes had not gone into that detail.

Worried about the noise, that it meant danger, we looked at each other.  But the door also did not open, which, according to those classes, it _should_.

“Perhaps … you must hit it harder?  Der.”

“And the noise?” I asked.

We didn’t have to worry about knocking again, because over the noise inside, we could hear the familiar voice of our son’s mate.  “Quiet!  Calvin, Hobbs, no.  Stop barking!  Quiet!  Kitchen, now! Go!”  Her voice sounded vexed, and the door was finally opened. 

She had changed since I had last seen her.  Her hair was different, shorter, and her face … it was not as I remembered.  Aximili-kala was right.  Humans do change quickly.

“Yes, can I help you?” she asked, and I thought her voice did not sound very welcoming.  “Are you lost?”

I looked to my wife and said, with more bravado than I felt, “We have arrived.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Wha – Oh! Oh!  Noorlin?  You’re early!” she exclaimed, and opened the door wider.  “I wasn’t expecting you until next week!  Come in, come in.”

Ah, this the lessons covered.  “We finished the class early.  And you have a lovely home.”

“Yes, lovely,” my wife mumbled.

“You’re quoting your lessons, aren’t you?” she smiled, shutting the door.  “Don’t feel you have to stand on ceremony here.  You’re family.”  She said the last bit softly, looking at both of us.  “And I do welcome you to my home, Noorlin, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.”

We stood awkwardly, and then we jumped back as two small fuzzy creatures appeared, rushing towards us.

“NO!  Sit!  Heel!” Loren yelled quickly.

The creatures, one white and another a mixture of brown, white, and black, stopped their motion.  The white one made the loud familiar noise and raised an appendage.  We looked at Loren.

“Ignore them.  They’re harmless little monsters,” she said, smiling.

“What … what are they?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t show my fear.  My human heart was racing.  Forlay was slightly behind me.

“They’re dogs.”

“Dogs?” I repeated.   They did not look like any of the pictures.

“Well, actually I think they’re little devils,” Loren said.  “They’re actually your son’s pets.”  She bent down to them and ran her hands over their heads, possibly to show that they were safe.

“Elfangor has such creatures?” I asked, still not trusting, but the creatures seemed to like Loren’s attentions.

“He spoils them.  He does it with all dogs.  They’re okay.  You can pet them.”  Her voice coaxed us over, and I carefully advanced.  I knew if I didn’t, my Forlay never would.  The white dog got to all four of his feet and looked up intently at me, but Loren grabbed a thing around his neck to keep him from approaching.  “Calvin, sit.”

The dog made a strange sound but returned to his previous position.  Again he raised his front leg.  “Why does he do that?” I asked.

“He wants to shake.  He thinks he gets treats that way.  It’s okay, they don’t bite.”

Very slowly, I bent and ran my hand down the white creature’s head.  It was soft fur, and he seemed to like it.  His tail – if such a small appendage could deserve the title – wagged. 

“You can pet Hobbs, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen,” Loren suggested, and I turned my head to see that my wife hadn’t moved.  “He’s much calmer than that monster.”

Even unaccustomed to reading my mate’s emotions on a human face, I could see she was not very interested.  But she did approach and gave the other creature a firm pat. 

I continued to pet the white … dog, and my wife stood back after her initial attempt.   At first I thought it was because she didn’t wish to continue, but then I followed her gaze and saw a much larger creature coming slowly towards us.  It was larger than the other two, and it made me scared, but the small white dog rolled to his feet and barked at the newcomer.

“That’s Champ, _my_ dog,” Loren said.  “Don’t worry, he’s a lot better than these two.  Or at least Calvin,” she amended.  “He won’t hurt you.”

Both of us continued to stare at the large dog, who seemed content to realize what had entered his territory, and went back where he came, ignoring the white dog that followed for a few steps, and then rushed back.

“Behave, you.  Do you need to demorph?  Or would you like something to drink?” Loren asked, breaking the silence as she stood.  I followed suit, and so did the dogs.  Their tails were wagging.

“Where is my … I son?” my wife demanded.  I winced at the rudeness.

If Loren was offended, she did not show.  “I’m sorry, he’s not home.  We weren’t expecting you today, and he had some business in town.  But he should be back in an hour or two.”

I tried to contain my disappointment.  “We are an inconvenience.”

She smiled.  “Hardly.  Come on.  I’ll give you a tour of the place.  If you’re hungry, you can go for a run in the pasture.  We’ve got, I think, three different varieties of the Andalite grasses.”

“You have Andalite flora?” my wife said, surprised.

“You are not the only Andalites who visit us,” she said.  “And, if anything, Alan cannot do without it.  True, he cannot _care_ for it, but he wants it about just the same.”

And, surprised, I saw the females give each other tentative smiles.

 ****

The house was confusing, but it was at least very spacious.  It was not like the pictures I had seen of human homes.  There were large glass walls to see outside, high ceilings, open staircases and walkways on the second floor.  There was enough space everywhere that even as an Andalite I could have navigated.  The two little dogs followed us everywhere, which was a relief in that the big dog didn’t.

And there were plants everywhere.  Some were Earth, and some Andalite.  I had to compliment Loren on the care of a _Yeppin_ , notoriously difficult to care for.  “Apparently my son’s skills have improved.”

She laughed.  I was slowly learning to like the sound.  “Alan is actually forbidden to even look at that.  Gafinilan says that if your son even glances at it, it wilts in terror.  And it probably does.”

I laughed as well, and my wife smiled. 

“Actually, you’ve come at a lucky time.  I’m absolutely _positive_ Alan is going to get the righteous scolding he deserves when Gafinilan does arrive.  You see, he watered the plants.”

“Oh, no,” Forlay murmured. 

Loren grinned.  “Oh, yes.  And as clever as he is, your son cannot comprehend that different plans get different amounts of water.  Considering the timing, it’ll be very funny.”

We were interrupted from further conversation by a banging noise that echoed through the house, and small cries.  The dogs started to bark loudly and rushed around us.  Calvin ran out of the room and up the stairs, while Hobbs jumped.

“Don’t worry,” Loren said, noticing our surprise even as she walked away.  “That’s just your grandson, telling us he’s done with his nap and he wants out now.”

We followed her, rather eagerly and a little worried about being lost, as she led us up the stairs and into a room.  Upon opening the door, we could understand the cries, changing into, “Mamamamamama ma! Up up!”

We hovered at the door, watching as Loren picked up the small human.  He babbled in a language my translator could not understand and he did not seem scared to see us.  Both of my sons had been shy things with our guests, when they hadn’t been barreling into them. 

“This is Sam,” Loren said broadly.  “Sam, these are your grandparents.  Say, hello.  Quiet, Calvin!”

I was sure whatever he did, which involved a lot of fluid coming from his mouth, was not a hello.  At least a proper one.  He did not even look at us, attempting to reach the creatures that were around Loren’s legs. We Andalites looked at each other.

“I do not believe I can understand him,” I finally said politely.

Loren smiled.  “Humans don’t talk properly until they’re older.  Unlike Andalite parents, we human parents have to be pretty damn psychic to figure out what they want.  Isn’t that right, Sammy?”

We must have been staring, aghast.  How were you to raise a child if you could not communicate with them?  To teach them?

“We humans are pretty crippled, I guess.  He actually learned how to walk these past few months.”

“He could not walk when he was born!” my wife gasped.  It was a death sentence to a newborn Andalite.

“Human newborns can’t walk.  About all they can do is sleep, eat, poop, and cry for the first few months.”

There was no response to that and we followed Loren back downstairs, watched as she set Sam – Sammy? – onto the ground with a few toys about.  The small dogs licked his face while the larger thumped his tail, and he giggled loudly.  “I’m going to get him something to eat.  If you could just watch him for a second.  The dogs are usually good with him, but you never know.”

What we never knew, we didn’t know, because she disappeared and we were left to stare at the small human, who smiled and stared back as the dogs settled around him.  And then, to our horror, stood wobbly up and went to us.  The small dogs got up and followed, and the other actually lifted his head.  We backed up and he followed until he gripped my legs.  “Up!”

I looked at my wife, terrified.  There had been no classes on how to lift small humans. I could not back up more, because of the small creature that was still chanting.

“Maybe you should try.”

“Thank you, my wife,” I said, not really pleased.  However, I bent slowly and, imitating Loren, picked the boy up from under his arms.  Part of me was impressed that I could.  Humans have wonderful upper body strength. 

Sam was now at my eye-level, held at arm length.  He kicked his legs and did not seem quite as happy as when Loren had done so.

“Now what?” I asked hopelessly.

He opened and closed his hands, obviously an action that meant something.

“I do not know.  They are very small, aren’t they?  And round.”

“Do you wish to hold him?”  I hoped so.

“No.”

Sam was still kicking his feet and his face was getting red, making strange noises.  Was that normal?

“So, he’s already got you to pick him up,” Loren chuckled, reappearing with an object in her hand.  It had liquid in it.  “He’s getting spoiled.  Here, come to Mommy.  There you go.”  He took the object from her, and the end went into his mouth.  “It’s called a bottle.  It’s for feeding babies, since they can’t eat solids well.”

She indicated that we take a seat, and, slowly, started to answer questions that we had, as if she could read our minds.  I was glad I had Andalite young instead of human.  The dogs also sat and then laid down, though only for a minute, as they started to fight until Loren scolded them, and then the white one attempted to fight the larger dog, and Loren was much harsher in sending the misbehaving creature away.

We’d had to demorph and took up Loren’s offer to eat.  We had not been out long when we heard a vehicle approach and stop at the front and the accompanying barking.  I could not think who it could be until I remembered Loren saying my son was to be home soon, and I rushed back to the house.

The door was open and I saw my son, standing there, laughing as he raised his son up and over his head and the three dogs were at his legs, the little ones barking loudly.  “Hello, my little Samuel, hello!  Did you miss me?”  My hearts jumped when the child was tossed slightly and caught.  “Gotcha!”

“Alan, we have guests.  And make those monsters be quiet!”

“Not Gafinilan, I hope.  Hush,” he said offhandedly, and both little creatures ceased making noise far more readily than when Loren had given the order, and he bent to scratch the taller dog’s head.  The other two whined and reared on their hind legs for more attention.

“No, not yet. There.”  She pointed towards me and my son turned.  He had not changed much and he smiled wider upon seeing me. 

“Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf, welcome!  I had not known you were coming to Earth.”

‹Aximili arranged it, as did Loren.›

“It was a surprise,” Loren explained when he looked at her curiously.  “And Noorlin’s not alone.  His wife is here as well.”

My son nodded and approached me.  “It is a pleasure to welcome you to our home. Both of you,” he said, moving his eyes, and I could see my wife had caught up.  “Come in, come in, and do not feel as if you must be human.”

“Dada!”

“I’m sure you’ve already met our little Samuel Alexander,” he continued, smiling at the small human.  Doting, and it pleased me that he was enamored with his little one.

‹The little one has so many names,› my wife complained quietly.  ‹I am confused.›

‹We were under the impression his name was Sam, or possibly Sammy,› I said, hoping to ease the issue.  Obviously it was the human trait of shortening names, and I do not know why they couldn’t call themselves what they were named.

“His name is Samuel Alexander Fangor, named for my father and brother.” We started and could see Loren signaling behind our son, indicating not to question.  Even though I was curious, I felt a swell of pride at the honor.  It was, after all, my right to have my son’s eldest named after my side.  “Sam and Sammy are merely shortenings or nicknames of his first name, and are forms most people feel comfortable calling a child.  Many human names can be shortened.  Some people shorten my name as well, to Al, instead of Alan.”

‹We understand.  Thank you.›

“Of course.  And it isn’t the first time I’ve had to explain it.  Trust me, there is not a question you can ask that I haven’t already fielded.”

“That almost sounds like a challenge,” Loren said.  “Go start making lunch.  We’re getting hungry.”

“Yes, Loren.  You both are welcome to dine with us.  Come on, little one, you can help.  Yes, yes.  You’re going to be a master chef, aren’t you?”

The thought of human food made me giddy.  Aximili had been correct about the affect of human food.  However, I controlled myself.  ‹He seems happy.›

“I’d like to think he is,” Loren said. 

 ****

After a delicious meal, we sat at the table comfortably, speaking of a range of topics.  My wife remained mostly silent, though Loren did coax her to hold small Samuel, and she seemed pleased enough to amuse the little one.

It lasted for quite a while until I heard a yell.  ‹ _WHAT DID YOU DO?_ ›

We all jumped, my wife and I terrified, and I thought my son looked so as well.  Loren looked amused, though, and Samuel clapped his hands and yelled, “Galal!”

“Do you suppose if I start running now, I’ll be safe?” my son said, sotto voce.

“Too late,” Loren said with a laugh, and I saw an Andalite rush up to the door and open it without a by your leave.  He was powerfully built, tall and strong, and he looked furious.

‹Did I or did I not give you _explicit_ instructions to _never_ enter, to _never touch_ my plants?› he roared over the sounds the dogs were making.  He ignored them as the two smaller ones rushed in front of him, while the larger one stayed on the floor between Loren’s and my son’s chairs, teeth bared.

My son cleared his throat.  “They looked like they needed watering.”

‹You’ve _drowned_ them!  Again!  I have never met anyone so hopeless at botanical arts as you!  And you let him!  Be _quiet_!› he roared to the dogs, and the little ones backed away, ran under my son’s chair, but the other one continued to make a low sound, though he dropped his head down and his teeth weren’t as prominently shown.

Loren looked affronted.  “I did not.  He was in there before I even woke up.  And, Gafinilan, we have guests.”

I was shocked that she did even say it, because he could have certainly seen us.  However, Gafinilan, after squinting, looked surprised and embarrassed.  ‹Oh.  I apologize.  That is … I was not aware.  There was no vehicle.  I would never have –›

“Don’t worry, Gafinilan.  These are Aximili’s parents, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf and Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen, in human morph, of course,” my son continued, then turned to us.  “You have to forgive Gafinilan.  He’s very protective of his gardens.”

‹I have _told_ you never to enter without me being present.  And, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen, I apologize for my outburst.  I was unaware, that is –›

I looked at my wife.  Both of us were appalled at this Andalite’s very poor behavior.  Obviously he had been on Earth far too long.  However, we would be the polite proper guests and not point it out, because that is how Andalite guests behave.

“Galalin!”

Gafinilan smiled.  ‹Hello, Samuel.  I see I did not scare you.›  The boy babbled and I was surprised to see that the Andalite apparently understood. ‹Yes, your father is very naughty.  You will have to see the damage he wrought.  You will be a proper botanist artist.›

“My son will apparently be a proper everything,” Loren said.  “Is everything decimated?”

‹It is salvageable.  Provided _he_ does not enter again.›

“Now, I arranged for all of those shipments,” my son started.

‹Fine, as long as he does not touch anything.  Hopefully you have not damaged them so they would are not presentable!›

Loren smiled.  “Is Mertil around?”

‹Oh, yes.  He is assessing the damages for me, if he is done laughing, I’m sure.  I sure he will come –› Gafinilan stopped and looked back at us.  ‹Actually, he will probably not join you today,› he said carefully.

Loren looked confused.  “But he always comes to watch _Veyoup_ with Sammy.  Why –”

My son interrupted, looking straight at us.  “Mertil is a _vecol_.  He has lost half his tail.”  His voice was cold and firm and he ignored our gasps of horror and disgust.  “He will continue to be welcomed in my home.  Should he choose to present himself, you will not bring shame here.  And you will not bring shame unto him.  If you cannot, you will remove yourself from his presence until he wishes to leave.”

My wife gasped.  “You would shun _us_ over a _vecol_?”

“You take away his right of solitude!”

‹Alan, you do not—›

“Tell Mertil he is welcomed any time he wishes,” my son said.  “I do not shun friends.”

Gafinilan shook his head.  ‹I will tell him, but do not be insulted if he does not attend today.›

“We won’t,” Loren said, and I saw she was glaring at my son.  “It’s _his_ choice.  And he shouldn’t be forced to do something that would make him uncomfortable.  Right, Alan?”

My son ignored her and her unspoken message.  There had to be a message.  The only time a wife uses that voice, verbal or thought-speak, is when there is one.  He just continued to look at us.  And there was something about the way his gaze was.  It took me the longest moment, but I noticed it. 

His eyes.  The human, too small, too pointy, too few eyes.  They were green.  The same shade as his had been.  Perhaps a shade off. 

“He will be welcomed,” my son repeated firmly.

“Yes,” my wife said, and I nodded.  We were guests, after all.

 ****

I did not stare at the _vecol_.  I ignored him.  He was lying on the floor with my son’s young sitting next to him.  Both were watching the television, the _Adventures of Veyoup_.  Three of the _vecol’s_ eyes were watching it, the fourth on the young, so he was ignoring us as well.

I suppose, _honestly_ , I wasn’t completely ignoring him.  I cast a few glances over.  And I was watching this episode.  I had not seen it yet.  I did not understand why it hadn’t been included in my kit my son had sent over.

During the commercial, I commented as much to my wife, who refused to let her offspring’s care be left alone on the tail – _not even_ – of a _vecol_.

‹There are new episodes, Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf,› the _vecol_ said humbly, timidly, gathering a toy Samuel had thrown.  ‹This is the third season, the third grouping of the adventures the humans have made.  The second season has only recently become available in the set, and the third is just starting.›

Then he apparently started to silently converse to Samuel, who had stood and was crawling upon his back, babbling in that language of his.  I did not understand why everyone else could comprehend it, but we could not. 

_Veyoup_ ’s adventures soon returned.  The _vecol_ quieted and settled Samuel down, by producing a bottle and giving it to the little one, so we call could watch it in silence.  I wondered why we Andalites had never thought to do this to our stories. 

Once the viewing was over and some other show follow was starting, the _vecol_ stood, bid us a silent farewell, and left, stepping over Samuel.  Before my wife and I could start conversing amongst ourselves, Samuel made a complaining sound, stood, and toddled after the _vecol_.

We followed, leaving the TV on, as neither of us knew how to turn it off. 

“…I can be mad at him as much as I want to,” we heard Loren say as we approached.  “He’s still an arrogant ass.”

‹And he will remain so,› the _vecol_ said, amused.  ‹I am not offended.  It is … pleasant to know how he stands in the presence of strangers.  Oh, hello, Samuel.›

“Up!  Pay!”

“I think I prefer it when he couldn’t move at all,” Loren said.  “Are you sure you got him?”

‹My upper body strength has been growing.  I believe I will take him to the greenhouse and save Alan from Gafinilan.  Allow Samuel to knock over a plant, distract him.  I’m sure Alan can still run fast enough.›

“I don’t know why he does it.  You’d think he’d learn.  Sometimes I swear he does it on purpose,” Loren said.  “No one can be _that_ hopeless around plants.”

‹These are mostly exotic Andalite flora, challenging to the competent botanist.  Of course, I agree.  No one should be _this_ hopeless.  And for all his meddling, none of the flora has been permanently harmed or killed.  Perhaps he is only having fun at Gafinilan’s expense.›

“Or he’s gotten lucky.  Make sure Sammy stays away from those bees, okay.”

‹Loren, _I_ stay away from the bees.  I can make no promises with the worms, though.›

“OMS!”

“No, those are ahckey!  And make sure those monsters don’t get into the compost again, all right?”

‹I will try, but they do not listen to me as well as Alan and Gafinilan.  Cats are far more sensible pets.›

We waited until his hoof steps faded before we joined Loren.  To my worry, the large dog was present, sunning himself in the sunlight, and he noticed our presence.  She was busy looking over some papers, and she looked up when she heard us.  “Nothing else on TV?”

“We do not mean to interrupt if you are busy.”

“Pfsh, this?  It’s just fun.  Newsletters, updates, invites, nothing especially important.  Alan deals with the finances and business, since he has to figure out how to balance who gets what with funding, least we show favoritism.”  Her eyes had gone wide, as if trying to convey a message, but I didn’t know what it could have been.  “Do you need something?”

“You do not need to trouble yourself.  Through perhaps,” I paused.  “May you explain Samuel’s name to us.”

“I can try, as much as I can.  Please, sit.”  We did so, and she moved the papers aside, taking a drink of a clear liquid before she started.  “Well, I suppose Alexander, Sam’s middle name, is easy to explain.  He knows he had a brother – there were pictures – and I think he could remember Ax, sort of in the back of his mind.  He’d ask about him in the pictures and, well, it’s almost like he almost remembered.”  She smiled sadly.

“Fraternity is a very strong bond,” my wife said quietly.  “Elfangor always remembered to ask after Aximili.  And he was so kind to him when he visited,” she continued wistfully.  “Many older brothers would not have been so, especially with Aximili so young.”

Loren nodded.  “Ax said stuff like that.  Anyway, as to the name Samuel, it does get a little hazy.  His records, the human ones, I mean, have always been marked as his father being named Norman Samuel and his mother, Maureen.  They’re not nearly as close as his human name is to his Andalite.  But, well, _Maheen_ is pretty close to _Maureen_ , and _Sirinial_ is sort of like _Samuel_.  And his human middle name is Samuel, as well, so it seems likely he was trying to match your names.  But we can’t know for sure.  He never said.  When Sam was born, Alan was insistent that he be named after his father.  Insistent for him, anyway.” 

She looked at me.  “I can’t tell you for certain, without any reasonable doubt, that he meant _you_ , but he did mean you.”

“I understand.”

She brightened.  “Oh, and he did name something after you, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen.  Before, when we were still fighting the Yeerks, his cover was that he worked for a company called _Forlay_.”

I could tell my wife was touched.  “Truly?”

“Yep.  In fact, because that company doesn’t _actually_ exist, but since it has a lot of illegally gained funds – which we’ve finally put a stop to, thank God for Mertil – it’s one of the largest backers behind the Andalite-human interrelationships.  And the Yeerk one,” she added as an afterthought.

Both of our faces twisted at the mention of Yeerks.  “I suppose that will do.”  My wife paused.  “Do many Andalites visit you?”

I was surprised at her attempt at conversation, as she usually had me ask her questions, though I was pleased my wife was trying.  Loren, if she was, did not look it.

“No.  Only a few beings know we _live_ here.  This is sort of our sanctuary from the supporters and the protestors of both worlds.  Mertil and Gafinilan were from the Dome ship Elfangor and Ax were stationed on.”

I was curious at how she called my son.  Loren had never called him anything but Alan as of yet.  It was a strange reason to change.  “So they fought with you.  I had not heard of them.”  Though I couldn’t imagine a _vecol_ fighting. 

“No, they didn’t fight.  We didn’t even know they were around until a year before everything was over, and only because Alan found them out.  Mertil couldn’t fight, because, well, his handicap.  And Gafinilan, he suffered from _Soola’s_ disease.”

My wife gasped.  “That is a terminal disease.”

Loren quickly said, “Oh, he’s cured now.”

“There is no cure!” I countered.

“There was an issue with an Arn, and I think they bullied him into getting rid of problem.”

There were still Arn in the universe?

“Anyway, the Arn could only do so much.  Gafinilan, well, he’s still tough, but he’s in constant pain.  But, the stoic Andalite he is, he never shows it.  And he’s practically blind.  It’s why he did see you when he first stormed in.  He literally _couldn’t_ see you.”  Her voice tapered off.  “I feel very sorry for him.”  Then she brightened a bit.  “But he’s got glasses now, so it’s a little better, when he wears them, and perhaps eye surgery will help.”

“So they were not much assistance in the fight?” I said quietly.

“They helped where they could.  And they assisted in the final battle, outside the ships.  But, well, you can see why they didn’t want the Andalite homeworld knowing about them.”

I suppose I could, we could.

“They only live a few miles away, and they visit quite often, sometimes even watch Sammy when we have to go back to the city.  Sammy loves them, if only because Mertil watches cartoons and plays with him, and Gafinilan lets him play in the dirt.  Aside from being unable to say no to the squirt, they’re not half-bad babysitters.”  She looked like she was to say more, but a ringing sound interrupted.  My wife and I looked around in surprise, and Loren explained, “It’s the phone.  Just a minute.”

She stood and went to the wall where a white object was mounted, removed a portion, and placed it to her ear.  “Hello?”

And then I remembered.  A _telephone_.  Though this one also didn’t look like anything of the images they had shown us in class.  (That class did not prepare one as much as it led one to believe!) 

“Tobias!  It’s good to hear you.  How’re your exams going?”  She listened to the receiver, and for a moment I could have thought she had been either myself or my wife when Aximili or Elfangor had had classes those years ago.  Except, of course, she was human and not using a video feed. 

“So you’ll be here Wednesday.  I wish you weren’t driving.  Oh, I trust your driving skills _fine_ , just not everyone else’s.  Yes, I know.  I know.  I’ll tell them.  Oh, Ax’s parents are here.  They came early.”  She smiled at us.  “Yes, I will.  And please don’t bring all of your clothes unwashed, again.  We do like to be able to use the washer for other things.  Yes, good-bye, sweetie.”

“That was your other son?” I asked.

She beamed.  “Yeah, Tobias, letting me know he’s one his way.  Driving, which I don’t want him to do, but kids, no helping them.  I practically killed your son when he gave him the truck.  At least it wasn’t the motorcycle, I tell myself.”

I didn’t understand much of what she had said.  “Children do make troublesome choices,” I said.

“So do mates,” Forlay agreed.

Even if it was at my expense, hearing my Forlay’s laughter, even as a human, was a pleasing sensation. 

 ****

I looked at the building with interest while I held the _Yanna_ plant.  Gafinilan – Henry, I had to call him now – was busy directing other humans and my son in the handling of his plants, sounding just like the Prince-warrior he had been.

“So what do you think about human institutions of higher learning?” my son asked, and I jumped.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I-I am fine.  Ine.”  My single human heart was pounding in my chest.

“At least you didn’t drop the _Yanna_ plant.  Henry would have killed us.  Come on, I’ll show you where we’re setting up.”  He started up the steps, heavily using the railing, and I awkwardly followed him up and through the maze until we reached a sun-lit atrium.  “Just put the plant anywhere, because wherever you put it, Henry will move it because it’s not the proper light, humidity, or height.”

I did so, and looked around.  There were tables with other humans around, each setting up something.  From my vantage point, I saw images of trees and valleys, of famous Andalites – such as my sons, I noticed with pride – of our ancient histories, even of our writing.  “What is this?”

“It is a symposium on Andalites.  Nothing very in depth here, but there will be some lectures from those who think they’re experts.  Henry agreed to give a presentation of flora, and woe to anyone who damages or disparages his plants.”

I wasn’t sure how I took all this.  Andalites were not something to study, not some lower lifeform, but humans should at least learn about us, to learn all we accomplished.

“Perhaps in a few years, we can do something like this for Yeerks, when everything isn’t quite so fresh,” he continued.  He must have noticed my unconscious human expression.  “The only way to work past the history is to understand each other.  But yes, it will take time.”

How could anyone willingly deal or forgiven Yeerks.  Humans were a strange species.

“Walk around, see how much Humans got wrong.  And if you like, we can sit in a few talks.”  He handed me a pamphlet.  “They’ll probably be as right as the ones Andalites have on Humans.”

That did not inspire confidence, but I was already growing amused when I noticed the _Adventures of Veyoup_ being turned on.  “May I stand up and correct everything that’s wrong?”

“Only if you never want to sit down again.”

 ****

 

—Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen—

 ****

It was difficult in this human world.  The worst might be that my son was forced to exist in it, when he should live with us, in our scoop.  It made my hearts break into small pieces, but I could not let myself act in a way that would harm my Elfangor’s equilibrium. 

I walked around the home.  My Noorlin had gone with Gafinilan and Elfangor to a plant showing.  From what I understood, there was some kind of Andalite culture awareness at a human school.  Gafinilan had volunteered his prized florals, and I have to admit, they were spectacular.  They put my own gardens to shame, and, knowing my son as I do, I am amazed the Andalite even lets my son breath the same air as his specimens.

On the walls were many pictures.  I didn’t know who they were of, except if they featured Loren, her eldest son, little Samuel, or my Elfangor.  I looked at the pictures that had my son in them.  I was examining one where he was with another human, young and darker-skinned, male.  They were both smiling.

With my stalk, I saw Loren appear.  My other stalk was focused on the small white dog who took to following me.  I didn’t like it, but I didn’t know how to make it stop without appearing rude.

“Alan likes that picture.  It’s of him and Ax.”

I blinked and looked at the picture with more intent.  ‹This is my Aximili?›

She smiled and came closer.  “Yeah.  I haven’t told him, but he knows it’s his brother.”

‹I don’t understand.  Of course it is.›

“I mean, he doesn’t think it’s Ax in his human form.  He thinks it’s his human brother.”

‹Oh.›  I didn’t know what to say.

“He thinks Alexander – that’s what he thinks his brother’s name is – died before he came to the States, with his parents in a car accident.  Some pictures … I don’t want to tell him it’s Ax, because he likes them so much.  Others, of course he knows it’s Ax in morph, but some ….” She shrugged and gave a strange smile. 

‹He does not wonder how Aximili could have acquired his deceased sibling?›

Loren smiled.  “If he does, he doesn’t say.  Then again, he doesn’t remember a lot about the rules of morphing.  I’m sorry about Calvin, by the way.  He’s an annoying pest.”

‹He is no trouble,› I lied. 

“I’ve got other pictures, if you’d like.  Some where they’re Andalites, when we were living in the Hork-Bajir valley.”

To see my son as an Andalite, again.  Of course I agreed, and Loren guided me to another room before withdrawing a book from a shelf.  The little white dog sat and stared at me.  The other was resting on a chair, a strange stick in its paws, and thankfully the larger one was in a different room.

Loren returned to me and showed me the book.  “There’s not that many, I’m afraid, and those there are aren’t that good.  I gave my cameras to Rachel’s sisters, to keep them entertained.  Actually, a lot of the pictures were the big thing, images in the trenches, that sort of thing.” 

She flipped through the pictures.  There were a lot where they were humans, but finally I saw the familiar shades of blue.  Loren showed them to me, smiling, and from out in the past I saw my son.  Poised, calm, serious.  Except in the images where he wasn’t.

And there were so many of them, and I took the book to flip through them at my leisure.  My hearts were pained to see his smile – like his father’s – and the familiar tilt of his stalks – a childish quirk he never really outgrew. 

It took me a while to realize Loren was still present, and I felt embarrassed at my ill-breeding.  I tried to find a topic of conversation, and I focused on a picture.  Elfangor was lying on his stomach with a strange contraction in his hands, eying it with a stalk.  The other was one the human, dark-haired, sitting against his side and grinning.  ‹Who is this?›

“That’s me, Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen,” Loren smiled. 

‹Oh.  I apologize.  Your hair is different,› I protested, trying to cover up my faux-pas.  Even if humans all looked the same, the mistake was terrible to make to a host.

“It’s all right.  I cut and dyed my hair to help the Yeerks not recognize me.  Elfangor never liked it, I think, but he was too polite to ever say it.   Some men like long hair, I guess.”

I didn’t understand, but I couldn’t ask.  Part of me wondered how my son, whatever his state, could have lowered himself to this creature, but it was not fair.  My son was happy – I had seen it with my own eyes – and that was all I wished.  (I did wish him home.)  ‹You were great friends, I see.›  I did not miss how he had a stalk on her, and I wondered about it, in the way mothers do when their sons keep stalks on females.

“I think so.  But then again, I think he’d have liked anyone who helped with the kids or was somewhere near his own age.”

I smiled in a polite manner but did not quite trust her words.  I would have said the same thing to Noolin’s mother, and we were at least the same species!  Had my Elfangor already been fond of this human, fond in such a way that hinted joining?  I wished I knew, could speak with him in person.  My son could never keep secrets from me.  I would have been able to get the truth without him speaking a word.  ‹How did you meet?›

“He crashed into me at a store.  Made a huge miss.  He was a clumsy oaf.”

If it wasn’t for the fondness I could hear in her voice, I would have been angered.  ‹Surely you exaggerate?›

She laughed.  “Only a little.  That one,” she said, pointing to a picture of both of my sons, surrounded by young Hork-Bajir, “they were telling stories to the Hork-Bajir and the rest of us.  They had us all laughing.”

‹Both of them have their father’s humor.›  Sometimes, it had been difficult being the only serious Andalite in the scoop.

“Do they?”  She made a strange noise.  “If you’d like any copies of the pictures, I’ll be happy to make them for you.”

‹I would like that.›

 ****

My son was asleep on the piece of furniture humans called a couch, his young son also asleep on his chest.  The dog called Hobbs was lying at the end aside his legs.  The other creature – the one I agreed with Loren when she called it a monster – was outside with the males.

I was careful to be quiet in my approach, but it wasn’t quiet enough.  Hobbs lifted his head and looked at me, but thankfully he did not make any noise, and Champ was not nearly as terrifying as he first as appeared, thumping his tail steadily.  All of the pets, I had learned, adored my son.  They were, as Loren said, his pets, even her dog, and he treated them with the same care he had to those pesky hoobers when he had been young.

His hold on his son, while I had my reservations, appeared secure.  My hearts warmed to see such care and adoration.  I always knew my eldest was doing to be a wonderful father, if perhaps too lenient.  Gently, cautiously I ran my hands across his cheeks in a gentle kiss.  I jumped a little when he moved, his lips quirked in the small human smile.

“It’s naptime, I see,” Loren whispered, and I jumped in surprise.  How she had come upon me, I didn’t know, and I was embarrassed.

‹Naptime?›

“Some people get a little cranky if they don’t get more sleep.  And it isn’t just Sammy.”

‹Really?›

“I tell him he should just sleep late, but not him,” Loren continued in her soft voice.  “He has to be up with the sun.  And sometimes, he needs a little siesta.”

I looked down at him.  ‹He was always active and refused to settle for rest.  He gets his stubbornness from my side.  Sometimes, when he was little, he’d just be standing there and then collapse in a full sleep.  And if the fall woke him, he’d be so surprised.›

“How adorable!”

Yes, it had been, and it had made my Noorlin and I laugh.  Aximili did it, but never to the amount Elfangor had done.  ‹More often though, he’d been so tired he never noticed.›

“We should let them sleep,” she whispered, and I agreed, though I turned my eye to watch him as we left.  “He never used to nap, before,” Loren commented.  “I thought it was because he was used to Andalite time, but maybe he just never grew out of it.”

I smiled.  ‹Perhaps.›

“It’s the medications, I think,” Loren commented.

‹Pardon?›

“That make him so tired.  For the pain.  The seizures.  Things like that.”

I felt terrible that I didn’t know such things about my son.  ‹Oh.›

“It’s not a very big deal and he won’t ever complain.  You know him.  Stoic and all.”

I could understand what she referred to about the pain, but I did not understand about the human term, seizures.  ‹What is a seizure?›

Loren bit her lip.  “I don’t know how to explain them, really.  He got them because of the accident.  They’re called absence seizures.  He just … zones out for a few seconds, doesn’t notice anything.  The doctors said it’s when the brain fires strangely, or something.  I don’t really understand it, but he takes the medications to stop them from coming on.”  She shrugged.  “He hasn’t had one in a long time and probably could stop taking them, but he still takes them.  He’s afraid of losing his driving license.  If he has one, he can’t drive for about three months, I think, and he won’t risk it.”

I understood the disorder she was trying to describe.  I also understood about my son’s efforts to avoid not being allowed to do something.  He was still such a child.  ‹Males.  Sometimes it was very difficult to live with their nonsense.›

“Tell me about it.  I’m completely out-numbered, surrounded by testosterone, with Alan, Sammy, Gafinilan, Mertil, and the dogs.  And when Tobias comes, I can only hope he brings a girlfriend.”

‹How old is your son?›

“Ax—Aximili’s age.”

‹Have you introduced him to any females, then?  You must do so, otherwise they will never join.  Sons are vexing like that.›

She giggled.  “I know.  Absolutely hopeless.”

‹It is why they must join, because a mother cannot care for her son by herself.  Fathers are useless in the assistance, I must warn you.›

“I think I’m beginning to notice that,” she sighed.  “Alan just … I swear, you can’t trust them together.  You send them out for groceries, they’ll come back with TV dinners, donuts, and chocolate and call it a job well done.  Alan used to be responsible.”

‹They never grow up, males.  Always too concerned with their tale blades rather than getting their sense.›

“It’s the same on Earth.  I guess men are the same everywhere.  That’s … actually very depressing.”  Loren laughed.

I agreed.  ‹Aside from those concerns, he is healthy, though?›

“He’ll out-live me, I think.  Really.  Because he was trapped, his body is at the peak of perfection.  No artery buildup, no stress, perfect teeth.  Me?  I’m falling apart, especially chasing after Sammy and those dogs.”

‹I know the feeling.›

Loren smiled.  “Sometimes, I feel him.  Like I did when he was an Andalite.  Not often, only when he’s really emotional.  Not that you can always tell when Alan’s being emotional.”

I looked at her in surprise.  ‹Do you mean –›

“It confused me, at first, until I remembered our real bodies are somewhere out in Z-space.  He once said the only reason there’s a two hour limit was because there wasn’t enough power to draw it back from its dispersal.  So he’s still floating around, somewhere.”  She gave a smile. 

I didn’t like to think that, but it made me wonder if maybe _I_ would feel his emotions.

“It was like a wave in the hospital, when he first held Sammy.  And I think that’s why the dogs listen to him so well; they can feel it better.  Doesn’t really seem fair.”

‹No.  No, it doesn’t,› I admitted.

 ****

 

—Tobias—

~8 years later

 ****

Watching my little brother’s team jump and cheer at their win, I cheered just as loudly as Georgie next to me, though I hoped she wouldn’t get so excited she’d end up in labor.  However, I knew better than to make that comment out loud.

From my vantage point, I could see Alan congratulating the team, limping around in his coach’s uniform.  It was a complete shock to me that he had any sense of soccer, but Ax said it was obvious his brother would like the sport.  There was one very similar on the Andalite homeworld. 

“Come on, there’s going to be ice cream, I know it,” Georgie said, attempting to push herself up.

I leapt up and helped her, and then guided her down the stands.  On the grass, I saw Mom already pulling out a water cooler, while Alan and Leo both spoke to the team.  Man, was that a messed up coaching team.  Leo, who already looked the part of a deranged psycho with his eye patch and scarring, pressed for victory, and Alan insisted on fun … and winning.  It was no wonder Sam’s team was top of the league with those nuts.

“Ice cream, ice cream,” Georgie chanted, waddling faster.  (I would never say she waddled to her face.)

We made it to the team and feasted on the treats with the other family members, and I helped Mom hand out everything.  Without trying to appear so, I checked her over, to see if there was any change since the surgery.

“Don’t hover over your mother,” she said without looking.

“How’d you know?”

“I’m your mom, I know everything.  I’m fine.  The doctors say the cancer’s gone.”

“That’s good.”  Intellectually, I knew this, but it still didn’t hurt to hear it a few more times.  “Did you get my notes?”

“I forwarded them to El.  She thinks it’s a great idea, already talking with the lawyers and everything.  How that woman gets the energy, I’ll never know.”

“This is a big step, using Yeerks like that.  Bigger than her Symbiot movement,” I warned.  I couldn’t see the government approving it.  “She should just focus on that.  This is just going to give Yeerks a bad name, associating with criminals.”

“El wants to prove Yeerks are useful, not as some parasite,” Mom reminded.  “It’s great people will be hosts, but right now, no one can see them as anything but using humans.  She wants them to have _jobs_ , separate from the hosts.”

I shook my head at the lofty goals, but understood where El came from.  And she’d fight for it like an Andalite would for a Cinnabun. 

“I’m glad you made it.  Sam’s glad.  He said he scored that goal for you.”

“And everyone else in the known universe, I’m sure,” I laughed, but I did enjoy the sentiment.  Sam always proclaimed each of his accomplishments were done for _someone_.  Once I asked him if he ever did anything for himself.  He looked at me with the annoyed look that so _way_ too much like his father for a then eight-year-old and said, “I do _everything_ for me, Toby.”  Later, Alan explained that Sam was dedicating things to everyone, like an author does with books.

“How’s Georgie?  Ready to explode?”

“Yes, she is,” I smiled, watching my wife devour the ice cream cone. 

“Know how that felt.  Go on, go by her, just in case her water breaks.”

“Don’t joke about that,” I glared as my stomach flipped with worry and excitement.

She grinned evilly and pushed me away, ice cream in hand.

 ****

“How are you doing?” a quiet voice whispered, and my eyes snapped open with see kind green eyes.

“What time is it?” I stretched.

“Almost four.  Don’t worry, she’s still asleep,” Alan smiled as my head twisted to find my wife in her bed.  “Come on.”  He pulled me up.

“Why are you still here?” I asked, following him while I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

“Because you’re still here,” he said before stopping and turning me to look into the glass.

Almost instantly my eyes fell onto _my daughter_ and I stopped thinking.

“She’s beautiful.”

I nodded, staring at the small pink bundle, and leaned heavily against the glass.

“Tomorrow they’ll move her into the room,” he said.  “She’s just here overnight for observation.  You might even go home tomorrow.  Do you have everything set up?”

A laugh bubbled up.  “For weeks.”

“You’ll be surprised when you realized how much you are still missing,” he answered.  “If you need help, your mother and I will be there.”

“Good.”

“You’re supposed to say, we’ll be fine,” he said reproachfully, and I turned to see him smiling despite the tone.  “How you thought of a name yet?”

“Not yet.  We thought maybe Megan, Megan Loren, after both our moms.”

“A good choice.  Your mother might complain about the order, but she’ll like it, and she won’t be constantly turning her head when someone calls for her granddaughter.”

“Yours, too,” I corrected quietly.

He nodded without hesitation, smiling to look back at my daughter.  “Yes.”

“I have to call Ax,” I said suddenly.  I wondered if Andalites could be godfathers, once I explained the concept to Ax.

“Go ahead, I’ll stay.  Get a change of clothes for everyone.  And a shower.”

“I don’t even know if –”

“He’s awake,” Alan interrupted.  “Trust me.  Go.  Your mother already has plenty of pictures to send him, and he will get more, I’m sure.  And bring Georgia something back, a rose maybe.  She did a good job.  You both did.”

I felt my eyes tear up stupidly and without thinking, I hugged him tightly.  He accepted it, even hugged back.  “I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered.

“Where else would I be?”

There were so many answers to that.  “You keep an eye on them, Dad,” I ordered as I pulled back.

He smiled at the term, a faint little thing.  “Always, my boy.  Now go.  You want to get back before Georgia wakes up.”  He turned back to look back at the sleeping angel before giving me a push and laughing.  “Go.  We’ll be here when you come back.  Maybe I’ll even get the nurses to let me hold her in the room.”

I made it down the hall before I looked back.  He was already staring back in the nursery, standing not like a guardian or protector, but a proud grandfather.  To my daughter.  My daughter.  Giddily, I grinned in the elevator and fell against the wall, unable to stop laughing.

I was a dad. 

Eighteen ears ago, I didn’t have anything resembling a family, not a real one.  And now, now I had a daughter, a wife, an uncle and best friend, a mom, and a dad.  And the funny thing was, it was all thanks to the Yeerks.

My life was still beyond weird.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version is the most complete. That is, what I wanted to say made it into the story. I really wanted Forlay to grieve for Elfangor, because we never saw that from an Andalite's perspective. 
> 
> As to telling Alan the truth, I think it's probably pretty clear to him after a few years there's something different about him compared to other people, and he's not stupid by any means. (Because there's too many coincidences and too many holes, anyone could figure it out. The truth is only really hidden because there are some things people can respect – be it war heroes, a wounded veteran, denial, honor, money, the risk of pissing off an armed species, or the possibility of facing several dangerous predators in the dead of night should they make their friend suffer.) If they told him right away, it would have been bad, because it meant he had something grand he should remember but couldn't, some life he literally couldn't return to. But if they told him the truth those few years later, like when Sammy was five or so, I don't think he'd be very upset or shocked, even at them keeping it secret, because that was another life and he has his own now.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Version #3: Andalites are Catching

Epilogue Version #3

 ****

—Marco—

 ****

We were all a little nervous.  I mean, it was obvious.  We all expected Elfangor to be around when we got to this point.  Sort of magically appear, like he usually did, even though he had gone with the Hork-Bajir and others to deal with Yeerk threats there.  But he didn’t.  We were just a bunch of dumb kids.

Toby had come to report that, as we expected – hoped – the Yeerks still alive would rather become _nothlits_ than be killed.  But she didn’t know where Elfangor was.  They had split up.  Ax said he went down to the weapons, but he was bound to come up to the bridge.

We had followed the plan, more or less.  Our plan got spectacularly _screwed_ when the Andalites decided, _hey, I think now we should show up, just to mess the Animorphs up_.  Instead of a very nice, friendly-dangerous plan to take the two Yeerk ships, it all went tits up.  Visser One ignored our diversion – which, okay, probably meant a lot more people lived – and headed into space.  I don’t know what Mom and everyone else on the Blade ship was going through, but we all knew we had to work _fast_.  If the Andalites got the Yeerks to deal, we were screwed over no matter what we told the people.  So we hit them hard and fast, while half of our team probably had no idea what was going on, since we messed with communications.  Ax had certainly been shocked when we told him about this latest development.

Andalite fighters were messing with us and the Yeerk fighters, which helped get rid of a lot of the bad guys.  It made it slightly easier.  By the time we all got on the bridge and subdued Visser One, which was pretty easy as he was still screaming at my mom’s image, and Ax very quickly forced contact with the Dome ship and his homeworld and demurely asked that they please stop trying to kill us, we’ve already got the ships, thank you very much, too late you can’t screw Earth over now, can you, hahahaha.

Well, Ax didn’t say that, but he should have.  Instead, he was his polite self under literal fire when the Andalite on the screen demanded to know who we were.  Since Ax wasn’t sure, I stepped in.  “This ship is under the control of the Earth Liberation Army.”  Something stupidly grandiose for us.  Elfangor would have rolled his stalks and muttered, <Children.>

Between Mom on one side and Ax on the other, the Andalites weren’t looking too willing to agree.  It wasn’t until Alloran, newly freed, stepped in and suggested a great course of action to prove we were not a Yeerk trap.  Mom agreed just as readily, and I think the faces of two of the worst Vissers in the Yeerk empire had some weight.

Still, Elfangor appearing at any time would be good.

At that time, Captain-Prince Asculan-Semitur-Langor – of the Dome Ship _Elfangor_ , and was Elfangor going to be shocked at that whenever he decided to get his big tail up here – and was totally going to ruin everything, since he didn’t believe or want to believe a bunch of human kids did what half the Andalite fleet couldn’t.  Self-preservation kicked in and my mouth opened. 

“Hey, Ax-man, is it true the Andalite homeworld is watching all this? Can I wave to them?   Hi, everyone!  Howard Stern rules!  Yaaah!” While I grinned and waved, everyone else sort of froze. I thought my mom wanted to leap through the screen and kill me herself, while Ax just wanted to pass out.  I wondered what Elfangor would have done.  Probably do his narrowed stalk-eye glare at me.  But it worked.  Everyone understood, and those who didn’t understood when it got explained to them in simple little words.

Yeah, we called your house and told your mommy what was going on.  If you’re nice, we won’t tell her your smoking weed and watching pay-per-view porn.  Thanks to Elfangor’s _very expressed_ orders, you were totally caught and you better play ball otherwise you were so going to get grounded.

Part of me wondered distantly what was going to happen to Elfangor for ordering that.  We all knew what he was doing when he gave the order he really hadn’t had to give, because we weren’t complete idiots.  When he said it in that tone, it was easy.  Taking the blame, shielding Ax and us from anything that would happen.  Ax had looked troubled but promised.  By his face, we all knew Elfangor was going to get into _big_ trouble.  Like prison and chopping-off-his tail trouble.  We had all gave each other a look and agreed – somehow, we’d make sure Elfangor didn’t get the shaft. 

That didn’t mean we didn’t want him to face the firing squad with us, though.  Any time, Elfangor, any time.

Jake stepped in, a friendly face with no nasty Yeerk ties as far as the Andalites were aware of.  He was a good diplomat.  Said how we were pleased that the Andalites were devoted to stopping the Yeerks, how they did so much to help us – two of them – and how we were so happy to share credit, and you are so not going to blow up our planet with your people watching, and definitely not on a Dome ship named _Elfangor_ when the real Elfangor did all the work. 

So there.

When Asculan asked who Jake was, I opened my mouth.  “This is Jake.  Jake Berenson.  President of Earth.”

<Really?  I must have missed the primaries.>

We all turned, shocked at the voice.  Elfangor, finally.  And he looked like crap.  But a good crap.  Elfangor always knew how to stand and walk, and he walked towards the screen.  I could only hope to look half as good.  Rachel could probably pull it off.

His fur was matted with red blood, and it dripped when he walked.  He didn’t actually look _hurt_ , but then again, Elfangor never did.  There were burns on his arms and shoulders, and he might have been favoring his back right leg.  And his blade, poised high and ready … well, it had _definitely_ been used. 

Any other battle, we would have run to him, happy he was alive, but we all sort of realized we couldn’t do that now.  But we were all smiling, especially Loren.

He was making an _impression_ , and I wondered if he even realized it.  Elfangor understood appearances, but he could be remarkably dense on how others saw him.  I bet he was only standing like a good Andalite warrior, but the fact was he _was standing like a good Andalite warrior covered in blood_.  He was doing the slow walk, the walk of the good guy into the saloon, but Elfangor always walked like that.  I’ll never admit it to anyone, but sometimes I tried to act like him, but Elfangor had no sense of humor and I did, so it was impossible.  It could make someone insanely jealous.  Elfangor was the ultimate cool guy, and he wasn’t a jerk about it.  No wonder everyone loved him. 

Well, except the Andalite on the screen. 

<Prince Elfangor.>  There was a definite cold sneering tone.

<War-Prince Asculan,> he said formally, and then he looked at Alloran for a long moment, before saying with far more deference and a bow, <War-Prince Alloran.  It is a pleasure to see you freed at last.>

I wondered how he knew, but then realized, of course.  If he was still Visser One, there is no way we would have been so calm around him. 

Alloran didn’t respond right away, but he finally replied.  <Thank you, War-Prince Elfangor.  It is good to be free again.>

Elfangor nodded and then looked at the screen.  <We shall await your arrival, War-Prince Asculan, and prepare to discuss the cessation of this war.>

Asculan sneered.  <Earth may be freed, Prince Elfangor, but the war still goes on.>

<But it does not have to.  The Andalite people have the opportunity to offer at least a hope to a swifter end.  One without death.>

Asculan didn’t believe it.  Neither did Alloran.  Both were looking at Elfangor like he was crazy.  Everyone probably was.  But he had to say it now, when the Andalite civilians were watching.  I saw him look at Jake and Jake subtly nod. 

<And what way is that?>

<We finish what Prince Seerow started.>

The result was instantaneous.  I was glad Asculan was on the other side of the view screen.  Alloran was looking at him in shock and betrayal.

Elfangor stood poised while the insults washed over him.  <Perhaps I am mad,> he agreed.  <But we have held a way to end this war since it started.  Since before it started.  We’ve been blind to its full potential.  We’ve let one mistake – a tragic mistake, to be sure – dictate our actions these many years.  It is time for Andalites to stop hiding.>

<And what do you propose we do, Great Elfangor?>

He didn’t even flinch.  <We give the Yeerks, the Taxxons, and any other species that desires it the ability to morph.  We offer them a different life.>

<Impossible!  The Law –>

<The Law is out-dated!  Made out of a moment of pure fear and panic and should never have been created as it was!> Elfangor continued ruthlessly.  <The law bans the giving Andalite technology to inferior species.  To what definition is _inferior_ applied to but any creature that is not Andalite.  Aren’t we a proud race? > he spat, <And how we have paid for our pride.

<The morphing technology is little use to Yeerks or Taxxons.  There are rebel Taxxons on Earth who desire it to be freed from their unending hunger.  There are Yeerks who desire to do without their Kandrona rays and parasitic nature.  We have the ability to give them this chance, as a people.  Not all will accept, but perhaps enough.  And this … this is worth it.  If it makes it so there is one less enemy an Andalite warrior must fight, I say we do it.>

<Give the yeerks the ability to morph, we would be even a worse position,> Asculan snapped.

Elfangor gave a small smile.  <While it is true that if we want peace, we must prepare for war, it is also true that if we want war, we will most assuredly get it.  If I must continue to prepare for war, I prefer it to be for peace and that the war may never come, not for a war that will never end.>

Sometimes, I wondered if he practiced these speeches, wrote them up and delivered them in front of a mirror. 

Communications ended so and Elfangor slumped, exhausted while we headed for the rendezvous point.  He seemed sort of lost for a moment, before he asked us about the ground force, listened dimly as Mom talked about the Blade ship, reported what she had seen, who we had lost.  I looked at Jake as he took in the news, how it shattered him for a moment, but he pulled it together.  Next to him, Loren touched Elfangor’s arm, but he ignored her while he listened and catalogued. 

I’d never tell Tobias this, but if I had a woman like Loren touch my arm, I wouldn’t be ignoring it. 

“Look, Elfangor, you can’t go falling apart on us, now,” I said.

He looked at me and gave a small smile.  <Marco, falling apart is the last thing on my mind.>

<They won’t do it,> Alloran said.  <You know they won’t.>

Elfangor turned and looked at him.  <They will.  Because the People know about the option.  Millions of parents worried about their children.  They want this war to end.  It will be slow, yes, but in the end, it will happen.>

“And because he said it,” Loren added.

Alloran gave a derisive snort.  <Ah, yes, because Prince Elfangor has supported it.  I had not remembered that.>

<You do not think it will work.>

<I think you are still a young, naïve fool,> he snapped.  <But … but it may work.  Not all of the Yeerks will join.>

<I do not expect them.  But enough.  And the Taxxons … they will wish it.  Arbron and his followers will get the ability.>

Alloran’s eyes were wide.  <Arbron?  He is still alive?>  Elfangor smiled and nodded, and Alloran snorted.  <We are merely one human and a white orb short of where we started.>

<Terrible, isn’t it?>

The other Andalite looked at his tail and twitched it.  <No.  No, it is not.>

“So this is it?  We won?” Cassie asked from the other end of the view screen, crying.

“Of course we did,” Rachel said.  Despite her bravado, I could see the great Xena was trying not to cry.  Tom was her cousin.

“Kicked their butts,” I added.

Elfangor shook his head at us and he probably muttered, <Children,> to himself, but Loren smiled. 

<Prince Asculan will want to board once we prove to him we are being honest,> Aximili informed.

Elfangor gave a small huff.  I recognized it, as he usually gave it to me.  <That won’t be pleasant.  Asculan is known to be a … a prickly pear.>

“Elfangor, we’re not five.  You can swear around us,” I said.  “You can say he is a complete –”

“Marco, shut up,” Jake said gruffly.

<He has always been difficult,> Elfangor commented dryly.  <But he got worse once he had a ship named after him.  Quite frankly, Andalites who get ships named after them should be shot.  It would save all of their compatriots a lot of grief.>

It took me and the rest of us a moment to realize he didn’t know the statement applied to him, and we laughed.  “So do you have any last words?” I asked cheekily. 

He eyeballed me.

<Prince Asculan is captain of the ship _Elfangor_ , brother,> Ax said, amused but still deferential.

Elfangor raised his stalks in surprise and his face blanched.  Still, he recovered quickly.  <I still stand by my statement.>

“We’ll set it for noon, because who wants to get up at dawn,” I said.

“Not you,” Jake said.

“Perhaps it’s named after another Elfangor,” Loren said mischievously.  “It is a very common name, after all.”  For a moment, Elfangor looked perturbed at her, and we grinned at each other with the same thought.  We all knew he had his pride, and while he didn’t care if he got a ship named after him, Elfangor wouldn’t even think of letting someone else get his kudos.  It was a funny twist, but that was basically Andalites.  They were never really humble, and Elfangor was no exception.

“I bet _now_ it is,” I said.

 ****

—Loren—

“So this is good-bye?” I smiled, trying not to cry.

<Yes, I fear so,> he said.  <I have already said good-bye to the children.>

“So this is your planet?  It’s beautiful,” I said, waving around the Dome part. 

<I’m glad you believe so.>  His main eyes looked around awkwardly, but his stalks never left me.  <Loren, I am sorry.  I should never—>

“No, don’t apologize.  Never apologize.  Not for anything.”

He looked at me, pained.  <I do wish things could have been different,> he whispered.

“And I thought Romeo and Juliet had the star-crossed love,” I joked, touching his face.  He covered my hand with his and closed his main eyes for a second, and a stroked my thumb against his skin.

<At least we are alive,> he said, pulling down my hand to hold it between his weak ones.

At least they were together, I thought but didn’t say.  “What’s going to happen to you?”

<I will face an inquiry, have to face the High Command.  Because we won, at least I will still have my tail, but ….> He sighed and trailed off.

“What?”

<It is nothing.  I will be fine.  I will retire and return home.>

“Could we write or call each other?” I asked hopefully.

<No.>  He brushed my cheek.  <Maybe someday, but not now.  In a few years, perhaps.>

“A few years,” I repeated, swallowing.  “I’ll miss you.”

<As will I.  Everything I have is yours, Loren.>

I jumped up and hugged him tightly and felt his arms wrapped around me.  I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how much I wanted him to stay or that I wanted to go with him, I didn’t care if we were different species.  But the words stuck in my throat, because I knew he wanted to say the same things.  We couldn’t.  We were Rick and Ilsa at the airport.  Had to get on the plane otherwise I’d regret. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of my life.  Except today and tomorrow I knew I’d regret leaving.  And part of me thought I’d regret it the rest of my life, damn the movie lines and clichés. 

Why did I have to love this man – Andalite, who cared about a petty thing like a noun – so much?  I sniffed into his neck and tried to commit the smell to memory.

<I have something for you, in my room.  Under the dresser,> he whispered.  <Think of me?>

“Even when I had amnesia, I never forgot you, Elfangor,” I whispered kissing his cheek and then where his mouth would have been if he had been human.   “I could never forget you.”

<And I you.  Take care of the children.>

“I always have.  God knows you didn’t.”

His eyes smiled.  <I’ll walk you to your ship,> he said, and he wiped my face.  <You should not cry.  We won.  Earth is saved.>

“I think that’s why I’m crying.”

 ****

When Elfangor said he left me everything, he really meant it.  The house and money, and because he wrote it in his will, I gave the kids their share, even Paul and Emily.  What was I going to do with all that money anyway?  I was content to stay in my house and let the kids shine.

Under his dresser, I found a file that contained all the written Andalite fairy tales Elfangor had promised me.  I don’t think I really believed him when he said it was 500 pages long – and he lied, because it was a lot longer than that – and scrolling through the pages on the screen, I couldn’t help by cry at a few of his footnotes, laugh at them as he offered descriptions of animals and places, or just explained some strange Andalite custom.  In a few parts, he had even somehow inserted a few bits of Andalite text in his native writing or attempted to draw something to explain in the story, the trees or animals or a map.

I took the file to get made into a set of books, because if I had printed it up myself, I would have had loose papers everywhere or a fat binder that would be impossible to carry around.  I liked how my cute little volumes came out.  They weren’t professionally done, not with real covers, but I had stuck some of his more amusing pictures on there, under the volume number, and what he _claimed_ translated into fairy tales.

It hit me as a huge shock when direct copies had started appearing in everyone’s hands and there was a huge investigation and lawsuit.  Shocked and angered beyond words, I couldn’t believe someone could do that, go into my personal things and just … sell them like they were nothing.  It didn’t cheapen what Elfangor had done for me, but it did cast a bit of a dirt on it.  I desperately hoped this wouldn’t get Elfangor in any more trouble.

It wasn’t until about fifteen months after everything that Tobias came home with a strange little contraction and showed to me.  I blinked at it.

“What is it?” I asked, afraid to even touch the shiny bit of technology.

“Our own little phone off world.  Ax sent it to us.  Pulled a lot of strings, it sounds like.”  He grinned. 

“What?  You mean we can … with this?”

Tobias nodded.  “He already programmed how to reach him and how to reach his parents’ scoop.  Elfangor’s there.  Speed dial one and two, I guess.”

I stared at the machine hungrily.  “How did we get this?  This is … Lordie.”

“I know.  I tested it out by calling Ax. Really freaky.  Sort of holographic.  He’s doing really well, he might even get to be a Captain soon, which is big news.  The Andalites are really shrinking their military now, he said.”

“Did he say how Elfangor’s doing?”

Tobias paused.  “He’s all right, but I guess the way Ax made it sound, he really got grilled by the Andalite government.  Ax said they put a bunch of restrictions on him as an unofficial reprimand.  He’s stuck on the homeworld and can’t talk to anyone about anything.  They got him by the balls.  Erm, figuratively.”

“Guess it’d be by the tail.  But he’s doing all right, otherwise?”

He shrugged.  “Ax thinks he’s hasn’t … had many reasons for positive emotions lately.  And he says that if we’re going to call him, we have to call at ….” Tobias stopped to dig into his pocket and he pulled out a scrap of paper. “At 3:52 AM tomorrow night.”

“Why then?” I asked, curious.

“Ax wouldn’t say.  It’s probably when Elfangor is around to answer.”

“How do you work this thing?”  I could barely work the TV and DVD player, and Ax thought I could use this safely.  I felt like if I pushed the wrong button, it’d end up in orbit and I’d have to call for roofers.

I watched as Tobias showed me what to push and was relieved when he promised he help me make the call.

 ****

“Is it supposed to take this long?” I asked, staring at the screen.  It was making a quiet humming noise, but otherwise nothing had changed over the past few minutes.

“Well, Ax answered fast.  But he was probably expecting me to call,” Tobias said, shifting uneasily.  “I know I did everything right.”

We sat staring, but each second made our disappointment grow.  I was just about to suggest hanging up when the blank image finally changed.  It was like a fog rising, and then it solidified, and then I heard him.  <War-Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul answering.>

“It’s about time!” I scolded, because if I didn’t talk, I might have cried.  “Do you let your phone ring for minutes on end?”

The picture was clearer now, and his stalks whipped forward.  <Loren?>

“And me.  Hi, Elfangor!”

<Tobias?>  He looked between us, confused.  <I … I don’t understand, how?>

While Tobias gladly retold the story, I looked at the image of the Andalite.  While his main eyes were on Tobias, his stalk eyes were definitely on me.  He looked tired, thinner, not nearly as vibrant as when I last saw him.  Then again, his head was now only five inches tall, but I still felt concerned from what I was seeing.  Was there more tan in the blue now?

He smiled at the end of it.  <So this must be what Aximili talked about.  He promised me a gift for my birthday.>

“It’s your birthday?” I repeated.

“Happy birthday!  How old are you?” Tobias asked.

<I am 13 Andalite years old today.  Approximately 40 human years.>

“Ax would give us down to the day.”

<My brother has too much time on his tail,> Elfangor replied.

“Happy 13th birthday, Elfangor,” I said.

<Thank you, Loren.  How have you been?>

“Okay.  Things have been pretty good.  How about for you?”

<There is nothing that should be complained about.  How are the other children?  Are they well.>

We sat talking about the kids, about all the gossip and everything else that came over our brains.  It wasn’t until that was done that Tobias looked at me, smiling, before saying good-bye and letting us talk in private.  We stared at each other for a long moment.

“How are you, really?” I asked. 

<There is nothing to be concerned about,> he said.

“Elfangor, please.  No offense, but you look like crap.  I think you’re tanning.”

<There is nothing I can speak of,> he said, looking up for a moment before looking away and then back at me.

God, I wanted to give him a hug and never let go.  Those bastards, making him never talk about what he was going through.  “I understand,” I said.  “I’ve missed you.  We’ve all missed you.”

<I have missed you as well.>  He paused, and then asked, <Did you ever find …>

I laughed and suddenly told him everything about the books, and then about the reporters and the hassles, and then how everything was being rebuilt, and he told me about his parents and being home again, about how the cities have changed, about how much the Andalites erred about human things. 

We ended up talking for hours.

“Can I call you again?” I asked, when we finally ran out of topics.

<I would like that.  I would like that very much, Loren.>

“Me too.”

 ****

We talked at least once every other week, but usually weekly.  He never said much about his life, not at first, but over the years he started getting a little freer.  He beamed when Tobias went into college, just as I grinned when Ax got made Captain of his own ship, the _Intrepid_.  He had gone to the ceremony (I never asked, if he had to ask for permission, if it could have been denied,) and explained in great detail about everything.  There was so much pride between the two of us as we poured over pictures and impressions, and secretly I was glad I had Elfangor to talk to.  This big old house and Champ really wouldn’t have done it for my sanity.

Together we mourned over the death of Rachel, a senseless tragedy that the tabloids exploited.  He wished he could have come to the funeral, but personally I thought Naomi was glad he was off the planet.  Her version of the war and Elfangor’s part was decidedly contrary to what everyone said, but it made for great print.  Secretly, I was relieved I would have no reason to meet with her, because one of these days I was going to snap.

Around the same time, Elfangor had gotten transferred to a new position in the Andalite civilian work network, which did him well, though he’d never admit it.  After that, he was far more able to talk about what he did with enthusiasm, and I said it was only because he now had an excuse to read crappy Earth books to translate or correct other Andalites about what they got wrong in their papers on humans.  Sometimes I read the same book he was working on and we talked about the characters, and he’d make a comment that sometimes it was very difficult to make decent translations into the written Andalite language.  And when Andalites started getting interested in _cook_ books, Elfangor might have fell into his perfect profession.

He did slightly disapprove of how I spent my time, but I think that was because he still didn’t trust the _nothlit_ Leo.  Even though he tried to sound gracious and said my work was doing good for everyone, there was always the hint of petulance.

Even if we were light years apart, he was always there.  He cheered with each achievement the children managed, subtly teased and congratulated Tobias about meeting and marrying Georgia, mourned when Champ died.  And I was always there for him.  Sometimes I ended up talking with his parents.  At first, they hadn’t been very open with me, especially his mother, but eventually Noorlin would regale me with great exploits of his own life and Forlay talked with me about gardening.  I don’t know if she knew the truth about Elfangor and me, but Elfangor reported with _great_ pleasure and glee that she had turned her match-making schemes to Ax and left him alone.

The years flashed by, as they always do, but my world only stopped a year after Tobias got married and the doctor told me the news.

Cancer.

I listened numbly to the prognosis.  It was early, it was curable, I would survive this.  It probably wasn’t a side effect of the morphing technology, but maybe the technology could help.  Instead of slashing and burning, it could greatly speed my healing since I could morph afterwards.  I might not even have to go through chemo, which could be a good thing, because they didn’t know how the morphing technology would react to it.

My first instinct was to call Elfangor, but I stopped myself.  What could he do, except worry and panic and think worse-case scenarios?  Or worse, violate his orders and rush here, for this silly, curable thing?  No, I wouldn’t worry him with this.

 ****

—Tobias—

 ****

“Did you tell Elfangor?”

Mom laughed quietly and pulled off her glasses.  “No.  There’s no need to worry him.”

“Mom, he’d want to know.  You can’t keep this from him.  And it’s not like he’s not going to notice something’s wrong.”

“It’s going to be fine.  They might even try to Andalite witch-doctor cures on me,” she joked, but I could tell I struck of nerve.

“Mom, you have to.”

“I’ll tell him when it’s over.  Better to beg forgiveness, that sort of thing.”

I gapped.  “Mom, do you even remember what Elfangor got like when he was totally freaked out, do you remember what it was like when he yelled?  I don’t care if he’s going to be over the transmitter, the entire planet will hear him.”

“He’s not that bad.  Only the city.  Don’t tell him, Tobias.”

I sighed and slumped in my seat.  “Fine, I won’t.”  It wasn’t my place to give it.  I wasn’t even sure if I could tell Ax, because Ax had no scruples and would tell his brother like a shot.  “So what’s going to happen?”

“There will be some tests and things.  I wrote it all down.  Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Is it bad?”

“It would have been better if it got caught a bit earlier, but it’s not Stage V or whatever.  It’s spread a few places.  It’s just a few lumps and spots.  The trials of old age.  Let that be a lesson to you.”

I tried to smile.  “Are you telling me to die young?  Elfangor would not approve, especially since he worked so hard to keep me alive.”

“Pah.  Now, you said you wanted to say something.   You still have to share.”

And next time, I’d be a terrible son and not let my mom go first.  “I was talking with Ax.  Elfangor’s birthday is coming up again.”

“I know.  Bastard’s only going to be 16 now,” she groused. 

I wasn’t surprised Mom knew his Andalite birthday.  She even knew Ax’s, which is something I never even managed, and I think it was only because Elfangor had calculated the dates out years ago because she nagged him for weeks.  “Anyway, Ax wants to give him another surprise.”

“Dare I ask?”

“He wants to send you to their planet.”

That got her attention.  “What?”

I smirked, even though I understood my mom’s shock.  While Andalites were welcome on Earth, the same sort of hospitality wasn’t completely offered on the Andalite world.  Yes, humans could visit, and I had little doubt I could, with a bit of difficulty, get permission, but the problem was the Andalite world wasn’t exactly perfect for humans.  The gas contents in their atmosphere were very different.  The higher oxygen wasn’t a bit concern until the greater pressure on their world was taken into account, which greatly increased the chance of oxygen toxicity.  Andalites didn’t have a problem on earth, since their lungs were very efficient in removing oxygen, though Ax did say at the start he did tire easier.  However unlikely the chance or easily avoided, it made Andalites wary of having too many humans on their world, especially since they still considered us primitive and basically incompetent.

“He thought it’d be a good surprise.”

I got her interest.  “And how is that going to stay a surprise?  If I take a step off this planet, someone will know and then Elfangor will find out.”

“Not if you go incognito.”  I grinned.  “Ax think is you go as an Andalite tourist returning home, you could sneak by.”

“And I’m just supposed to ask a bunch of Andalites if I could acquire them, huh?”

“Ax said if you agreed, he’ll arrange a small shipment of samples.”

“How much power does that boy have?” she gasped.

I laughed.  “Ax knows who to talk to, and he’s better at asking for things than Elfangor.  He actually manages to not glare at them into submission and sound like he means it.”

“Elfangor would point out that his way worked.  But Ax at least is acting like an adult.”  She bit her thumbnail and thought about it.  “They’ll figure it out, I have to demorph, I have no ID, and I can’t act like an Andalite.”

“All that time with Elfangor and Ax, you could totally pull off an Andalite.  And all the tourists have their own quarters and Ax can swing a temporary ID.”

“That’s it, he has too much power, he has to go down.  I’m telling his parents.”

“Mom, think about it.  You deserve it.  And just imagine his face.”

I knew she’d agree.  Mom would give some token protests, maybe pretend to think about it for a day or two, but she wanted to see Elfangor again.  In person.  I seriously hoped Ax knew what he was doing.

 ****

Loren

 ****

I would have been completely lost if it there hadn’t been one familiar face.  I knew the Ports were busy on the Andalite homeworld, but I never realized _how_ busy.  It was like they shoved the top five most populated cities on Earth and _laughed_ at us calling them busy.  I thought Andalites didn’t like cities.  It was like someone overturned an anthill and it ended up being an Andalite-hill.

<Loren?>

My eyes – stalks eyes were great, but all they did was give you more stuff to have to filter out – snapped and I sagged with relief.  <Noorlin?> I asked hesitantly.  I was sure it was him, but I wasn’t sure either.

He smiled.  <Come along, _kallei_.  The ship loading and unloading areas are always too busy.  Everyone must come here, if only to get to the other side of the world or the moons. >

I followed him, relieved that he seemed right, because after a few blocks the sea of blue thinned out and I could breathe a little easier.  Noorlin chuckled.  <Are you fine for your time?>

<Yes.  I morphed just before we landed.  Where are we going?> My eyes darted around, eagerly taking in everything.  It wasn’t anything like the pictures.  There were Andalites morphing beautiful creatures and several calling out things for sale.  Even if it was alien, it was also very human.

<To my personal transport.  We are close enough to make the trip in a few hours.>

I was excited and Noorlin was nice and smart enough to merely point out interesting things while we walked, and then pointed out his vehicle.  It wasn’t until we were zooming through the fields that everything that he said, <You can demorph now.>

After I did, he was a very thorough guide, pointing out a lot of things and laughing when I beat him to a few of them.  It was a long ride, but Noorlin was a very open Andalite and quite chatty.  While he was certainly an Andalite and had all the traits that described the lovable blue fuzzballs, I could see why Elfangor considered his father a softie.  There was a lot of Elfangor in him, or vice versa, especially in the smile and humor.

<We are getting close.  There is a chance Elfangor may see us if he is running now.>

I laughed at his glee.  “You are cruel parents.”

<No.  We are very nice parents.>

Shaking my head, I morphed back to my Andalite form and it was only about ten minutes after that I saw what had to be their scoop.  Part of me still marveled that all Andalites really lived in what a system of heavy-duty plastic tents.  And just like for humans, around them were small gardens and belongings.  As we landed, I saw another Andalite appear, and just a glance showed it wasn’t Elfangor.

<Was your trip pleasurable?> Forlay asked as I got off the transport.

<Wonderful,> I smiled.

<I did hesitate in sending my Noorlin.  He can never keep himself quiet.>

<I think he can, he just won’t,> I said, giving him a look with my stalk.  He laughed at me.

Forlay’s eyes smiled.  <You understand him very well, but, then again, he is not a very difficult study.>

<I can sense when I am being made fun of.  I think I shall escape with some pride and find our Elfangor.>  He trotted off. 

<Let’s take care of your things.  They will be back soon.>

After placing my bag in a scoop, she gave me the tour, and she spent some minutes showing me a very complicated DNA pattern she was examining.  I nodded politely, turning my stalks every which way, and I turned my head when I saw the father and son appear.

<Looks like he is to be reprimanded, doesn’t he?> Forlay sighed.

I giggled at her point.  Poor Elfangor looked like he was being dragged in front of the principal’s office when he didn’t do anything wrong.

<His father wasn’t nearly so difficult.  I hope Aximili isn’t so impossible.>

<Do you think it’s even possible?>

<Shush, don’t tempt the Ellimists.  And do not give yourself away too soon.>

I might not even get the chance.  Noorlin’s eyes were smiling too broadly.  Once Elfangor got near enough, he did straighten and looked like a polite adult instead of a petulant child being forced to play with the weird kid.

<I have found him!> Noorlin greeted broadly.  <You must forgive our son, time escapes him.>

<I do apologize for not being present to greet you properly upon your arrival,> he said in a very blank sort of tone, and out of habit my hand moved to cover the smile that wasn’t there on my face.

<We were not insulted.  Our dear friend knows all about you, Elfangor,> Forlay said, answering before I could.

<Have you known my parents long?> he asked.

<For many years!  You must have heard us talk about her, Elfangor!> Noorlin boomed. 

<Forgive me, I forget details like that.>  He was staring at me, as if running through a list of possible suspects and finding each of them worse than the last.  However, he finally succumbed to politeness.  <I am Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, I welcome you to our scoop.  May our grasses and suns be pleasing to you.>

<You still are an arrogant ass, Elfangor,> I replied.

He blinked at me.  And then blinked again, eyes darting between each of his parents and me.  <Loren?>

I held out my hands.  <Happy birthday.  Ax’s little surprise.>

<But we did help,> Noorlin boasted.

<Pull your stalks down before they fall off,> his mother added dryly.  <Now, do show her the fields.  Go on, now.>

He shook himself and managed to obey, and I followed him, giggling to myself.  <Why are you here?> he asked.

<Because Ax thought it’d be a good surprise.  And if the mountain won’t come to me, I guess I had to go to the mountain.  What, aren’t you glad to see me?>

<Of course I am!  How long do you have in morph?  You should demorph, it’d be better.>

<I’m that hideous, aren’t I?>  I wasn’t sure how I looked as far as an Andalite’s sense of beauty, but I doubted I was any fashion model.

<No, no!  You’re very pretty,> he hastily assured.  <I mean, you could have done far worse.>

<Thanks.  And don’t worry about my time, I have like an hour and a half of time left.  I morphed just before we got here.>

He stared at me for a long moment before he shook his stalks.  <Your trip, it went well?>

As we walked along the perimeter of the scoop, I talked what I had gone through to get here, and he agreed with me about the over-crowded landing zones.

<How long will you be staying?>

<Maybe a week?> I offered.  <There’s another tourist trip to Earth.>

<So not very long.>  He sounded disappointed.

I had to agree.  Remembering a thought I had when I first practiced this morph, I grinned.  <I bet I can run faster than you now.>

He started at the topic change but then smirked.  <You cannot.>

Without warning, I bolted, running at full speed, and then watched with one eye as he followed.  It became clear he was right, but just before he could pull level, I pivoted directions and laughed watching his flounder for a microsecond.

<You shall have to do better than that, Loren,> he called.

<Watch me.>

Either because he actually was faster than me or because he just had more experience being an Andalite, it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he managed to corner me, blocking any turn I attempted to make with either his torso or his tail, and I had to stop, even though I wasn’t tired at all.  Grinning at him, I accepted his suggestion to get a drink in the stream.

<I think I wore you out,> I smirked, because there was a sheen of sweat on him.

<You might have,> he admitted to my surprise.  <Females are much better distance runners than males.  Eventually, you would have been able to get away.>

<Then I guess it’s a good thing you caught me when you did.>

<Yes, I think so too.>

 ****

It was a perpetual dusk this time of year instead of night, but there was enough darkness that the stars could come through.  I looked up, marveling at the differences.

“You have so many shooting stars.”

<Ships, actually.>

“Whatever, it’s still very beautiful.”

He didn’t respond and I chatted for a few minutes before I realized he wasn’t responding.  He was staring at me and I asked, “What?”

<Nothing.>

“You’re staring at me.”

His eyes blinked.  <I apologize.  It is just … you look different.  I do not mean that negatively.>

“I’m not sure I can take that any other way.  We see each other each week when we talk.”  However, even as I spoke, I did understand what he meant.  In person, I could see how much more tan he had gone, the subtle changes in his physique, even the changes his coat went through.

<Yes.  But you have developed smile lines,> he said, a finger stroking my cheek, ending just to the corner of my mouth.

“Telling a lady she’s got wrinkles isn’t exactly polite,” I whispered, “or wanted.”

<I am only making the comment that the visual screen does not have adequate definition.>

“Some women like that amount of definition.”

He smiled.  <Tomorrow, may we run to the forests?  It is a very long distance away.>

“How long?” I asked.

<It will take several hours.>

“Shouldn’t we take the car?”

His ears drooped a bit and I wished I hadn’t asked.  <We could, if you wish.>

“Well, I just didn’t want you to get all exhausted,” I teased.

He perked up.  <You do not have worry about me,> he said loftily.  <I am not so feeble and old, even if my birthday is near, to not be able to make that run.>

“And your parents won’t worry?”

<I am an adult, they do not have to watch me.>

“You’re only sixteen.  And that’s what all sixteen-year-olds say.”

<Yes, but when I say it, it’s true.  You will like the forest.  It is very beautiful.>

“Don’t you have a job to do?” I asked.  “Translating and the junk.”

Elfangor waved a hand dismissively.  <For some strange and unknown reason, my parents insisted I work ahead of schedule, so I am unusually free of obligations at this time.  And as for my next assignment, I also do not believe translating the complete works Dr. Suess will take too much of my time.>  His eyes twinkled with laughter.

I laughed in shock.  “Dr. Suess.  You’re joking.”

<Sadly, I am not.  Sometimes I do not believe the things they send me and think the humans are having an elaborate joke on us.>  If they were, it seemed like Elfangor wasn’t against it.

“Hey, Dr. Suess is one of our greatest authors.  How many could think of _I do not want green eggs and ham, Sam-I-Am_?”

<Certainly not an Andalite.>  He looked to the sky with his stalks at another flash.  <I know why they gave me this position.>

“Because you’re an expert on humans.  Or as close as they got.”

<There is that.  But there is also a changing of the guards on the Council.  The People do not like my silence.  Oh, they will twist it in their heads that I am being a humble warrior, that will fit their mental image of me.>  There was a bit of mockery in his voice.  <Each new elected politician, each slowly younger than the last, who only know the stories, will replace the anger of the older, and piece by piece, they will rescind my restrictions, if only to deny they were ever there in the first place.>

“What are your restrictions?” I asked, touching his hand.

<They are nothing troubling.>

“I think they are, otherwise why even pretend they never existed.  Please, Elfangor.” 

His fingers traced over my palm.  <You know many of them already.  I must not give interviews, must not speak without first clearing it.  I cannot leave my world, not even to go to the moons.  To be quiet and obedient.>

“And what are they going to do if you don’t?” I demanded.

<I gave my honor that I would obey their words, Loren.  I must obey them, it is my obligation as a warrior and citizen.  And just because I am seen as a hero does not mean I do not deserve punishments.  I broke many, many laws.  But I also humiliated many, many who do not share my ideals and who still wield a certain amount of power.>

“What, are you saying they’d … put a hit on you or something?”

He smiled at the term.  <There is no reason to strike at me to make their point.>

“You mean they’d go after your parents, or Ax?” I yelped, angry.

<There, or maybe even humans or other aliens.  Other Andalites.  They could easily use my name for some cause that I would never approve of.>

“And I thought our politicians were scum.”

<I am thinking worse-case scenarios.  It is a bad habit.  But I know many who dislike me are deciding votes in human relations.   There is no reason for me to make this difficult, to give them another reason to hold back.>

“Sometimes, you really are too noble, Elfangor,” I said. 

He made a scoffing noise.  <And you make too much of little things, Loren.  What is one to the many?>

“Shut up, Spock.”

<Do you know, I’ve always thought Vulcans were a very illogical race.>

“You’ve got to be kidding me!  They were the logic centers of the universe.”

<And since they were created by humans, it explains much about humans.  To be logical, you have to cannot be guided by your emotions; to be peaceful, you must suppress them?>  He shook his head.  <Illogical.>

Wrapping my blanket around me, I asked, “You think emotions make you logical?”

<Emotions can compromise logic, I’ll admit, but they also guide it, can help pick the right path.  And Hork-Bajir are very peaceful and very full of emotions.>

“You didn’t pick Andalites or humans for a reason, did you?”

<The Hork-Bajir demonstrated the concept better.>

“But they’re not very logical.”

Elfangor gave me a disapproving look.  <You confuse intellect with logic.  They may not be intellectually-capable, but they are very, very logical and can pick between choices in ways that make sense to them.  Just because the information they use is not completely accurate by our definition, does not mean their choices weren’t made with logic.>

I pouted at the counter.  “I still think Vulcans are logical.”

<Humans would think they are.  They’re not.>  I saw him examine the moons.  <We should sleep now, so we may leave early tomorrow.>

“Coward,” I muttered but moved to lie against his side.  “You don’t mind?”

<No.  And even if I did, you would do it anyway,> he smiled.

“Hard ground, Andalite pillow.  Yeah, I would.”  I rested my head on his side and heard the distant thumping and each breath.  “Good night, Elfangor.”

<Good night, Loren.>

 ****

It was like a psychedelic Robert Frost poem.  I stared in awe at the trees and flowers around me, ignoring Elfangor’s expression.  Even though I had seen pictures of Andalite trees and forests, in person there was so much more.  I didn’t think there were any trees on Earth this thick or this tall.  Even the guide tree, _Hala Fala_ , wasn’t this massive, and that tree had appeared huge with the other few lone trees around it.

<Oh my god.  This is ….>  I was at a loss for words as my eyes took in everything.

<I thought you would appreciate this,> he said softly, coming closer.  <It is nothing like to _Hian_ _Valley_ , that is truly beautiful, but it is a bit of paradise.>

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what _Hian_ _Valley_ would look like, if it was more beautiful than this.  There was plenty of room for us to navigate, since the large trees weren’t too close to each other, and I walked vaguely, just admiring the red, purples, blues, greens, and golds.  Perhaps I should have paid attention, because I walked into a brush and screeched when something hit and started climbing up my legs.

Elfangor roared with laughter as I danced away, still panicked and eyes darting.  <Easy, easy, don’t be afraid.  It is nothing dangerous,> he said, still laughing, and attempted to steady me.

<What was that?> I demanded, still high on nerves.  Apparently Andalites were very high-strung, because I could not calm down.

<Here, I’ll show you.>  He moved away and spent a few seconds attempting to catch whatever attacked me, and I laughed at his efforts.  However, finally he succeeded and returned clutching a small red and orange creature with large eyes and antenna, its long tail wrapped around his forearm and feet and legs clutching.  It looked like a strange sort of rodent. 

<What is that?>

<A hoober.  Don’t worry, they’re harmless, like frogs.  They used to be the bane of Mother’s existence, when I was younger.>

Now that he said it, I could recognize that it was a hoober, and my hearts were finally slowing down.  <He’s cute.>  He handed it over and with my weak hands I barely kept a grip on the body while Elfangor unwound the tail.  It snapped around my own arm.  <They eat the tree seeds, right?>

<Yes, and other bits of brush and insects.>

My hands released slightly, and the hoober instantly sprung from my hands into a branch, before bouncing and climbing into the leaves.  After he disappeared, I glared at Elfangor.  <You could have warned me.>

He was unrepentant, still grinning.  <And have missed that?  And to be fair, I didn’t know there was a nest there.>  Tapping his tail to mine, he said, <Let’s go to the stream.  You have to demorph soon.>

I followed him, but I was suddenly unnerved with a strange sensation from when our tails touched.  It made a chill go down my back and my hearts sped up again.  Stupid reaction, I cursed, because it was nothing more than what I had seen Elfangor do to Ax countless times years ago.

The stream was a few miles in, and Elfangor commented it was the same one that fed his home.  Centuries ago they had extended the rivers so each scoop had a water source, though slowly many of those rives dried out and the families instead returned to the practice of making small ponds to collect rainwater or digging natural wells. 

The water was cool and I enjoyed walking in it while Elfangor drank from the shore.  “Do you have fish?”

<Fish-like.  Actually, more like jelly fish or octopi, but there are species you’d think of as fish.>

“Any sharks?” I asked, before bending to scoop up from of the flat rocks on the bottom.

<No carnivorous animals of that size are in our oceans or rivers,> he said.  <And you should put that back in the water, it is suffocating.>

I looked at my hand, at the rock I picked up, before dropping it back in just in case.  “What was it?”

<A _nappior_.  Like a sponge and clam.  They purify the water and excrete a numbing agent. >

My eyes flew open and examined my hand.  “My hand feels fine.”

<It needs to be administered to open wounds.  A very old natural remedy.>

“Huh.  Well, thanks for the warning,” I said, splashing him, and then sputtered when he retaliated with his tail.  “That’s not fair.”

<Yes it is.>

I made my way over and smiled sweetly at him.  “Here’s an idea.  Why don’t you morph human so I have a chance to duck your head?”

I never expected him to agree, but I didn’t expect the pained expression to cross his face.

<I cannot.>

“Why?”

<I promised I would not.>

Aside from being angry that those jerks forbid him from doing that, I wanted to slap him.  “You know, Elfangor, I don’t think they’ll find out.”

<Just because I could get away with it does not mean I should do it.  Please do not ask me to again.  I’m sorry.>

If he didn’t have his silly code of honor, he wouldn’t have been Elfangor, or maybe an Andalite, but it didn’t erase my anger at the politicians.  “Well, then you could dunk your head and pretend I did it.  We’ll all be happy.”

<Somehow, I don’t think that will make me happy.>

“You mean, even if it makes me happy, it won’t make you happy?” I pouted, batting my eyes.

<That will not work, Loren.  I am not an idiot,> he said firmly.

“Debatable.”  I sighed.

 ****

I woke to fingers in my hair and smiled into his side.

<I wish you could stay.>

“Me, too.”

There was a quiver and a pause.  <You were supposed to still be asleep.>

“So are you,” I yawned.

<Yes, but you were supposed to be asleep first.> 

“Cute.”  I dozed while he brushed my hair.  Where the horrible idea came from, I don’t know, but suddenly it was there.  “Maybe I could stay.”

<You could not hide here forever.>

“I could stay with you.”

There was the pause while he went through all the meanings possible, and then the firm, <No.>

I momentarily felt the twinge of pain, even though I expected the response.

<You’re not becoming a _nothlit_.  I won’t let you do that, not for me. >

“I’m not sure you could stop me,” I said, burying my face against his fur.

<Loren, don’t.  You don’t know what you’re thinking, what you’re giving up.>

“I have cancer.”

<What?>  His voice was pained.  <Where?  How bad is it?  Why haven’t you gone to a doctor?  Can the humans cure it?  We could press for Andalite doctors.  And –>

“Elfangor, stop.” I pushed myself up.  “You panic too much.  I’m fine.”

<Then you went to the doctors?> he said, ghosting his hands over me.  <You’ll be fine?>

“And this is why I was going to tell you _after_ everything was done,” I sighed. 

<You weren’t even going to tell me!?>

“I was going to tell you.  After.  When all your panicking would have been, you know, condensed and pointless,” I defended half-heartedly.  “And it doesn’t matter, because I told you now.”

<You did not say how bad it is.>

“It’s not that bad, I guess.  The doctor is very optimistic.”

<Human doctors, what do they know?  They’re primitive and crude. Dangerous.  They have to cut tumors out.>

“Elfangor, if you’re trying to not freak me out, you need to work on it.”

He quieted, guilty.  <You should not become a _nothlit_ to escape this, not if it is curable.  And not to be with me. >

“Why not?  I love you, and you love me.  Don’t you?”

That pause that came hurt like a thousand knives.  But then he put his hands on either side of my face and forced me to meet his gaze.  <Yes.  Yes, I _love_ you, Loren, and that’s why I _can’t_ let you do this. >

“Why not?  Being a _nothlit_ … that won’t be impossible.  If the Yeerks can do it –”

<I do not doubt you could survive.  Survive and thrive.  You are beautiful as an Andalite.  Perfect.  Lovely.  But you should not be with me.  No, shhh, listen,> he said, stopping my protests.  <I’m a terrible disgrace, even with my fame.  I am known as a fool, as an unkempt ruffian, a traitor to Andalite ways.  No one will deal with you, you will be stared at, ridiculed behind your back, mocked.  They’ll think you’re manipulative, using me for your own gain, or a fool for being with me.>

“What’ll I care?  I’ll have you.”  I stroked his cheeks.  “And I’ll be a weird-enough Andalite they’ll figure out pretty easy we fit together, I think, if everyone thinks you’re a mess.”

There was a small smile.  <But what about Tobias?> he whispered.

That was a douse of cold water, and I couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. 

<You can’t leave him, now when he has finally found you.>  He took my hands and held them between us, and I could only stare at the blue and pink.  <It’s better this way.>

“No it’s not, but it won’t be better that way either.”

<I’m so sorry,> he whispered, dropping his forehead to rest on my head.  <I wish … for once, I wish we still had our own little universe.>

“Our own little universe, huh?  We had one?”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest.  <Yes.  We made it.>

“Tell me about it?” I pleaded, because it promised to be a good story, even if he made it up.

<I’ll tell you everything.>

 ****

“Mom, are you okay?” Tobias asked.  “Do you need something?”

“Tobias, you’re hovering,” I scolded.  “I’m fine.  I’m out of the hospital, no pain, no scars, no anything.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked.  “Something’s wrong, I can tell.”

“What _are_ you talking about?”

“Did something happen between you and Elfangor?  Did you guys have a fight?”

“No.  We did a lot of talking and had fun.  It was probably the most honest we’ve ever been with each other.”

“And … that was good?”

“Yes.”

Tobias shook his head.  “You’ve just been sort of … blah since you came back.”

“Blah,” I repeated.

“Blah.  Okay, what does honest mean?”

“It means we talked about our history.  All of it, balls-on accurate.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Pretty good.”

“Would you tell me?” he asked, his curiosity unhidden.

“No.”  That was between Elfangor and me.  “Do you know something that occurred to me at the hospital?  Andalites live for over one hundred fifty years.  And humans barely make it to fifty, let alone hundred.”

Tobias didn’t respond and there was a long bit of silence between us.  “Mom ….”

“It might be better if Elfangor and I start calling a bit less.”  It was something we both agreed on.

“Is that why you haven’t called him for awhile?”

“Yes.”  I gave him a look.  “I wasn’t aware you kept track of that.”

“Ax said something that his parents said.”

“Gossip,” I sighed.  “Don’t worry about us, we’re two reasonably intelligent adults.  We’ll be okay.  We’re still _friends_.”

“But you guys were more.  Mom, don’t lie to me.  You two were totally doing it back then.”

I whirled on him.  “We were not,” I snapped harshly, “and don’t you dare talk that way about us, ever.”  While Elfangor and I may have been intimate before I knew the truth, that didn’t count.  He was _Alan_ then, not Elfangor, and I understood now that you can’t love someone without knowing the truth about them.  And that time before the battle … that was just once.

Tobias pulled back from my tone.  “Sorry.  I just … we thought ….”

“You thought wrong.  There was nothing improper between the two of us all the time I knew him.”

He avoided my gaze.  “But you did love each other, didn’t you?”

“We loved who we thought the other was,” I said.  “He loved me as an idealized past wife and I loved him as a charming human that told me about my son.  And then we realized what we were doing and stopped.”  If only you should shut your heart off like that, because even if we stopped the old love, we started a new one.

“But you love each other now.”

I refused to answer.  “Tobias, what’s supposed to happen?  We’re supposed to have a long-distance relationship, live happily ever after, human and Andalite?  He’s already facing enough problems without adding me into the mix, and I already went through the jokes and innuendos and degradation when _certain people_ gave their opinion on our relationship. Those were some great drawings, and I’d _love_ to see what’d they come out with if we were open about it, or how the Andalite’s would react if that got out.  And I guess unfortunately, being someone’s dirty little secret isn’t something either of us really want.”

He was looking at the table, avoiding my gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” I said, trying to slow my breathing.  “We both talked about this.  We don’t have a future, we can’t.  We can still be friends, but that’s all, and it’s just time to start admitting it.  Love just doesn’t conquer all, not in the real world.”

“Couldn’t it?” he asked, looking back up.

“Getting married only made you an incurable romantic.  Or at least made you come out of the closet.”

“Maybe.”  He reached over and took my hand.  “Mom, there is a way you can be together.  You both can morph.”  His voice was quiet and tight, as was his grip.

“I won’t ask him to do that again, and I can’t.”

“Why not?  Because of me?”  My expression must have given me away, because he was suddenly frantic.  “Mom, I want you to be happy!  I don’t need you human or even on the planet.  And I’m not a little kid anymore.  If I survived being thousands of miles away, not seeing you for months, I can handle you being away a few measly light years.  I know how to work a phone, you’re not going to disappear again.”

Tears sprung in my eyes.

“Please, if it was me, if I had to choose between Georgie or you, and you knew it, you’d tell me to pick her without even thinking about it.  Let me do that for you, too.  Please.  You both deserve to be happy.”

I was crying and wiped my eyes.  “You couldn’t have given this before I left the first time?  Or at least before that surgery?  That anesthesia almost made me throw up.”

“You know me, I never think of things until it’s just before the last second.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom.  If you’re sure.  I know … becoming a _nothlit_ , that’s permanent, a big decision, and I get if you can’t do that.  I don’t even think I could.”

“For the right person, the right reason, I think you could.”  I wiped my nose on my hand.  “I can’t just appear, or disappear.  People aren’t stupid.”

“Hey, you’re talking to me.  I’ve got a scary-crazy-intelligent wife who loves a good romance, I’ve got Ax and his parents, I’ve got Erek and the Chee, I’ve got two Andalites who are turning into crazy cat Andalites, I’ve got _nothlits_ who’d love to screw with Andalites and humans, I’ve got a whole underground network to deal with that.”

“I am _so_ telling your father.”

Tobias chuckled, green eyes dancing.  “Somehow, when this is all said and done, I don’t think Elfangor is going to be too angry with me.”  He hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Besides, I don’t think my family is finished yet.  I need some alien siblings to round it out.”

 ****

<Are you sure?> Elfangor whispered, gripping my face.

<If you ask that again, I’m tempted to say no just to watch your expression.>  I stroked his cheek.  <I’m sure.  Tobias is sure.  Everyone is sure.>

<You have to understand what you’re doing, giving up.  You can’t undo this.>

<So says you,> I teased, and that got a smile.  <I don’t care if we’re pariahs or outcasts, and whatever you say, you are not a disgrace or not worth this.  It’s all going to be fine.  Besides, I’m dead on Earth by now.  That damn cancer.  I can’t come back from the dead.>

<I’ll never let anyone hurt you, I promise,> he vowed, and I felt the passion of his promise in my mind and on my skin.  <I’ll never let you regret this.  Never.>

<I promise I never will.  Well, except when I think of chocolate.>

He laughed quietly.  <I love you, Loren.  Loronli.>

I felt myself trembling for the pure feeling I was picking up.  <I love you, too, Elfangor.  Alan.>  I stroked his cheek while my other hand traveled over his chest.  He stroked my ears and down my back and I felt our tails touching, twisting instinctively.

<We should run.  Run with me,> he whispered, and the words sent a thrill through me.  <Make me catch you.>

<You already caught me.>

<Run.>

I broke away in a fast breath, as fast as I could, as if I could outrace my declining time.  Overhead, it was dark, the grass wet and fresh, and I heard our hooves, saw Elfangor gaining.  I found a hidden reserve and ran faster, harder.  Pulled away.  Yes.  Catch me if you can.

And then he was closing in again, and I turned away, chose another direction, the wind ruffling.  Gaining and losing and gaining again.  And then he was close enough to swing his tail and make me have fewer choices.  Again and again, until my tail moved on its own to block one of his, and I could dive the way I wanted.  The contact was pure power and pleasure, and I laughed breathlessly. He caught me again, grinning, breathing deeply and covered in sweat, and except this time when I attempted to block him, he twisted his tail around mine, trapping our tails above us by locking our blades.  No matter how much I tugged and tried to escape, he kept it prisoner, and kept us locked in a small circle, that grew smaller as our tails wrapped a bit more, until he caught my wrists and pulled me to his chest, loosening our tails to give just enough slack.

<Caught you,> he murmured, touching our foreheads, his breath hard and warm.

<I let you,> I lied, breathing just as hard.  Even now, part of me wanted to run again, if only to get caught again.  There was a high, dizzy scent and I tugged my tail futilely. 

<You’re not getting away,> he promised, tightening the coil, not painfully, but there wasn’t any give.  And it was glorious.  His hands came to my face and the pleasure made me grip in wrists and throw back my head.  Almost as the same time he buried dragged his hands down and buried his face into my neck, and my hands let go to caress his head, stroke his ears, cheeks, go down his neck and over his shoulders.

Through it all our stalk eyes kept staring at each other.  I watched the pupils constrict and then dilate.

But what might have been the most moving was the thoughts, the presence that started when our forehead touched and was not in my whole head, the pure passion and essence of Elfangor.  I could almost guess his next motion, what he wanted, desired, and my own thoughts were just as powerful.

I still wanted to run, to move, and I was pawing the ground anxiously.  When Elfangor pressed his hands on my back, pressed me down at just the right moment, my knees buckled under the weak effort, and I was sliding down to my knees, my stomach before I knew it.  Staring up at him, trembling, and I knew if he loosened his grip on my tail just the slightest I’d run.  I dared him to, almost hoping he would.

He twisted he tail in what must have been painful to him, as he walked around me, and then he was resting fully on my back, pinning me.  Trapped at the moment, he loosened his tail enough to correct his hold.  And he was dragging his hands over my arms and chest. 

My hearts were pointing in my ears, my breath was coming in gasps, and behind me my tail was moving in the grass with his.

<What are you waiting for?> I whispered, trying to feel for his cheek, stalks focused on his main eyes, straining under him.

<The moment when you’re mine.  Forever.>

Even through everything, I felt the flash of panic at the reminder, fear.

<We can stop, we can stop,> he promised, grabbing my hand.  <Tell me to stop, there’s still time.>

<No.  No.  Just don’t let go.>

<I won’t.>

I felt the moment when he realigned our tails, when he shifted back and then forward, the sudden brush of pain and fullness and _oneness_.  My head was suddenly opened and he poured in, and if he had been in before, now he was everywhere.

 _I dreamed this_ , the thought echoed in my head. 

 _You’re not dreaming now_.

 _I know_.

Distantly, I knew there was movement.  I knew there was pain mingling with pleasure.  But all I felt was _Elfangor_ , _Us_ , and it was all the mattered, my mind lost of sense of the rest of the world.

 ****

—Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf—

I eyed my wife suspiciously as she trotted down into the scoop.  She seemed far too pleased with herself.  True, I would be fool to not have some idea what made my Forlay happy, but I asked, <What has you so amused, my dear?>

<I merely located our son and Loren.>

Yes, I had assumed that. 

Their Elfangor and Loren had been missing a day, which was not something so very unusual.  It was hoped for, what everyone had worked for.  I hadn’t been blind that since the human left the first time, our son’s mood had deteriorated, that suddenly there were so many fewer communications between the once very frequent pair.  That suddenly our son was often absent from being with us.  It was not terribly unusual for older Andalites to not wish to be with their parents, but it was a terrible timing.  My son had been happy and then he was sad. 

Neither Forlay or me, as parents, were so blind to ignore that our Elfangor had an infatuation with the human.  At the start, that was how my Forlay described it, refusing to accept that our son was in love with a weak, foolish human, and she worked doubly hard at introducing him to young _Andalite_ females, all that he ignored.  I had accepted it easier, because it was the truth, and, after speaking with the human, I could see the interest.  I might not have been able to _understand it_ , but I then again, I understood little about what my children did.

It took longer to convince Forlay the truth, but finally she accepted that all she was doing was harming our son’s peace with her efforts.  She had another son to focus on, at least, so there was still a chance for her hopes.  While she never quite forgave Loren for ruining her dreams for Elfangor, she could appreciate her for making her son smile and be happy.

<I trust they are well,> I asked.

<They were by the stream, speaking,> Forlay said, and her face literally radiated pleasure at the fact. 

<You did not speak with them?> I asked, knowing she had not.  There were few things she wished in her life, and interfering in the continuation of a conversation between a female and one of her sons was not one of them.

<Of course not!  Do you think I’m a fool?  Elfangor is with a female, finally.>  She relished the idea, closing her main eyes.  <Of course Elfangor would have to be so difficult in finding a mate.>

I smiled faintly.  <Are you sure they were not arguing?>

<They’re tails were wrapped.>

<I seem to recall _us_ having very good arguments even then. >

Her eyes snapped open.  <Do not even hint at the idea, Noorlin!  I will not have you ruin this by putting ideas into his head.>

<Elfangor is not even present to hear me!  And I doubt arguing is on their mind.>

Her tail snapped.  <Tis no matter.  If they argue, if shall be because you spoke so!  They were both in perfectly pleasant spirits when I last saw them.>

I waved my tail in mild amusement.  She would fret about this, as if the two should suddenly now decide they loathed each other.  She had pressured and cajoled Elfangor into finding a mate for years to no avail.  He had expertly ignored all her words, and, when I had asked (more to save my own sanity), said he had no intention of joining when he was in this war.  _It wouldn’t be right or fair_ , I remembered him saying.  At the time, I had not understood, but that had been in the beginning, when everyone thought it would over soon, before the death toll mounted, how warriors were rarely home.  I realized, for all this habits, my son was a rare creature, kind and wise to not wish to put a female through that grief and worry.

And now, the war long over and himself off duty, Elfangor had finally conceded, and his mother wanted nothing to spoil it.  It was amazing that my sensible wife could be so insensible.  After all they went through, those two weren’t going to let anything separate them now.

Honestly, Elfangor’s female surprised me.  I never would have expected a human to draw my son’s stalks, but she was clearly a match for him.  And to become a _nothlit_ for their Elfangor … she was worthy. 

She would certainly be a unique addition to the family and draw attention.  The morphing had given her an odd mixture of genes to live withShe did not have the long build or short fur my Forlay exhibited.   Instead of the smooth fur, Loren fur fluffed about her ankles and ears, which were far larger than Andalites from this hemisphere normally exhibited.  Her eyes were larger as well, yet the overall form of head and body suggested their area.  I suppose she was ascetically pleasing, in a certain way, if an Andalite liked that sort. 

It was all well, though, if my son was happy.  And I doubted there would be a long wait for little ones, and was hopeful for.  Perhaps it was merely Forlay rubbing off on me, but I wished Elfangor to start his own family, had for many years.  Since the “retirement” from the military – and I was not so large the fool to not realize the true reasons, or the punishments my son was unfairly forced to endure – our Elfangor had been quiet and more apt to be off in the fields alone than was, to my mind, healthy.   A family, a little one, that was the way to be, to find one’s center and rediscover purpose.

But no, it would not do to rush ahead. Elfangor was always stubborn and he’d probably withhold little ones out of spite.  Too much like his mother.

No matter, Forlay could hint for that.  She had, after all, finally succeeded in finding him a mate, though she deserved no credit, I thought gleefully.  I would have to make a point to subtly hint that for her chances of success with Aximili-kala. 

She was typing in a console, and, curious, I asked, <What are you looking for?>

<Well, you have to give him a _Geinash_ flower, Noorlin,> she said simply. 

<They have not even agreed to a timeframe.>  Because there was no point in saying the two hadn’t agreed to join.  It would not surprise me if they had already done the physical before the ceremonial.  While it wasn’t exactly appropriate or made me look at my son with pride, I could acknowledge that this relationship had several years already under its tail.

<There is no harm in being prepared,> she said primly.  <Come, help me decide.  It is a good thing Elfangor did destroy your old one when he was little.  These are much better than yours was.>

I remained quiet to that, because my Forlay meant well.  Maybe I should agree, but that _Geinash_ arrangement had been _my_ father’s, and my temper had been tried greatly when my eldest son, trying to be helpful, killed it with kindness.   <Perhaps we should invest in one of those plastic ones,> I said.

Forlay scolded me, though I felt the amusement trickling from her.  <They must set a date soon.  Maybe in the _Lati_ , such beautiful flowers.  Maybe around the water.>  She murmured to herself.

<Do you mean you do not already have it planned?> I asked.  <I thought everything was set except for his choice.>  That way, it would have been done before Elfangor could change his mind. 

<I would not do that to Elfangor and Loren, they must choose.  But I have several suggestions.  One has to, with that child.>  She was examining several arrangements.  <I do hope Aximili can attend, he is always so busy.  He must attend, I will insist.>

I shook my stalks at her fondly.  No doubt Elfangor would appease her in this, after the amount of troubles he put her through, and Loren would follow an easy guide.

 ****

—Ax—

**a few months later**

<You do realize you are a very terrible older brother,> I scolded.

Elfangor tilted his stalks at me.

<You were supposed to let Mother do whatever she wished, so that way she would not be so zealous at my time.>

<She would still have been.  She is Mother.>

We shared a laugh and I smiled to see my brother happy and relaxed while he watched Loren speak with friends, Mother guiding her.  I knew why Elfangor had stepped in on Mother’s hopes.  Aside from not wishing a large, full ceremony in the first place, no doubt he also did not want to overwhelm Loren with such a regale and pomp. 

<Are you going to travel?> I asked.

<No.>  There was a momentary flash of disappointment.  <Mother and Father will be visiting their friends for a few weeks, bragging, no doubt, so we do have that.>

I wondered for a moment where they would have liked to have gone, but I did not ask.  My brother soon disappeared to Loren’s side, and I smiled at the sight of my brother being so visibly besotted and Loren, pleased. 

At least my plan did come together, with a few unintended hiccups.  And it certainly wasn’t like I manipulated anyone.  And everyone was happy.  That was all that mattered.  I was sure Tobias had a glimmer of my plan, understood what I was trying to accomplish subtly, because he had reported that if it hadn’t been for him, everything would have gone down the toilet drain.

“Next time, we just lock them in a ship and strand them in Z-space and let them sort themselves out,” he had said, drinking an alcoholic beverage in a victory celebration.

I didn’t want to admit that would have been my next strategy.  <As the humans say, cheers.>

“You said it, Uncle Ax.”

 ****

— Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen—

***almost two years later***

<Perhaps you should not over-work yourself, Loren,> I suggested politely to my daughter-in-law, in the tone that the males of the scoop would have taken note and obeyed.  Unfortunately, while she certainly recognized the tone, Loren was too independent.  It was not to say she did not respect me or was foolish, but it was very clear that, while she could take my suggestions, she could also decide not to take them. 

<This isn’t work,> she stated, not even changing the position of any of her eyes.  <This is like shopping, looking for a sale.  Balancing a checkbook.  And I don’t know who they’re kidding, charging ten dollars for a single Cinnabun.  Honestly, they can’t expect to get away with this, not unless this thing is super-sized, and especially since they’re not shipping it off the planet.>

None of that made any sense to me.  It certainly seemed difficult with the numerous pads and screens she was using.  And I didn’t quite trust her to handle these … finances, some strange human economic system that the Andalite government had to start examining.  Even though she appeared Andalite, she only had the understanding of a human, and that had to leave her at a disadvantage in her work.  How could she adequately and correctly manipulate the Andalite part of this, when she barely understood our own methods of economy?  Elfangor might have faith in her, but as her other half, he should and would.  It did not mean he trusted her any more than I, only that he would keep his thoughts quiet except to defend.

<Honestly, I can’t believe no one has ever _looked_ at these things, or didn’t notice that problems.  Can someone say, _extortion_.  I always knew the prices were high where Andalites were tourists, but this is awful. > 

<You should leave this for later.>

<Forlay, I’m pretty sure once I pop, there will be even _less_ time to do this.  I thought it was supposed to take _years_ to get knocked up.  Damn liar. >

Able to make educated guesses on much of the human vernacular, I smiled.  Yes, that _had_ been a pleasant surprise and not one I was to complain about.  For as difficult as my son had been in taking a wife, he had managed to comply with my next desire without me even having to make a single hint!   <It is only evidence my son and you are compatible.  Extremely so.>

<Yeah, I noticed that with my fat, bloated self.  Stupid pheromones.>

Afterwards, I would have to give her the methods at suppressing them.  It had never occurred to me to mention them prior.  Even if it had, I wouldn’t have mentioned it anyway, not because I desired grandchildren – well, not _entirely_ – but for the simple fact that it usually was very difficult for new mates to sync their reproductive systems.  Maybe it was because Loren was not learned at manipulating her new body, so the instincts were stronger, but I could not argue the result.

<Healer Xalpeniano told you to take it easy.>

She ignored me, making a notation, and I struggled against her very strong stubbornness.  But before I could continue attempting to corral my wayward relative, Noorlin called for my assistance.  Keeping my stalks on her, I went to him as he bent over a blueprint, the imager in hand and drawing the curve of the engine.

<Leave her be, Forlay,> he said.

I scowled at him.  <Did you call me over to just say that?>

<Loren isn’t incompetent.>

<I never said she was.>

He raised his main eyes.  <At this point, it may not be necessary.  Don’t hover over her so.>

<She needs someone to help her, even if she does not know it.>  What did she know about being an Andalite, or a mother to one?

<Elfangor can help her.  And if she does need other help,> he continued, knowing my arguments before I could speak them, <all you do is make her to not want to go to you to prove herself.>

<You are being ridiculous.>

He changed a few things on the board and analyzed the results.  They displeased him and he erased much of the work he had spent most of the morning on.  While that would have annoyed me, Noorlin simply started another theory. 

<I have heard Elfangor speak with Loren,> he continued.  <He made a suggestion that they could find their own scoop.>

My stalked stretched and whipped towards my treacherous offspring, who was working at another console.  <You must have misheard.>

<He was quite clear.>

<That’s ridiculous.  There is no need for them to leave.>  It was very rare for families to separate into different scoops, especially since the limit on children was enforced.  It was more likely the scoops would remain empty because the death of the last family member.  <This is because of her human sensibilities, isn’t it?  I read that the children and parents separate homes in almost all instances.>  Such a barbaric practice.  <How do they expect to care for their little one without our help?>

Noorlin smiled.  <I believe we managed all right without my parents around to assist us, and your parents never did like the travel.>

<You know precisely what I mean.>

<No, I do not.  And I am not saying I want them to leave, I am saying what I heard our son suggest.  And, Forlay, Loren did not agree to his suggestion, so her old sensibilities are not directing her.>

<Then why say such a ridiculous thing?>

<Our son is stepping to Loren’s defense and comfort.  Perhaps he believed you would not take any plea to leave her be seriously and decided to skip to the most effective method.  Elfangor has always been one to take the direct approach.>  He tapped my tail.  <You have always been too over-protective, Forlay, of our children and now of Loren.>

<I am not over-protective.>

He laughed loudly.  <Do not make me compile a list, you are so.  I am only warning you that, while at the moment, Loren is able to handle your adorable over-bearing nature, that doesn’t mean it will last.  Whether she decides to take up Elfangor’s offer or he manages to convince her, they could leave us, and I do not want that, and I will be very angry at you if they do.  Just let them learn how to run a little without jumping to catch them at each stumble.>

I looked between the two youngest members of the scoop, hurt and angry.  My son would dare think to leave behind my back and Loren had influenced him enough to consider it?  <If that is what they want, I will take my help elsewhere.>

<Do not be that way,> Noorlin scolded.  <Just let them _come_ to you when they truly need the help, instead of standing over their tails offering unneeded assistance.>

<A mother knows when her children need help, even before the child does.>

<Yes, but perhaps she does not understand what her child needs help with.  Please, Forlay, at least try.>

I scowled.  <I said I shall.>

<That’s all that matters.  Elfangor and Loren shall notice it too.>

As long as they stayed, I would be pleased.  That was all that matter.  And when they needed my assistance, which they would, I would be near enough to offer it without delay.

 ****

My son was lying on his stomach, smiling and trying gently to coax my grandchild out from under his mother.  It seemed that for as much as the little one may have trusted him, he was as much terrified to leave the safety of Loren.

<I remember those days,> Noorlin chuckled.  <Feeling dejected that my own sons did not want to be with their father.  And a bit jealous.>

<He is very tiny.>

<Not much smaller than Aximili or Elfangor were.  Healer Xalpeniano wasn’t concerned.>  He laughed when our son appeared to give up, getting to his hooves, and we watched the little one hide back more.  Elfangor did not look upset at the fear and stood alongside Loren.  She wrapped tails with him and leaned her head against his shoulder, and I averted my eyes at the personal scene.  Sometimes that girl was too bold; it was the human in her, I knew it, but by now she had to recognize it wasn’t done.

Noorlin appeared to agree with me, for he suggested touring the meadows, and we left the private awning to the far broader fields.  There were several other private birthing awnings, and medical personnel and guests travelled between them.  Further down, there was the larger domed shelter, where other medical concerns were taken.  It was not a very pleasant field to be in, but it had its purpose.  While _some_ might think giving birth in the home field was the right course, I very firmly held my tail and disagreed, not that the rest of our family wasn’t of the same opinion.  Loren had commented on the very different human medicine, especially with regards to birthing.  I was in complete shock when she mentioned the labor could go on for over a day.  How very inefficient!  Humans were a species with many biological flaws.  While some weaker Andalite mothers may need medications to help them through their time – I am proud to say I was not one of them – the process was not something that needed much intervention.  However, because misfortunes can happen, the ability to get interventions was necessary.

Loren had managed perfectly, delivering a sixteen pound six ounces, nineteen inches high, twenty-four inches in length from nose to tail-tip male in little more than three hours.  My son had been more worried than her, but that is males for you.  Put them in a situation where they can do nothing, where they are at the whim of something they cannot control, and they panic and fret and become utterly useless for sense.  My Noorlin had been the same way, even if now he denies it.  I was of a great mind to not allow him in the same area as I during Aximili’s birth. 

Healer Xalpeniano – who had delivered both Elfangor and Aximili, and many more children in his nearly one hundred and eighty years – had examined the still stunned little one, pronounced him without any health complaints, and gently assisted when the infant attempted to stand and retreat to Loren.  Withheld only until he was dried and cleaned, the little one was now quite firmly under his mother and had no intention of leaving, and was so very bashful I had not even gotten many looks at him.

The final name hadn’t been decided upon.  Elfangor and Loren had agreed to follow tradition and name him after Noorlin, which the fool was giddy about, but they were still in conversation about the other names.  They did not ask my opinion, and I was hard-pressed to keep it to myself.

<We should be able to leave tomorrow,> Noorlin commented.

<Did you contact Aximili?>

<Yes, and he promised to contact the human they speak with.>

Between the two of us, there was always a tacit agreement not to bring that human often into conversation.  We understood who he was in terms of our daughter-in-law, and despite his approval of his mother’s choice, neither of us could feel comfortable in it.  To leave her old form was one thing; to leave her son, grown or otherwise, was another, almost disgraceful.  But to know she would not have made _my_ son so happy if _her_ son hadn’t convinced her to do so … that was a terrible thought, to know our happiness was the result of the unselfish act of a human.  To have destroyed his family in order to create our own, even if he had been willing, created a gnawing sensation within both of us. 

Loren and Elfangor did not appear to share our guilt, though they probably had their own.  She still called herself his mother, and my son was not against being a strange sort of father.  With the birth of the human’s offspring not more than several month earlier, they also considered themselves grandparents, though that title was only within the family.

We did not stay away long, only for the amount of time we would need to eat, as both of us were still eager to hopefully examine our little grandson.  Aximili did need images sent of his new nephew as well. 

It was to our shock that we found the little one awkwardly running between his parents, pausing only to catch his breath under the safety them, to a laughing Loren and grinning Elfangor, sometimes grabbing their hands. 

<Why couldn’t our sons have been that open?> Noorlin laughed, regaining his senses faster than me.

However, noticing our arrival, the little one panicked buried his face against his father’s legs.  <There, there, Zefer, they are not so very scary,> Loren smiled, bending and waving us closer.  <They’re your grandparents.  Can you come out and say hi?  Pretty please?>

<Zefer?> I repeated, while the little one cautiously stuck his stalks out.  The vision this young wouldn’t be much, but he could see vague shapes with the now-blue eyes.

<His name, Zefer-Sirinial-Agathil,> Elfangor said, bending forward enough so his hand could touch his son’s head.  At the touch the little one looked up.  <Come on, now.  You’re safe from them, at least for a few years.  We’re here and we’re not scared.  Come out, come out.>

To my utter glee, little Zefer did step out enough so we could see him clearly.  Adorable!  Oh, yes, definitely Elfangor’s son, the basic features were so close.  Next to me, my Noorlin dropped to his knees.  <Well, aren’t you a brave one, little Zefer-pen!> he said proudly, but at least he had the sense to keep his thoughts soft and less threatening.

Zefer ducked himself back, startled despite the effort.

<Noorlin,> I scolded, bending to lie on my stomach.  <There, now.  Can I see that pretty face?>

It appeared not.

Loren smiled.  <Don’t worry.  I think he’ll be nodding off soon.  I definitely am getting sleepy vibes.>

<Yes, I agree.  Then you two can hover to your hearts’ content,> my son added, tracing his fingers against the tall ears, a calming gesture that appeared to be working.  Within a few minutes, he had succumbed to the ministrations and gravity, letting Loren arrange him around a cushion.

Perhaps I am biased, but he was perfectly adorable.  The data card for the camera, already showing signs of use, was soon replaced with another, and when my son dared make a comment, I reminded him his brother was not present and would appreciate it.  Loren agreed with me, and together we spoke about the foolishness of males.

<You are aware, Zefer is a male, too,> Noorlin pointed out.  <Disparaging your own grandson, when he’s not even a day old.>

<At least his foolishness has an excuse,> I smiled.  <And we can work on his.  It’s too late for you.>

<I suppose that _does_ explain why I still love you. >

<Well said, Elvis,> Loren laughed, and Elfangor promised to explain the reference to us later.

 ****

At home, Zefer grew with the rapidity Andalite young are known for.  While he generally stuck close to his parents, he grew comfortable with Noorlin and me.  My Noorlin was being ridiculous, pulling out all of the old children’s toys to teach Zefer, and later Loren.  Part of me wondered how she could teach the child anything if she couldn’t even figure out his infant toys, but there was time, we could teach young Zefer, all wasn’t lost.  But still, to not be able to solve a _uite_ … were all humans so intellectually deficient?

As with all newborns, Zefer at first communicated primarily with Loren and my son.  The mother-child bond had been created in the womb, and bond between mates was often strong enough to cross between father and son, if the father made the effort.  Of course _my sons_ would make the effort, just as their father did.  It took him several weeks to make a whisper to others, and my jealous would have to be admitted in that he communicated with Noorlin before me during their playtime.  My Noorlin teased me until he realized how much it did trouble me, and then he was all that was consoling and supportive, creating opportunities.   But it still hurt that I was the _last_ my little Zefer opened himself to.

<Now, Zefer, this is a _neighal_ plant, with three chromosomes altered so the colors are more vibrant and speckled.  No, no, we don’t play with them, > I scolded gently, pulling him away before he could destroy them.  With the chromosomal change, they had become very fragile, too fragile to be practical.  It surprised me that sometimes, with all our knowledge, these things can still take us by surprise.

Zefer was displeased at my interference and tried again. 

<No,> I repeated stronger.  Little ones always insisted on pushing limits, and he cowered at the tone.  I wouldn’t feel guilty at it, because I would not be manipulated by an infant.  <Now, do not pout.  We behave and do as we’re told here, no matter who we are.  But here, you may amuse yourself with plant.  Your father always enjoyed playing with it,> I said, guiding him towards the _andchar_.  Zefer looked between me and the plant, unsure.  I smiled and gave him a small push.

His hands touched the plant, and his eyes widened as the _andchar_ started to soften and melt over his grip.  Hands pulled away, he examined the bits still on him.  It had solidified to its natural state, but once he picked at it, it melted again and fell to the ground.  It would mean weeding later.  Curious, Zefer tried again, with the same results, only up to his elbows.   He turned to show me the mess, arms raised high. 

<Yes, I know.  Messy.  No, no, don’t touch me!>  Looking down, I sighed at the handprints and grinning child.  <Thank you.>

And then I felt it.  The presence in my head was subtle, but there it was, the soft emotion of _happiness_ and _confusion_.  I dropped to my knees and kissed his cheeks.   <Oh, my little Zefer, you do not know how happy you make me.>

He smiled and imitated my kiss, and I felt the _andchar_ residue on my face.  Too much like his father.

 ****

<You are not allowed to touch me ever again,> Loren scowled at Elfangor.

I hid my laughter, because I didn’t want her ire turned to me and my still not teaching her how control her systems. 

<This is good news, Loren,> Noorlin beamed.  <Unusually soon, but good news!  Very good.  Perhaps another male, but a female would balance it out nicely.>

<Gah!> she spat and stomped away.

Zefer called for attention, worried, and Elfangor smiled.  <Mother is fine.  She is merely very happy that you will have a little brother or sister sooner than she intended.>

<Intended?> I repeated, interested at the news.

<She wasn’t against the idea, and since the restriction of family size has yet to be reenacted, it was an option.  We had not moved past discussion.>

<And yet into activities,> Noorlin teased, to the annoyed embarrassment of our son.

<You do always state the obvious,> I said, <in a very obvious fashion, Noorlin.>

<Subtly has remained beyond my grasp.>

<That is correct.  You should go to Loren.  This is a joyous time.>

Elfangor nodded before looking at his son.  <Yes, but a little more space between the joys would have been more preferable, for both of us.>

He left us, Zefer following in the fashion little ones do, and I beamed at Noorlin.  <This is wonderful news.>

<Yes, but I think next time, you should not postpone on speaking with Loren about her cycles.  As much as I enjoy grandchildren, I won’t abuse Loren in such a fashion.  Nor give my son such a cold punishment in her method of prevention.> 

<I will speak with her.  And I will make the comment that a mental joining produces the same effect as when it is combined with the physical, as you well know.  As I’m sure Elfangor knows, and so should Loren by now.>

Noorlin winked.  <Some studies always need more data.  Surely you remember _that_.  You are not that old, my Forlay. >

There was no response I could give to that, so I said nothing.  Males.

 ****

Zefer-Sirinial-Agathil

***~4 years later***

There was a difference between seeing humans, and actually seeing them.  I frowned at the human – Tobias was his name.  I didn’t like him at all, and it wasn’t because both Mother and Father were so very glad to see him.  Mother had wrapped her arms around him, and he, her, and part of me felt betrayed.  Mother was only supposed to do that with _them_ , not with stinky humans. 

It did not help that the human hadn’t arrived alone.  There was an adult human female named Jillian or Wassa Nine-Three-Two, I wasn’t sure which, because my parents used both interchangeably to the same human.  And then there was Megan, Tobias’ daughter.

Father said they were the same age and should get along well, but I didn’t think so.  Especially not after Mother was so pleased to see her – and so was Father, but I would not think about _that_.

Bored and upset, I scuffed my hooves and studied the human girl while our parents spoke.  I knew my parents had communications with humans, this one in particular, but I never really spoke with him. Why would I want to, he was a silly human, and Grandfather and Grandmother didn’t.  It was a shock to realize Tobias knew so much about me and Lithinon, or that he could tease his mother for being so large with his newest siblings.  I very nearly yelled at the human for the mean comment, but Mother laughed.

<See?  I knew I looked like a giant blimp.  They’ve all been lying to me.>

<You do not look like a large blimp,> Father smiled.

<Notice he doesn’t meet my eyes when he says it.>

Tobias laughed, and then he mentioned how his wife Georgie had said the same thing before she gave birth to his second daughter, Mina.  (Georgie and Mina had stayed on Earth, unable to make the trip.  I was secretly glad, because I didn’t know how his parents would act to a newborn human and I didn’t want to find out, because I had a terrible theory they’d have reacted like anyone does around babies.)

I wondered if my grandparents had gone to the conference so they could avoid the humans.

After a while, Father suggested Lithinon and I – but mostly me, because Lithinon was too little to be a good host and merely followed me around, which was annoying, but he was annoying sometimes, so it balanced out, I guess – show Megan the scoop and to go play.  There was no polite way for any of us to refuse, and we trudged away from the adults.

We didn’t make any conversation.  In fact, it was all very quiet and distant while I showed the human the scoop, my toys – hopefully Father wouldn’t say I’d have to let her play with them – and the work stations and gardens.  And then there wasn’t anything else to show, and we sort of stood around watching Lithinon play with some toys in the scoop, and then run off to show the human adults.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Megan finally said.

<What?> I didn’t understand the term.

Megan looked around.  “Where you go potty.”  I still wasn’t sure what she meant.  “Umm … poop and pee?”

<Do you mean … relieve ourselves?> I felt myself fluffing, embarrassed.  Humans _talked_ about this?

Megan nodded.

<It is over in the fields.  Do you have to …?>

“No!”  Her face changed colors.  “I went before we left.”  She looked around.  “I’m Megan.”

<I know.>  I paused.  <I’m Zefer-Sirinial-Agathil.  And that is my brother Lithinon-Marinta-Piltilma.>  Mother always said humans were bad at Andalite names, so she probably had to hear mine a bunch to get it right.

“Zefer-Sirinial-Agathil and Lithinon-Marinta-Piltilma,” she repeated, and I was a little surprised and disappointed that she _had_ gotten it right.  “My full name is Megan Loren  _______.”

<Loren is my mother’s name!> I said, surprised.  Well, not _really_ , her real name was Loronli, but everyone called her Loren.

Megan nodded.  “I was named after her.”

<Oh.  I didn’t know that.>  She was named after my mother, in the _secondary_ position, the one that traveled through the generations?  I really didn’t want to be impressed that humans would chose to honor my mother like that.  Of course Mother deserved it, but that humans would think it too was very strange.

“Are you named after anyone?”

I waved my tail.  <I share my father’s secondary name, but I think Mother merely liked my name.  It is the same for my brother.>  I struggled for a moment, trying to think of another conversation that I wouldn’t be required to pay much attention to.  <And your sister?>

She made a face.  “Her name is Mina Rachel, after Great-Grandma Mina and one of my dad’s old friends who died.  She’s really annoying, all she does is cry and sleep.  When is your mom going to have the baby?”

<Babies.  She is to give twins.>  I swelled with pride.  Twins were rare.  <It is to be soon.  The Doctor tells her she cannot do too much activity.>

“Are they going to be boys or girls or both?”

<I do not know.> 

“We knew Mina was going to be a girl.  Mommy wanted to know.  I wanted a sister, but now I think I want a brother.  What do you want?”

I tried to think.  <I do not know.  I like my brother and would not mind more, but I think a sister would be okay.>

Megan nodded and looked around.  “Your sky is weird.”

<No, it isn’t.>

“It’s blue on Earth.”

<Blue?  Like an Andalite?>

“Yep.  But here it’s red.  Why is that?  It should be blue.”

<No.  It should be red.  Your planet is just strange.>

“No, yours is.”  She looked at me.  “Daddy said I couldn’t ask, but can I?”

<Umm … ask what?>

“Could I ride you?”

I raised my stalks in surprise.  <No.  I could not hold you and might damage my back.  Can I ask you a question?>  Megan nodded.  <Why don’t you fall over all the time?>

“Because I stand up straight.  If I lean too far over, I fall.  See.”  She demonstrated, and I jerked when she almost did, prepared to help, but she righted herself.

<It must be hard to stay straight all the time,> I consoled.

“Not really.”  She tilted her head.  “What grade of school are you in?  I’m in kindergarten.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant.  <My parents and grandparents teach me …>

“So you’re home-schooled.  Mommy thought about doing that, but Daddy said I should go to school.  I’m glad, because I wouldn’t have meant Jenna.  She’s my best friend.”

Ah, something I could understand!  <Sofor is my friend.  He lives in the next scoop over.>

She grinned.  “Can we visit him?”

For a second, I wondered if I wanted to introduce Sofor to a human.  <We would have to ask my parents to take us.  I am not allowed to go by myself.> I felt embarrassed at the admission.

“That’s okay.  My mommy or daddy has to take me too.  It’s poopy.”

Desperately, I searched for another topic, since I wasn’t sure how it related to relieving one’s self, and I really didn’t want to know.  <You have very pretty hair.>  It was yellow and tied up in to bunches on either side of her head.

Megan blushed and petted it a strand.  “Thank you.  So is yours.  It’s very fluffy.”

Because I was so young – but not _that_ young – but also because Mother was long-furred.   <Thank you.>  I needed another topic.  <Who is the other human with you?>

“Jillian?  She’s Daddy’s assistant.  She’s a Symbiot.”

<A what?>

Megan looked at me like I was stupid, and for a moment I felt like I was.  “A Symbiot.  It means she is host to a Yeerk.  Wassa is nice.”

I had never heard of such a thing.  In fact, I heard Yeerks were evil.  Not from my parents or even grandparents, but I had heard it. Who would want to deal with evil things.  <I thought …>  I stopped, not sure how to ask, or even what to ask.  <How does it work?>

She shrugged.  “Jillian wanted a Yeerk.  Wassa helps her do her job.  They fight a lot though, but it’s funny, because it’s like they’re talking to themselves, since they talk out loud.  Some Symbiots don’t, you know.”

<Yes.>  Of course I didn’t, but I didn’t want to admit that to a human, especially not a girl.  Maybe Father could help me understand.  <Is her … their job hard?>

Megan didn’t seem to know.  “I might become a Symbiot.  Daddy says not until I’m older, but Mommy says I shouldn’t.”

<Why?>

Again she shrugged.  “Would you like to be a Symbiot?”

<I … I don’t know.>

“Jillian says she’s never lonely and always has someone to talk to, but Wassa says Jillian talks too much, which is why she needed Wassa in the first place.  Wassa says Jillian needs someone to keep her on task, so she’s just like a big babysitter, but Jillian says Wassa is a work-a-holic.”

<Ah.>  I was uncomfortable with all this talk I didn’t understand, and I suggested we go back to our parents.  Megan agreed and said she could beat me in a race.  I disagreed, accurately.

 ****

<Father?> I asked his father during our feeding.  Mother wasn’t supposed to go out so far from the scoop, so we had to dine in the distant grasses so she would have grasses.  I didn’t mind, because it was a way to get away from the humans.  Mother was resting on the ground, talking with the three humans. 

<Yes, Zefer?> Father responded, helping Lithinon eat his grasses.  I was glad he was old enough not to require help eating.  I was nearly grown up.

<What is a Symbiot?>

I was surprised when Father turned his main eyes to me.  <Where did you hear that term?>

<Megan.  She said the other human is one.>

<Ah, yes, of course.>  Father was quiet, thinking, and I wondered if I shouldn’t have asked.  But Father was usually very patient in answering questions, and he had had never gotten upset at it, not like Grandmother, who sometimes scolded me for my poor timing.  I never understood how my timing was poor.

<Is it bad?>

Father jerked and looked at me, surprised.  <No, of course not.  Though,> he gave a crooked smile, <not all Andalites would agree.  But humans can be a bit more tolerant in some venues.>

Father was distracted from further explanation when Lithinon demanded attention.  <This is the icky grass!>

<It is the healthy grass.>

<I don’t want it!  I want the tasty grass.>

I ignored the scene, at his so very childish behavior.  I wasn’t going to act like that. Lithinon would refuse to eat his grass, and then Father would tell him he did not have to.  The win would only last until Father then pointed out that he wouldn’t get the other grass either.  And, unlike the other elders in the scoop, Father did not back out on his statements.  Father only took a few steps to eat his own meal before Lithinon screeched and said he was hungry.

Part of me remembered experiencing the same strategy when I was little.  But Lithinon was a picky grazer, as Grandmother said, and he pulled the trick often.  He wasn’t very smart.

We ran a little until both Lithinon and I were full before Father took us to the stream to drink, and then we watched him complete his own meal while we drank.  My task was to make sure my little brother did not go too deep into the stream.  It was high this time of year and might take him away.  Even though I sometimes wished it would, I wouldn’t let it happen.

Father was drinking in the stream when he spoke again to me.  <What did Megan say about Symbiots?>

<She said the human -- >

<Her name is Jillian, Zefer.>   It was half a reminder and half a scold.

<She said Jillian was host to a Yeerk and the Yeerk was a babysitter and helped her do her job and that they talked a lot.  The Yeerk’s name is Wassa,> I added, to show I had paid attention to that and was polite.

<Yes, it is.  Do you know what a Yeerk is?>

I paused.  I knew what his friends’ relatives said, but part of me didn’t want to repeat it to Father.  But did I really want to admit that I didn’t know?

Father took my non-answer as an answer.  <A Yeerk is a … a species that is rather helpless alone.  But, if it connects to another being, it can … share control of the body.>  Father’s words were slow.  I wasn’t sure if it was because he was trying to explain something very complicated or because it was something very easy.  Father was strange like that, sometimes.

<How do they share control?>

<They enter the host’s ear and connect to the brain.>

I gave a little jump and brought my hands up to my ears without thinking about.  That sounded very painful!  <Doesn’t it hurt?>

<The Yeerk excretes a numbing agent.>

It still sounded like it hurt.  <And then they work together, like Megan said.>

<Ideally.  But some Yeerks used to forcefully take control of their hosts.  But that is not done anymore,> Father added quickly.  <The human hosts have developed a … partnership with their Yeerks.>

I thought about what Father said.  <Megan said she might become one.>

<It is her choice.>

<Her father said when she was older, but her mother doesn’t want her to.>  I tilted my stalks, to watch Father for his response.  <She asked me if I was going to become one, too.>

Father’s nostrils flared and stalks rose, but it was not in anger.  I didn’t think so, anyway.  <It … it would be your choice.  When you are older, of course.>

Everything was always when you were older.  <Would you?>

The answer was short and sharp.  <No.>

My stalks rose.  If Father wasn’t going to, then it didn’t seem like a good idea.

As if realizing himself, Father sighed and looked away.  There was a pause while he gathered his thoughts.  <There are some things I am not allowed to do, Zefer, as part of my … retirement.  I could not become a host, even if I desired to, because whatever I know, the Yeerk would know as well.  There are no secrets.>

<It would know _everything_? > I squeaked.  I didn’t like that idea, not at all, especially since it might tell my parents when I disobeyed when they didn’t know.  It could be what Mother called a tattletail, and I didn’t want my tail to turn into a tattle.

<Well, I’m sure they do respect each other’s privacy these days, but I swore that I would never reveal any Andalite military knowledge.  I cannot break that vow, Zefer.>

<No, you can’t,> I agreed. 

<Besides, I have no interest in becoming a Symbiot.  Your mother and your grandparents and yourself and your brother and soon your new siblings are all the companionship I need.  And your mother is a very good babysitter.>  He smiled and touched my cheek.

I wrinkled my nose at the sign of affection.  I was too old for kisses, but I didn’t pull away.  Father was not very obviously affectionate, at least not like Mother.  Mother was always giving hugs or a cheek kiss or everything else embarrassing. 

<Perhaps you should speak with Jillian and Wassa.  They would be able to answer your questions more fully than I.>

<No,> I quailed.  I didn’t want to speak with someone I barely knew, especially not alone. 

Father smiled.  <Come, we should head back.  Perhaps both of you and Megan could play a game.>

I made a face.  To play with a human, and a girl at that.  <Like what?>  She’d want to play with _dolls_.

<You do not like Megan?>

I struggled for something nice to say.  <She has pretty hair.>

Father laughed.  <Yes.  She has her grandmother’s hair.>  Before I could ask what he meant, he continued.  <Perhaps you could play with the kites your Uncle Aximili got you.  Kites were invented by humans.>

I didn’t like the idea of letting her touch my toy, not the prized one Uncle Aximili had sent me.  <She can use Lithinon’s.>  Lithinon’s had already gotten tangled in a tree, and both of my parents spent a long afternoon fixing it and consoling my little brother.  I had spent it protecting my own toy.  After all, if Lithinon broke one, he’d probably break mine too, and I wasn’t going to take the chance.

Though Father gave me a cocked stalk, he didn’t say anything.  Lithinon did.  <My toy!>

<You should share,> I said, looking down on him.  I was the elder brother and he should listen to me, because I knew best.

<No!>

<Yes!  You can’t even fly it properly, anyway.>

<My toy!> Lithinon repeated stubbornly.  <Megan can use yours!>

<Lithinon,> Father said, warning.

<She’s a girl!  She’ll break it!>

<You already broke yours!>

<That is enough,> Father interrupted, sighing.  <If Megan wishes, she may use _mine_. >

I stared.  That wasn’t _fair!_   I’d have let her use my kite if I could use Father’s, but a look from Father stopped me.  Part of me wanted to bitterly hate Megan for the right, but I hoped that, when we were playing with the kites, I could coax her to trade. 

 ****

Megan, her father, and Jillian/Wassa stayed a two weeks.  Lithinon and I played with Megan, who knew this strange games involving red lights and green lights, whatever those terms meant, and freeze tag and hide and seek.  (It had taken me almost an hour to find her, and it was because she had climbed a tree!  I was in awe, and it didn’t even leave when Megan’s father had to climb up to get her because she was too scared to get down.  To climb a tree!)  In return, we taught her driftball – but of course did not expect her to play it correctly – and how to speak with the trees and catching hoobers.  We scared Jillian/Wassa by sticking one in her bag and had to suffer the scolding of three irate parents, but then Jillian/Wassa made it so a herd of the hoobers chased us around by drenching us in the plant nectars.  We had been overcome and licked clean, laughing at the feeling.

Jillian/Wassa didn’t get a scolding.

Mother let us feel the newest siblings in her and Megan showed me where to watch when, every few days, Jillian turned her head to the side and little dark blob slid into a small contraption she called around.  I wondered if that was the Yeerk.  It did, like Father said, look helpless.  Jillian was usually quiet after she did that, and did not seem normal until she put Wassa back in her head.

I, remembering that Megan said Jillian was probably lonely and that was why she was with Wassa, tried to keep her company and play games with the older human, but she didn’t like me very much or want to play my games, so I stopped after a few tries.  Besides, she was with the other adults.

Part of me was surprised to find I was sad when the humans had to leave.  For a girl, and a human, Megan wasn’t that bad.  I tried to not show how much it distressed me, but I couldn’t hide his surprise when Megan said that the next time Mother spoke with her father, we could talk too.  I quickly glanced at my parents for approval and agreed, and then gave a step back when she hugged me with her much stronger human arms.  I wasn’t sure what to do, but before I could do something, her face parts – lips? – touched my cheek and she let go.  And then, after giving Lithinon one as well – and he hugged back – she skipped to her father.  He was grinning, shoulders shaking.

<I will call in a week,> Mother said, smiling.

“I’ll be waiting.  Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you were going to give me some news.  I’m surprised you didn’t already!”

Mother laughed.  <As am I.>

Everyone else gave their goodbyes, and then the humans were gone, leaving on their transport.  I stood for a long moment, though I jumped when Father tapped my tail.

<And what do you think of humans?>

<They’re strange.>

Father chuckled.  <Yes, they are.  But they are a good sort.  And we are very fond of Tobias and his family.>

<Why?>

He was quiet.  <I think that is something we shall explain to you when you are older.>

I sighed.  It was always when you are older.

 ****

***~A Few Months Later***

****

I decided I loved it when Uncle Aximili visited.  It didn’t matter that this would be the _first_ time he would have visited, but the entire scoop was happy and excited.  Grandmother did not even scold me for jumping over things, and Father was grinning.  Yes, Father smiled, I couldn’t deny that, but the mixture of the smiling and happy air made my normally serious father not nearly so serious.

With my little brother, Lithinon, we were impatiently waiting for the arrival.  _We_ were the ones who were going to tell everyone when Uncle Aximili was in view.  Mother said we were the best to do the job, and Grandfather had seconded.  The only problem was that we had to _wait_ , and both of us were rushing back and forth, kicking a small driftball ball.

<Do you see him yet?> Lithinon asked, trying to stretch his stalks higher.  I was taller, so it made sense he’d ask me.

<No.  But he’ll be here.  Father said he would be here within the hour.>  And Father was never wrong.  But an hour was so _long_. 

Their Uncle Aximili was one of the greatest warriors in the Andalite military.  He was _Captain_ of his own ship, a very high honor, Father said, especially since he received his rank so young, and since he was one of the few Andalites who had honor to a ship.  All of our friends were very impressed, as they should be.   There was a dim part of Lithinon’s and my awareness that both Father and Grandfather had also been in the military, but that did not even come close to Uncle Aximili. 

Almost every seven days, he sent a communication.  Mother insisted.  She communicated with everyone on a set schedule and was very popular.  So Lithinon and I spoke with him often, and he was very funny and told us stories and looked kind.  Sometimes he even sent us gifts from his travels, which was the best part. 

Both of us hoped he’d bring gifts with him.

Some indubitably long time later, I felt my mood depress and become worried.    Where was Uncle Aximili?  Perhaps he was hurt – no, he was a Captain.  He wouldn’t get hurt.  But he was late.  Didn’t he want to see us too?  Maybe he was too busy to see them?

But I put on a brave face for Lithinon, who was looking even more dejected.  Still, I was glad with Father walked to them, for Lithinon rushed to him.  <When is Uncle Aximili going to be here?>

<Soon, Lithinon.>  He smiled patiently when Lithinon huffed, and I was glad I was so much more poised.  I wouldn’t behave so childishly.

<Did Mother send you out to watch as well?> I asked.  <You are taller and can see further.>

Father gave a little laugh.  <She said I was being under hoof and sent me here to be watched by you two.>

While pleased that Mother had such faith in us, I wasn’t sure if Father was telling the truth.  He looked serious and Mother might have said it, but sometimes I thought Mother never said half the things Father said she did.  Lithinon did not doubt it, though he giggled at the responsibility.

Together, the three of us waited, though really it was just me, because Father and Lithinon started playing driftball, until Lithinon made me join because my little brother couldn’t hit the ball properly at all and Father was nearly winning.  Between the two of us, it was easy to beat Father at the game, because Father didn’t use his tail properly.  Even Mother was better at driftball than Father, and she was really bad at a lot of games.

So intent on the game and correcting Father on his mistakes, the two of use were surprised when Father pointed.  <Look.  There is your uncle, right on time.>

We turned wildly and saw the approaching hover craft.  Leaving the game with yells and laughter, we rushed to the craft.

<Back away so he can land, you two,> Father said, and realizing the point, we stepped back, though we hopped up and down eagerly watching the ship land, waving.

Once on the ground, though, it was different.  While both of us knew Uncle Aximili, we had never actually _met_ him.  Seeing him only on the transmissions did not convey his strength and height, and he was so _very tall_.  Lithinon moved behind me when Uncle Aximili left the craft with a bag over his shoulder, and I could only look up at him with a nervous feeling in my hooves and almost wanted to stand closer to Father.  But no, I was not a baby, and Father was close enough. 

But the feelings only lasted until he spoke.  <Are these my two little nephews?>  He sounded kind and good-humored and not scary at all.

We grinned and rushed to him, quickly introducing ourselves in case he didn’t recognize us, because if he looked different from his transmissions, we probably did too. 

<Did you bring us something, Uncle Aximili?> Lithinon asked eagerly.  I almost kicked him, the idiot!

<Lithinon!> Father’s voice scolded, while Uncle Aximili laughed.  Lithinon ducked back a little, but Father merely went to Uncle Aximili.  <Brother.  It is good to see you.>

I watched them touch blades, and I wondered if I would have done that, too.

<And you.  Have you been waiting long?>

Father laughed.  <We were not expecting you when you said.  Still over-confident in the timeliness of bureaucracy, Aximili.>

Uncle Aximili smiled.  <A failing of Captains.  After all, we set the time tables.>

<Do you want to see our awning, Uncle Aximili?> Lithinon asked, grabbing his hand. 

<We made it ourselves,> I added, not to be outdone.  <No one helped us at all.>  Well, Grandmother got us started.  Actually, Father did, but she undid all his work, so it didn’t count.

<I would love to see it.  And the rest of the family.>

As we walked back, Lithinon and I showed Uncle Aximili everything about our home, and he was very surprised and interested with everything!  He said he never knew a lot of things we showed, and it made me proud to teach my uncle this things.

Grandmother and Grandfather met us, and they all touched blades. And now I felt silly for not doing it while they all talked boring things.  But then Mother and the twins came.

<Ax!> she greeted, taking his hands and I felt better.  If Mother did that, it was okay.  <It’s about time you got here!>

<Loren, you look well.  And are these my little nieces?>  His voice was quieter, kinder than before, but I understood that.  Valadia and Mayadria were young and shy, fighting for room under Mother, and faces hidden in her legs.  And they were sisters, which meant different rules than for brothers.  What those rules were, I hadn’t quite determined, but I knew they had to be different.

Mother smiled.  <Girls, can you say hello to Uncle Ax?>  They ducked their head and eyes more.

<Perhaps these will help.>  Uncle Aximili dug into his shoulder bag and withdrew two small dolls, and then lowered himself before offering them.  Valadia understood the offering and took it quickly, hugging it with an adoring smile, but Mayadria  required Mother telling her it was okay, and she still ducked her face against Mother, though one of her stalks did peek out just a little.

<Bribery,> Father scolded.

Uncle Aximili grinned as he stood up.  <So you do not wish your gift.>

Lithinon gave me an impatient glance.  He’d like his gift now, and I understood the feeling, but I wasn’t going to beg for it.  Having my uncle here was enough … but a gift would be nice.  Uncle Aximili might have caught Lithinon’s look, because he quickly brought about a small remote ship and a small toy that, when he shook it, made small explosions in the dome.  Lithinon quickly grabbed the dome, shaking it and showing everyone the small and noisy display, and I was pleased to get the ship without resorting to other tactics with so many adults around. 

<What do you say to your uncle?> Mother reminded, and both of us dutifully gave our thanks before remembering that we still hadn’t shown him their awning.

 ****

Uncle Aximili was even _more_ fun in person.  I had been afraid that as a Captain, he couldn’t do fun things, but that was a silly worry.  He played games with us and told us stories and took us on runs and focused on _us_ , instead of the babies.  It was so very satisfying to have such an uncle, and to have his attention.  He even told us bedtime stories, as Mother called _gallnaps_.  Neither Lithinon or I could say he was better than Father or Grandmother, but he was a novel difference.

And then, when he caught us doing things we knew we shouldn’t, he didn’t _yell_ or tell on us.  In fact, he caught us tail-fighting and gave us _pointers_.  And when Father and Mother caught us, he took blame, laughing.

<I am merely teaching my nephews, like you did for me,> he grinned at Father.  My stalk eyes perked up and I was surprised.  Father did not tail fight.  True, he did not scold as much as Grandmother or Mother when he caught Lithinon and me practicing, but he made it clear he did not approve of us doing it.  It was a strange idea to think he would teach anyone, especially Uncle Aximili, who was a great warrior.  What could Father teach him that Uncle Aximili wouldn’t already know?

<Father can’t tail fight,> Lithinon said.  <He doesn’t know how.>

Mother laughed and so did Uncle Aximili while Father gave everyone a disapproving glance.  Even Valadia and Mayadria  were giggling, but Mayadria  was under Father and he couldn’t glare at her.  <Who told you that?> Mother asked.

Lithinon looked around, unsure, while I was confused.  No one had ever _said_ Father couldn’t tail fight, but he never did.  Did that not mean the same thing?  One wouldn’t want to embarrass Father, after all.

Uncle Aximili smiled.  <Did you not know your father was one of the best tail fighters in the military?>

No, we hadn’t, and both of us looked at Father in surprise.  No, it was impossible.  Uncle Aximili was probably just being nice to Father.

<“Was?”> Father repeated, giving Uncle Aximili a look. 

<You have been retired for many years, Brother,> Uncle Aximili said playfully.  <You would be a little rusty.>

<Ax!  I can’t let you talk that way,> Mother scolded.  But she grinned.  <Even if it is true.>

The look Father gave her was confusing for me to describe, but I felt I should say something nice.  <It’s okay if you aren’t very good.  You’re very old.>

Lithinon agreed.

It did not have the desired effect.  Mother laughed again and Uncle Aximili grinned.  Father merely looked at the Lithinon and me.   <Perhaps so.  Maybe Uncle Aximili could give me a few pointers, to see how things have changed.>

For a second, Uncle Aximili’s face looked frightened, but it was gone, and I must have imagined it.  Mother shook her head.  <How old are you again, Elfangor?>

<Apparently, very.  Shall we, Aximili?>

<Of course.  My Prince.>  He smiled at the term.

After Mother called Mayadria  to her, she asked all of us.  <Who shall we root for?>

Divided loyalties raged in me.  I _should_ support Father, because he was Father, but Uncle Aximili would be the better.  I would rather support a winner, after all.  Looking at Lithinon, I saw that I was not alone. 

<You can root for Father, while I will root for Uncle Aximili.  Otherwise no one will, and he will be sad,> I said, thinking fast.  There, now it seemed like I _wanted_ to support Father, but was being nice to Uncle Aximili.  Yes, that was perfect.  Maybe Uncle Aximili wouldn’t like that I was only supporting him to be nice, but I think he was smart and knew I was lying anyway.

<Me, too!> Lithinon echoed.

Mother smiled.  <Well, we don’t want Uncle Ax to be sad.  I guess we girls will support Daddy, won’t we?> she said, tilting her stalks so each was on one of my sisters.  I didn’t think they knew what was going on, that Father was going to lose, because they preferred so root for Father as well.

Father and Uncle Aximili were speaking quietly, though I heard Father say some maneuvers would not be allowed, because it would <scary for the little ones,> and Uncle Aximili agreed.  No doubt they didn’t want to scare my sisters.  They were very young and might cry or run to Father if they thought he was going to be hurt.

The pair of older brothers, after agreeing on rules, stepped away and prepared to tail fight.  Lithinon and I were nervous, eager.  While e had seen our friends’ older cousins tail fight, they weren’t as old as Father and Uncle Aximili, and none of them were in the military. 

<I want a fair game, you two!> Mother called.  <No cheating!>

They smiled and nodded, and then – what none of the other tail fighters in my experience did – bowed.  And then, as one, they attacked.

It was spell-binding, fast and quick and dangerous and beautiful.  My eyes were wide, focused on it, and it became clear to me that I might not know Father as well as he thought.  Father – who was tail-clumsy in driftball and missed half the tosses – was swift and assured, even managing to make Uncle Aximili go on defense more times than naught.  And through it all, they were _laughing_ and teasing each other.  Both of them were acting like it was a game.  All the other fights were serious, but this … it wasn’t. 

For a second, I thought maybe Uncle Aximili was letting Father win, but when Father caught him in such an embarrassing hold and chided him for still keeping that side open even after all these years, the hope evaporated. 

It went on for ten minutes before Mother said, <All right, you two, that’s enough.>

<But Uncle Aximili might still be able to win,> Lithinon said hopefully.

Uncle Aximili laughed.  <I appreciate your support, little nephew, but your father has been toying with me.>

<I was doing no such thing,> Father said seriously, but he was smiling as Mayadria  and Valadia rushed to him, possibly to make sure he was okay.  I could dimly remember Mother telling them they had to stay put.  Maybe she had ended it because his sisters had not liked it anymore.  <I am fine, my little ones.>

<Yes, you were.  You let me get a quarter of those swipes.>

<I am old and feeble.  My reflexes are not what they once were.>

Uncle Aximili snorted.  <If only they weren’t.  I have lost face with my little nephews, haven’t I?>

I said, <No, you were very good!>  He had been, but my eyes were staring at Father, who had been better.

<Yes.  Even if you didn’t win,> Lithinon added.

The adults laughed and Father said, <I will take the girls to eat.>

<I don’t think you have a choice,> Mother said.  The twins were tight to his side. 

I watched my sisters and Father leave, but looked back at Uncle Aximili when he chuckled.  <I had forgotten how strenuous my brother’s training sessions were.  I think I stretched a muscle.>

Mother smiled.  <Boys.>

<Did Father really train you, Uncle Aximili?> Lithinon asked.

<He trained many _arisths_ , and I was one of them.  Your father is a natural tail fighter.>

<Who still practices when he thinks no one will see,> Mother sighed, but she was still amused.

<I thought he must be doing that,> Uncle Aximili agreed.  <Especially when he was winning.>

I frowned.  <Why doesn’t he teach us?>  It wasn’t fair!  Didn’t Father think he could learn?

<Because Grandmother would disapprove,> Mother said.

<If we asked Grandmother if he could, could he?>

Uncle Aximili gave a strange, sad smile.  <Little nephews, you do not want your father to train you.  He is very difficult.>

<I still want to learn,> I said firmly.

<Me too!>

But Mother spoke, <When you are older, maybe.  But you will have to accept if your father does not wish to teach you.>

<Why wouldn’t he?> Lithinon asked, while I felt hurt that Father wouldn’t want to do such a thing.  Didn’t he like us?  Or did he think we wouldn’t be good?

Uncle Aximili looked a little uncomfortable.  <You must not be hurt by it.  Your father does not like to remember his tenure in the War.>

Oh, the _War_.  It was a word no one talked about with Father, I knew that.  It had been over years before I had been born, but out of respect for Father’s wishes, no one talked about it.  Even none of the neighbors spoke about it.   All I knew was that both Father and Uncle Aximili had served during it.  Father retired after it, while Uncle Aximili – who was many years younger – kept the career because he was such a great warrior.  I wasn’t very interested in learning about something that wasn’t even going on nor had any connection to my life.  That was boring history, and who liked history?   

Lithinon and I looked at each other with mutual disappointment and anger.  <But you could teach us, couldn’t you, Uncle Aximili?> I asked.

<Not without your mother’s permission,> he smiled.

<Which you shan’t be getting,> Mother said.  <For I agree with your Grandmother: you both are too young.>

For the next hour, both of us tried to convince her that we weren’t, and it only ended when Father returned with the twins.  It was, after all, one thing to ask Mother to have permission so Father could do something he might not want to do, and another to ask Father to do something he might not want to do.

 ****

 

***~3 years later***

 ****

<Zefer, do you need some help?> Mother asked, Quwent peeking out from under her.

<No,> I lied, casting an eye around for Father or either of my grandparents.  Mother was terrible with helping with homework.  She never knew how to do anything, and she messed everything up.  I wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, so that way there would be nothing to prevent me from joining Father on a trip to the Port. 

<Are you sure?>

< _Yes_ ,> I said, hunching protectively over my work. 

<Okay,> she smiled before going to her console to work on her things.  She waved her tail low back and forth so Quwent would be amused jumping over it.

<You should have let Mother help you,> Lithinon said.

<Be quiet and do your own work,> I snapped.

<You think Mother is too stupid to do it, don’t you?>

I ignored him, focusing on my problem so hard that I was almost seeing through the data pad.

<You are so rotten,> Lithinon hissed, getting his own work.  <Think you’re so smart.  Mother could help you, she could.  She could do this.  I’ll show you.>

<No!> I yelled, blocking him with my tail.  Stupid Lithinon.  Why would he want to embarrass Mother like that, when everyone knows she can’t solve anything in our learning level?  <Leave Mother alone.>

<Go away.  You never think she can do anything, you never give her a chance.  You act like you’re ashamed of her.>

<Just don’t bother her,> I snapped, not wanting to answer the question because it made an ugly feeling in my hooves.  <You always bother her with stupid things.>

<At least I don’t ignore me.  Let me through!>

<Hey, you two, you’re supposed to be doing your homework,> Mother scolded sharply, rushing up.  <What’s going on?>

<Zefer wouldn’t let me ask you for help,> Lithinon said, glaring at me.

<Zefer, if your brother needs help, you let him get it,> she said. 

I felt so very angry.  <Then why should he go to you?  You can’t ever solve any of the problems!>  And then I wished I hadn’t when Mother’s expression turned from angry to hurt, and Lithinon almost attacked me.  Even Quwent, so in tune with Mother’s emotions, was upset.

And then I _really_ wished I had kept my thoughts to myself, when Father’s very deep, angry voice called my name, and I cowered in mute terror at seeing him glaring at me.   <You will apologize to your mother immediately, and you will come with me.>

Even Lithinon, smirking, shot me a pitying look after I mumbled the apology and went to face Father.  If he said I wasn’t going to go with him to the Port, I was going to be lucky.  But it would be what I deserved, for speaking like I did.

I glanced up fearfully at Father, whose stalk was on me.  Even that looked angry. 

He wasn’t going to forbid me from joining him from going to the Port.  He was going to _kill_ me.

 ****

I looked around eagerly from the hover craft.  There were so many Andalites below them!  So many.  And so many others in hovercrafts around us! 

<Enjoying yourself?> Father asked, smiling.

I beamed, looking up with my stalk eyes, but I couldn’t my his main eyes off the other sites.  I was very glad Father hadn’t remained upset and refused to take me after my terrible behavior.  (And I had a feeling I was only allowed to come along because Mother had convinced him.  I still felt a terrible shame from what I had said, and even more that Mother would do this for me even after I said that terrible thing.  I didn’t know what I could do to make it up to her.)  <There are so many Andalites!  And so busy!  Are we going to get lost?>

Father laughed.  <No.  I am very familiar with this port.  Do you see that domed-building?  That is where we must go.>

It was the biggest building in the area.  <What’s there?>

<Just boring offices and meeting places.  It is where the Council meets.>

I gasped.  The leaders of their world?!  <Are we going to see them?>

Father gave a little smile and didn’t answer, and I noticed we were landing.  Ohh, wait until I told everyone about this at home!  And soon I would come here, be a student!  In only an Andalite year!

<Can we see the Academy?>

<That eager to leave us?> Father smiled.  <We shall fly over it later.  Later in the year we will make a formal visit, sooner to your attendance.>

I could accept the promise, because Father made it, and he didn’t lie.  <Lithinon won’t have to come, will he?>  It was only because Lithinon would rather go to a friend’s party that he had not joined us on this trip.  My sisters were too young, and little Quwent could not – or would not – go anywhere without Mother.

<I believe Lithinon will be spending his academic time at another part of the Port, but yes, he will.  But I will take you to the Academy,> he promised. 

Even though it wasn’t an admission of favoritism – I wasn’t going to pretend Father wouldn’t also take Lithinon to the science buildings – it made me beam with pride. 

The landing was light and without any turbulence – Father seemed to land better than any of the other flyers – and I jumped off without even waiting for Father’s permission, eagerly looking around.  <Do stay close, Zefer.  Your mother and grandparents would never forgive me if I return without you.  It is bad enough that in a year I will have to.>

I ignored him, eyes darting around and trying to take everything in.  True, there were less trees and open space, but the trees were beautifully managed and the awning curved just so.  Overhead crafts whizzed by, private transports and _ships_.  And _everyone_ was rushing, busy.  There were Andalite _estreens_ entertaining and tail fighters giving exhibitions and music and …

<Zefer, come along.>

I could barely pay attention to Father, but whenever I trailed beyond what he felt comfortable, there was always the gentle call.  And sometimes Father would explain some site or point out something I would have completely missed.  It didn’t seem like any time until we were at the huge building.  There were even more Andalites here, coming and going.

Inside, I looked at the arching walls that separated the area, the ramps and lifts that would take us to other areas, and I wondered how we could know where to go, even with the directions.  Would we have to ask?

<Zefer.>

I looked up at Father, eager.

<I am going to leave you in the gift shop so you can pick things out for our family.>

At the pronouncement, I drooped my stalks and kicked my hooves.  Father smiled.

<Believe me, there is nothing very interesting beyond there.  I will have to speak to several officials about Quwent and fill out forms, and I have to report to several offices.  It will be very boring for you.  It will be very boring for _me_. >

I still wasn’t pleased with the prospect, but I had to admit that none of what Father said sounded very fun.  <Will you be long?>

<It depends.  The Gift shop minders will watch you and help you with anything.  Would you like me to take you there?>

I shuddered at the thought.  I wasn’t a little Andalite anymore.  <I will be fine.  I will find the best gifts.>

<Yes.  You will.  Go, now.>  Father pointed and then watched – as if I was a little baby! – until I was safely at the large maze of awning before he left.  Part of walls had holographic views of the country, pretending it really wasn’t closed in.

I looked at everything but was surprised when the ship minder spoke to me.  <Do you know who you were speaking to?>  There was awe in his voice.

Blinking, I couldn’t think of a response that wasn’t rude or stupid-sounding.  Yes, that was Father. 

A patron quickly answered, <You were speaking to War-Prince Elfangor!>

<… Yes?>  There was nothing special about speaking to Father!

The minder snorted.  <Young today!  They don’t know anything.  Don’t you know who War-Prince Elfangor is?  I wonder why he is here.>

I had a feeling admitting that had been Father would have made me look very stupid, if they were making such a scene about Father being himself.  <He … ummm … he came here to tell about Quwent …>  They wouldn’t know that.

<Who is Quwent?>

<His son.  He was born a few weeks ago.>

The patron laughed.  <How many is that for him, four?  He certainly is repopulating Andalites.>

I frowned at someone forgetting one of his siblings.  <Five.  He said,> I added quickly, realizing I couldn’t be so insolent. 

<You certainly learned a lot about him,> the minder said, giving me a look.

<He told me where the gift shop was.  My father is to report about my little brother.>  I hoped this wasn’t lying. 

They seemed to accept that explanation.

Curiosity brimming, I shifted before hesitatingly asking, <Is F – War-Prince Elfangor very important?>

The patron laughed.  <You will learn all about him when you learn about military history, if you are ever in my class.>

<Why?>

There was mutual sighing about the education about the young today, but the patron continued, <War-Prince Elfangor, aside from being one of the greatest warriors in military history, played a role in ending hostilities between Andalites and Yeerks.  Some even say he was responsible for ending the War itself.>

My eyestalks stretched.  <He never said that!>  I knew he was in the War, but he never said he made it end!

The minder tutted.  <He wouldn’t go showing his blade honors to you, little one.  A proper Andalite, he is, humble about his actions.>

<And War-Prince Elfangor is a brilliant tactician and leader.  He led humans, human children, after he was stranded on Earth for over a year,> the teacher continued.  <He was also one of the best fighter pilots.  His little brother, the Great Captain Aximili, even cannot come close, though Captain Aximili is a far better diplomat.>

Uncle Aximili?  Well, I always knew he was a great military hero – that was why I was joining the Academy, after all, to be like Uncle Aximili – but it was strange to hear Father and Uncle Aximili spoken in such … awe.  Our neighbors did not treat them like this!  I wanted to hear more.  <My uncle said … said he had tail-fighting lessons under Prince Elfangor.>  It was difficult to call Father that.  <Said he hurt his tail a lot.  But he didn’t say he was important.>

Both of them laughed.  <They say War-Prince Elfangor was tough on his _arisths_ , but he had a higher ratio of them survive to the end of the War,> the patron said.  <They also say he had the worst temper with them.>

The temper I could agree with.  While it took a while, once it was raised – like prior to our leaving – sometimes all I wanted to do was hide under one of the other adults, even if I was older.  Father could look so terrifying.

<What else?> I asked, turning to the teacher.

The patron looked at me, amused.  <You should actually open a databank!  I am very ashamed of your parents for not teaching you about one of our heroes.>

The minder smiled.  <He has a soft spot for humans and Earth.>

<He is loyal to Andalites,> the teacher said sharply.  <He merely favors the ones he led.>

<Why isn’t he still in the military, if he’s such a hero?> I asked, realizing the current topic wasn’t going to be productive.

<He served his tenure,> the teacher sniffed, but the minder gave a look.

<They crucified him and you know it.  Everyone does.>

<Knows what?>  I didn’t.

<War-Prince Elfangor left service because the Council didn’t like him,> the minder said bluntly.  <He ruffled too much fur being honest.  It was either leave quietly with some honor, or disgrace himself and his family in a long, drawn-out hearing.  It is a blessing those Andalites are not on Council anymore.>

<He did break many laws,> the teacher pointed out, but it was not with much rancor. 

<Some say that his actions are restricted as punishment,> the minder continued.  <He cannot leave the planet without permission or speak publically.  He cannot write his experiences nor give interviews.>

<Maybe he doesn’t want to,> I said uneasily, remembering when Lithinon and I tried to get him to come with us to Zoo on _Ala_.  Everyone else’s parents went, but he stayed home with the twins.  Did he just not go because of these restrictions, instead of not wanting to spend time at the Zoo?

<Maybe, maybe not.>

I didn’t like that, and my mind was reeling with all of this new information.  And suddenly I was remembering walking with Father into the City, how so many Andalites had looked at us, pointed at us.  It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder why, but now … was it because Father was this … War-Prince Elfangor?  This hero?

<I should find gifts before my father comes,> I said awkwardly, and I disappeared into the awnings, but not before hearing the minder wonder if War-Prince Elfangor would come to get a toy for his new little one.

At that question, my stomach sunk into his hooves.  They would see who my father was, and they would see I didn’t know anything about my own parent!  Suddenly I wondered if Mother had a secret life I wasn’t aware of too.  No.  She was Mother!

Desperate for some other distraction, I looked at the toys and gifts.  Lithinon was easy.  He would like a science thing, preferably chemical, and I found a kit that made short-lived isotopes that eventually would turn into either glowing, shifting crystals or explosions.  His parents wouldn’t like it, but Lithinon would adore it. 

Mayadria would like a craft kit.  She liked making things, but she also liked animals.  It took me a while, but I found a set that let her put together a small toy creature that could approximate life-like actions.  I didn’t like it – it was so very girly and young – but I knew Mayadria  would love it.

Valadria was more difficult.  She wasn’t very girly and, despite her age, could tail-fight better than a lot of the boys I knew, or at least with more zeal.  She was little and fast and quick, and knew how to use her size to her advantage.  And she liked rough sports and taking apart things so she could watch Father or Grandfather put them back together again.  Grandmother despaired of her being a proper female.  Mother just laughed.  It took a while, and I tried to choose between a new tail ball or an electronic robot.  She might remove a stalk from her head if I picked the ball, but the robot would probably be taken apart within an hour.  I nearly was going to let Father decide before I saw a strange set where one put things together to make a variety of contraptions, and I picked that.  Perhaps she could learn to put things together, instead.

Quwent was the easiest.  I found a soft toy with long legs, arms, eye stalks, and tail.  My littlest brother would like that.

Though I wasn’t sure I was supposed to, I looked for gifts for my grandparents.  They were easy as well.  I found a nice plant for Grandmother and there was a selection of music Grandfather would like. 

Choosing something for Mother was going to be difficult.  It had to be something very special, something that said I was really sorry and she was a wonderful mother and that I loved her and that I really wanted to thank her for talking Father into letting me still come along.  I was looking at the geodes when I heard the minder greet Father.  <War-Prince Elfangor!  Welcome!  Can I help you today?>

I ducked down.  Now I was going to get caught and they would know I was so very, very stupid.  (Lithinon was right.)

Father’s voice was patient.  <Thank you.  I’m looking for my son.>

<Son?>

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out and tried to avoid the minder’s stunned gaze.  And I was a little surprised to see the teacher still there.

<This is your son?> the teacher said, stuttering.

Father gave them a strange look.  <Have you found everything, Zefer?>  I moved his stalks and pointed at a small pile, and Father smiled.  <I see you found things for your grandparents as well.>

<I haven’t found something for Mother yet,> I mumbled.

<I will find something.  Bring them to the minder, please.>

I shrank a little.  The adults were giving me a scolding look, but I obeyed, avoiding their gazes.  In a few minutes, Father joined us with a small orb.  Inside was a small seed, but I didn’t know what the gift was.  I never would have picked it for Mother.

<A nice choice, War-Prince Elfangor,> the minder said.  <Your mate will be pleased by it.>

<Thank you.  I hope she shall.>

<We were not aware this was your son,> the minder said pointedly, and I shrank.

Father tilted his stalks but didn’t respond.  <Thank you for minding him,> he said, taking the woven bag.  <May the day be good, for both of you.>

There was a look, and I repeated the bidding, and was beyond grateful when we left.

<Did something happen while you were inside, Zefer?> Father asked, putting the bag over his shoulder.

<No.  No,> I said quickly.

<Zefer,> he said, a bit of concern.

<They just saw me with you before you left.>

<And they did not assume you were my son?>

I waved his eye stalks and was glad when Father didn’t continue questioning me. 

 ****

Everyone loved their gifts – I learned that Father’s gift was a seed for an Earth flower called a rose – but once the adults were away, I drew my siblings to him to tell him everything I had learned.  Even Quwent, loving his new toy, followed. 

The others were just as surprised as I was.  (Well, except Quwent, who didn’t understand anything except he had a new toy to show everyone – but not to let them actually play with.)  But eventually they demanded I tell about the Port.  Information about Father didn’t seem very important to them, but it made me uncertain. 

So uncertain that I went into the database and looked up Father’s name.  And then blinked in surprise at everything that came up.  Randomly, I picked one, and there, there was Father being decorated.  Another, and there was the reports of his bravery.  I found a section about his career, and I was spell-bound at the length and honors. 

<What are you doing, Zefer-pen?> Grandfather asked, and I was so startled he jumped.

<Nothing!>

Grandfather gave me an amused look.  <What are you reading on that pad with such intensity?  You can tell me.>

I struggled to find words, but there was a sense of betrayal in me.  <Why didn’t Father ever tell us he was an important war hero?  Why didn’t _anyone_? >

My elder raised his stalks in surprise.  <So you learned about that, did you?  What have you found out?>

<He stopped the Yeerks on Earth!  He stopped the War.  And he got honors and ….>

Grandfather waved his tail and looked at me.  <Zefer-pen, come with me.  I want to show you something.>

Uncertain, I followed Grandfather to one of the awnings, and then watched as he withdrew a box.  <Open it.>

I gasped at all of the honors and medals.

<These are all your father’s,> Grandfather said needlessly.  <That box is for your uncle’s,> he said, indicating another. 

<Why …?>

<Your father left that life behind him,> he said.  <Do you think these things matter to him?  He wished to start a different life, and he did.  With your mother and you and your siblings.>

<But why didn’t he tell me?  Us?> I corrected quickly.

Grandfather shut the box with his tail and pushed it back inside.  <To your father, these are not important.>

<But he was a hero!  The best fighter, leader, tail fighter – >

He laughed.  <Perhaps he was. I cannot say I am not proud he earned those honors.  But there comes a time in an Andalite’s life when he wants more.  Your father wanted a family.>

<They said the Council made him retire,> I said, frowning.

<They did.> Grandfather was surprised at my knowledge.  <I would not deny it.  And I cannot say your father wished it.  But that isn’t to say he liked the life he found himself in.  There is more to life, Zefer, than being a hero.  Your father knew that, even before he retired.  He will not even say he was a hero.  He was doing his duty.  That is all.>

I couldn’t understand any of this.  Who didn’t want to be a hero?

Grandfather sighed.  <We do not speak about the War here, and our neighbors respect that.  Your father asked that of us.  Perhaps because he wanted everyone to see him for himself, not just as a hero to the People.

<Perhaps you should speak with your father about this,> Grandfather continued.  <So he may explain himself.>

<Maybe.>  I dug a hoof in.  <Mother isn’t a hero, too, is she?>

<Yes, she is,> Grandfather said sharply.  <Your mother is one of the bravest beings I know.  She may not have the notoriety of your father, but do not doubt it – she sacrificed much to be here, maybe even more than your father.>

<I didn’t mean …> I faltered and looked down.

Grandfather touched my tail with a light tap.  <It has been a difficult day for you, Zefer-pen.  You have learned a lot you never realized you didn’t know.  But you must remember – your parents, and grandparents, did not magically appear when you were born.  We all have our prides and paid prices.>

<Yes, Grandfather.>

 ****

<Your grandfather said you might have something to ask me,> Father said the next day.  I looked up from my datapad.  I was still desperately reading about Father’s life.  There had been nothing on Mother, but Father …

<Like what?>

<Zefer,> Father sighed, closing his main eyes and rubbing his forehead.  <It is about the minder and the other shopper, isn’t it?  They said something about me.>

<Yes.>

<And you have been digging into my history.  And do not deny it.  The main consoles show your access.>

Oh.  I had forgotten about those.

<I’m not upset you’re doing it,> Father continued.  <Though I am hurt you would not come to me.>

<You did not tell us!> I retorted, hotly.  <They were saying you were a great hero and I did not even know it!  About my own father!>

<And does knowing my history change how you think about me?>

<No.  Yes.  No.>  I was confused, because it did, but it didn’t.

Father smiled.  <I have been retired for many years.  That part of my life is behind me.>

<But you were a great hero.  Greater than Uncle Aximili.>

<Doubtful.  I was merely doing my duty and got lucky.>  He sighed.  <Zefer, you’ve been reading about the war, but you do not realize what the time was like, and I hope you never have to.  We Andalites lost almost a quarter of our population.  It started before I was born and did not end until I was your Uncle Aximili’s age.  It wasn’t like stories of grand battles and honor.  It was dark and dangerous.  I lost many good friends.  I was not a hero.  I was only someone who survived, who was in the right place at the right time.>

I wanted to argue, but I felt the sadness and despair from Father and I couldn’t.  <I don’t understand.  You were a hero,> I mumbled, looking down.

<You’ll understand when you’re older, if you’re terribly unlucky,> Father said.  <But I will explain my life, what I can.  Come, let’s run, and you can ask your questions.  If I can answer, perhaps you will understand then.>

 ****

Like Lithinon and I had done at Uncle Aximili’s first visit, we were waiting for the ship to come into site, except this time there were far more of us trying to play driftball.  It was males versus females, which was fair because we had Quwent and Mayadria and Valadria were very competitive and fast, faster than Lithinon and me, which was not fair.  Father never really put much effort into the game – I knew he was only pretending to be really bad – and usually stayed near Quwent to prevent my littlest brother from getting hurt.  Mother was a good player too, and, unless she had pretended to be bad as well when we were younger, had greatly improved her aim.

Father had slowed a ball to Quwent, who protectively covered it with his hands.  (Illegal, but he was little, and we wouldn’t have tried to steal it from him.)  <Mine!>

<Kick it to me,> Lithinon chanted, trying to get around Mayadria.

<Right here, Quwent,> I suggested.

<No, give it to me,> Valadria said.

<Me!>

<Come on, sweetie, kick the ball,> Mother coaxed.  <You can do it.>

Quwent giggled and looked between us, trying to decide over our yells.  He wouldn’t be able to kick it far, so whomever he kicked it to, it would be an easy steal.  However, instead of kicking it, he picked it up and rushed to Mother, and all of us were laughing when he held it awkwardly up and cheered.  <Ball for you!>

<You’re on our team!> Lithinon scolded.

<We have a double agent,> Father smiled.

<That’s right, he’s our little spy,> Mother said, tapping the ball and knocking it into an open area, making all of us run after it, even Quwent.

No one was very surprised that Quwent switched sides, usually only giving the ball to one of our parents, but he eventually went to lay down and nap in the suns. 

We males were two points in the lead when Uncle Aximili’s vehicle came into view, and I was secretly glad he arrived when he did.  I was exhausted and Lithinon almost collapsed, while the twins were circling the ship.  Father noticed our state and winked at us. 

<Timing is everything, isn’t it?  Girls, please allow your uncle to land without crushing you.>

<We’d hate to have you damage his ship,> Mother added, waking Quwent.

Uncle Aximili landed and disembarked, greeting Valadria and Mayadria with as much enthusiasm, and Lithinon and I joined them with our own greetings.  When Mother arrived with Quwent, my little brother just stared up at him in awe, hugging Mother’s leg. 

<So you are stuck with us for these months?> Father sighed.  <This scoop gets smaller each day.>

<You did not miss me?> Uncle Aximili asked.

<We did!> all of us children said.

<Enforced shore leave, poor Ax.  Now you have to answer to your mother,> Mother teased, <instead of bossing everyone else around.>

<My brother would never let me order him around, the stubborn old goat.>

My eyes widened at the term while my sisters giggled.  <Father is not a goat,> Lithinon said.

<Thank you, Lithinon.  At least someone comes to my defense.>

<Ax was right for two of out three, dear,> Mother smiled.  <Come on, Ax, your parents are waiting.>

<They didn’t want to play driftball,> Valadria said.

<Do you play driftball, Uncle Aximili?> Mayadria said.

<I would love the chance to play again.  I haven’t in many years.>

 ****

All of the adults knew a secret, I could tell.  We all could tell, all of us children.  Adults weren’t nearly as secretive as they thought they were.  Uncle Aximili was very eager about something, and so was Mother.  Grandfather and Grandmother were excited but unsure.  Father was the only one who seemed less than eager with everything, and that only made Mother and Uncle Aximili tease him.

Uncle Aximili and Father had to go into the Ports several times on business.  What, they wouldn’t say, except that it dealt with Uncle Aximili’s ship.  I wondered if Father was going to become active in the military again, maybe serve on Uncle Aximili’s ship.  At first, the thought made me giddy, before I realized that it meant Father would not be here at all.  Several of my friends had one or both parents who were constantly away on their jobs, and had to be under the care of their grandparents.  While I love my grandparents, it was not more than my parents.  I did not want to lose Father, to only see him on the video screen, not after having him always be around all my life.

But if that was what was going to happen … that was what was going to happen.  I had to be strong for my siblings, because they looked to me.  But part of me felt the bitter sting that maybe Father wouldn’t be able to give me a tour of the Academy, and he _promised to_ ….

I didn’t ask, but the others did, to no effect.  The two adults disappeared and reappeared after varying lengths, and all of us, even Quwent, took to watching for their arrival.  One time, after Father and Uncle Aximili had been away almost a month, Father let himself get dragged into the fields by Valadria and Mayadria, and Lithinon and I followed.  Quwent followed all of us.

<Why do you keep leaving with Uncle Aximili?> Mayadria asked.

<There is business we must deal with.  It is very important.>

<What?>

<It is a surprise.  You shall find out soon.>  He let his hands get grabbed by Quwent and managed to lift my little brother up several inches.  Father must have been one of the strongest Andalites in the world, because Andalite arms have hardly any strength, and even if he was little, Quwent was very heavy.  Quwent laughed at the treatment.

<Don’t you miss us at all?> Valadria asked, pouting.

<Of course I do, I miss all of you,> he smiled.  <But you are always with me.  You are part of me.  For instance, I think little Quwent is my hands.  Up up.>

<And what am I?> Valadria asked over Quwent’s cheers and pleas for more.

<You and your sister are my eyes.  A pair and yet separate.>

<Me?> Lithinon asked eagerly.

<My legs.  Always standing for what’s right and solid.  And Zefer,> he looked at me, <my tail.  Without each of you, I wouldn’t be whole.>

Even though Father was just being silly, I felt very proud to be the _tail_. 

<What is Uncle Aximili?> Mayadria asked.

Father appeared to think about that.  <My fur.>

<Your fur?> Valadria laughed.

<I do keep losing him, but he keeps coming back,> Father said.

<Grandmother and Grandfather!> Lithinon challenged.

<My lungs and hearts, which give me life.  And you mother, she is my … _katra_. >  He grinned at the foreign term, amused at some hidden meaning.

<What does that mean?> I asked.

Father smiled and stroked Quwent’s ears.  <I think, when it comes down to it, you all are what makes me an Andalite.  But your mother, she allows me to have and be everything.  Oh, all right, once more, ready, up up, and then we are going to eat.  Yes, we are.>

 ****

We’d had to take the two hover crafts to the ports, because all ten of us were not going to fit in one.  Now we were all trying to get to Uncle Aximili’s ship.  We were all paired up.  I had to watch Grandfather; Father, Quwent; Lithinon, Mother; Valadria, Uncle Aximili; and Mayadria, Grandmother.  That way no one lost each other.  There was some very big surprise for us, and I wondered if it was that Uncle Aximili maybe got a new ship and there was going to be a big ceremony and party.

Or Father was going away.

The Port was, if possible, even more crowded than when I had visited last time.  Andalites were rushing around, and then stopping to stare and whisper at Father and Uncle Aximili.  My siblings were scared, and I made sure to make it look like this was nothing dangerous.  Quwent wasn’t assuaged, and Father ended up carrying him.  He must have expected it, since he had a sling to help hold Quwent’s weight, because as strong as Father was, there was no way he could hold my brother for long.

They finally came in front of the great Dome ship.  There was even a larger crowd, and I thought some much have been reporters.  There were even _humans_ there, talking with other Andalites and taking pictures.  It was remarkable.  Remarkably scary.

Even Grandfather, Grandmother, and Mother looked a bit nervous.  Uncle Aximili and Father ignored everything, staring straight ahead, behind, and to a slow side sweep.  How did they do that?

Once in front of front the ship, a group of Andalites – was that someone from the _Council_?!  They were talking to us!  Well, not to me or my siblings, but to us.  They were talking about a ceremony, some big thing, but there were so many others speaking I couldn’t understand the conversation.  What was going on?

Mother and my grandparents made us stand to the side with them, but Quwent refused to come out from under Father or let go of his leg and Father finally said to let him be.  I met Lithion’s, Valadria’s, and Mayadria’s gazes, and we all huddled between the adults, wondering when we’d find out what was going on.

The Council members finally called for silence, and it was rippled down the crowd all the way out, further than I could see.  Everyone was staring at us, transmissions recording to other citizens, other worlds.  Everyone was watching this.  They could see _me!_

I straightened myself up and tried to look poised, held my tail just a little higher, just like Father and Uncle Aximili. 

However, my gaze snapped forward and all my poise was shot when I heard the Council member talk about the ceremony.

<We’re going to Earth?!> Valadria screeched, but just to us.

I could only stare at Father.  They were letting him off the planet?

At first, the reason might have mattered, but I was only glad Father finally got that right back.

 ****

I tried to be proper on the Dome Ship, to not embarrass Uncle Aximili or my family, but it was so difficult with four younger siblings.  They kept dragging me into playing games, and I almost ran it the Head of Council!  I had to go hide in our rooms until the shame went away.  There were so many important Andalites on the ship, and there were humans.  The humans always tried to talk, but Father told us not to, but we could get our pictures taken if we wanted.  Mother even talked us into getting a family portrait with everyone in it.

We didn’t see much of Uncle Aximili, since he had to Captain his ship.  Father usually stayed into the quarters, annoyed at the crowds and not wanting to make a scene when his temper finally gave way. 

<Don’t you want to be able to go to Earth?> I asked him while he read one of his favorite Earth novels, in the native language.  They had sent our things ahead early.  Even though parents couldn’t keep a secret really secret, they apparently could be very sneaky.

<Not like this, Zefer.  Not with ceremonies and speeches.>  He looked up.  <It will be twenty-five Earth years since the War ended.  The humans enjoy anniversaries with numbers that end in zero and five, and the bigger the more important.  They wanted a ceremony, and they wanted everyone alive to be present.  They did want it five years ago, but couldn’t manage the plan.  But they got it this time, and I got my freedom so I could look like a fool pretending to be a hero.>  He shook his stalks and went back to his reading.

I leaned on my hooves, unsure.  <Fools can be heroes too.  Grandfather says _Veyoup_ is a hero. >  _Veyoup_ was Grandfather’s favorite character, because he was so foolish and did great things without ever realizing it.  Father always was amused when Grandfather talked about that character, and Grandfather always such a huge smile his eyes glowed.  It was some private joke that I didn’t understand, but it always made Father happy.

It worked, and I smiled when Father smiled.  <And as you know, _Veyoup_ is a very big fool.>

 ****

There were so many humans, I was glad when I saw Tobias and his family, humans I recognized.  I let Megan hug me and then pretended to be interested when other humans were introduced.  There was a very loud and talkative human named Marco, who called all of us “ _soooooooo cute_ ,” a dark female named Cassie who asked a lot of strange questions to my siblings, and a quiet dark-haired man who, if I had to, I would have would felt most comfortable standing next to because he didn’t talk too much.  However, I could talk with Megan, and that was what I’d rather do.  She told me everything that was going on.

“There’s going to be a big party after all this,” she said.  “All week it’s been really, really busy.  Dad’s been going every way.”

<Is he angry?>

Megan shrugged.  “He doesn’t want to do all this, it’s silly, he says.  But Marco says it is important, so we did. And then everyone wanted you to come too!  You should have seen the TV.  Dad sometimes turned it off, but your dad had a _special_ on him!”

I wasn’t sure if Father would like that, or that I’d get a chance to watch it without Father knowing or approving.  <What is going to happen here?> I asked, looking around the human place.  There were hardly any trees around.  How could humans live in areas like this?  Even with an Andalite-blue sky – which was very, very strange – and only green grass, this world was so very … inorganic.

“This is just a welcome thing, with just us.  The big ceremony is not for a few days, and that’s when _everyone_ will be there.  It will be in _Elfangor Park_.”  She giggled at my shock.  “There’s a _huge_ statue of your dad in the middle.  Dad said the park is where your dad landed.”

<Really?>  Even if I knew Father wouldn’t like it, I wanted to see this park.  I wondered how big the statue was, what material it was, how high off the ground it was, what kind of plants were around it, how the sun fell on it.

“You’re going to stay at our house.  We have a _big_ yard.  And you can see my room and stuff.  It’ll be lots of fun!”

I smiled, though I wasn’t sure exactly how much fun I could have at a human’s house.  The pictures I had seen didn’t make a very hospitable impression.  Looking around at the chatting humans and the proper Andalites kept me from having to lie.  Aside from a few small groups, there was a very firm divide between the two.  Father and Uncle Aximili were next to three humans, and they seemed a pleasant bunch.  Mother was talking with Georgie, with my grandparents awkwardly near but speaking with some of the Council members.  Mina, a dark-skinned girl that could have been Cassie’s daughter, and a few other human children were playing with my siblings.

<Where did your father go?> I asked, noticing the lack of familiar face.

“Dad has to run everything, Mom says.  Oh, oh, there he is!  That’s Mrs. Baltimore, she’s like a reporter.  She’s really nice.  Dad says she’s a surprise.”

Knowing what a reporter was and that Father was forbidden to speak to them, I watched with anger and worry as the pair approached Father.  How could this turn out even slightly pleasant?  Human reporters were infamous even on my world as being terribly impolite, prone to making scenes, and making up things that were never said.

Tobias brought her up, grinning, right to Father, and the other humans stopped speaking, just as confused as Father and Uncle Aximili.

“When I met Mrs. Baltimore, I realized instantly she was an old friend of ours,” I heard Tobias say, and without conscious thought, I was getting closer.  Megan followed.

Father was giving Tobias a look before giving his full attention to the human female, frowning in concentration.  The other humans and Uncle Aximili were the same.

“You probably don’t remember me,” she smiled, holding a clipboard.

“I’d remember you,” Marco pronounced, all white teeth, “I’m sure.”

“You’re married,” Jake muttered.  Did humans often forget that?  “Remember Stella.”

Father was still staring at the human, and I wondered if he was going to remember.  Twenty-five years was a long time.  But then Father smiled.  <Lynn, wasn’t it?>

“You remembered!” the woman, Lynn, said, clearly surprised.

“Who?” Marco asked.

“I’m not surprised _you_ don’t remember me,” Lynn said.

“Lynn, Lynn,” Cassie said, hoping to jog a memory.

<The wedding,> Uncle Aximili exclaimed.

Marco made a strange face, while Jake and Cassie laughed.  Lynn smiled.  “I made that bad of an impression, then?” she asked Father.

<I was in contact with very few humans, even fewer I don’t remember when others do,> Father said, with a notable glance at Tobias.  <But yes, you were an impression, a very pleasant one.  I should be more honored that you remember me.>

Lynn laughed, turning red.  “I was convinced I was going to marry you – or at least Alan Fangor – until I was ten, which was when I finally accepted you weren’t human.  But Bradley, my husband, still feels threatened.”

<You may let him know I am pleased in my circumstances, to no offense to you.>

The group continued on to the conversation, and I listened, curious at the glimpse of Father’s past and the crush the human admitted having on him.  Tobias’ wife soon joined them, but Mother first approached me.

<What do you think of my competition?> she said.

<Father does not want her.  He said so,> I quickly assuaged.

Mother laughed.  <Yes, I know, but sometimes the contestants don’t care what the prize thinks.  She was only a little younger that Valadria and Mayadria, but I don’t doubt she thought your father was a fairy tale prince.  He danced with her in a very important dance, and you know he was a Prince at that time.  It was very adorable.>

<You saw it?> I asked, confused.

<Yes.  If you ask Tobias later, I’m sure he still has the picture.  You can see your father in his human morph, dancing with the little girl.>

Megan, next to me, nodded.  “I know that picture, I think!  There’s a big one in the attic. She’s wearing a pink dress.  Is that really Elfangor as a human?”

<If it’s the picture I think, then yes.  He was quite handsome, wasn’t he?>

My eyes focused on Mother and her statement as Megan giggled.  I couldn’t image Father has a human, and I didn’t know if I wanted to, but I nodded dumbly when Megan promised to show me the picture.  Earth seemed to have a lot of secrets about Father, and maybe Mother, or at least things I didn’t know.  I knew I didn’t know everything about my parents’ lives before I was born – I was very, very aware of that – but here, for this ceremony, I wondered if I wanted to really know.  Father as a human, even in morph, was such a foreign concept that I wanted to deny it, to denounce it as unnatural.  To know humans, even a little girl, had had romantic feelings, was even creepier.  Maybe I had a false image of Father, but it was comfortable and, until I knew the truth, it was the Truth.  But false or not, it was my image. 

I was afraid that, even if I didn’t look for answers, they’d find me, and everything would get stripped away. 

 ****

Because it was raining, there were very few humans out from under the shelters in the main part of the park.  I had slipped away, to get out of the crowds as well as to examine the central statue without an audience.  It was getting darker, and there was a very large single white moon coming in the sky when the clouds let it appear.   Humans had never properly named their sun and moon, which just showed how very different our two species were.  Most of the humans were complaining that it was raining!  Didn’t they understand the very important part rain played in everything?

The human park – _Elfangor_ park – was not the best by _Andalite_ standards, but by humans, it may have been.  Father said years ago it had been a construction site, but that this was a much better improvement.  It was very large and had play things were human children.  Megan pointed out swings, slides, jungle gyms, teeter-totters, and something that made humans throw up if they stayed on the rotating disk too long.  Megan said that was the best one, and I think that meant I was very much in error about the pleasures of human vomiting.  There were many paths and several flower beds arranged in colorful display.

In the center was the statue, and I approached it timidly, keeping an eye back to make sure no one noticed I was missing.  I stopped about ten feet away and just stared, and a bird called a pigeon that had been sitting on his left stalk flew away.

It did look like Father, albeit a bit younger, elevated on a high step and surrounded by a fountain with human metal monies in the water.  Quwent had instantly pointed at it and demanded explanation, and later had to be pulled down when he attempted to examine it closer.  The statue was made out of a dark metal, and Father was not standing dramatically at all.  He was just … standing, tail high and ready to turn whichever direction he needed to, much like he usually did.  It wasn’t a large statue, perhaps only a little bigger than Father.

Looking at it, I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed in it or still impressed.  Yes, Father had a memorial statue of his honors, but it was not very … memorable.  I had seen other statues of famous Andalites, and they were always so much more heroic.  Was it because humans had made this, and to them, this was dramatic?

I walked slowly around the statue, examining it from all angles, looking for flaws or something.  Behind the statue of Father, slightly to the left, was another statue, this time of a human male.  He was sitting steps, elbows on his knees, hands low and fingers interlocked, the feet almost in the water, and smiling vaguely.  After being told, I knew it was supposed to be Father in his human morph.  Because of the medium, it was difficult to tell if it did look like the pictures Tobias had shown me.  All I could decide was the, if this had been Father as a human, he appeared kind and approachable. 

Still, the idea of Father being human didn’t settle in me kindly, and I wondered why they even had to include his human morph in the statue.  Father was an Andalite; the human was just a morph, it wasn’t real. 

Moving again to come to the front of the statue, I very nearly stumbled in surprise to see Father present, and he gave me a strange sort of smile.  <Do you find it an appropriate likeness, Zefer?> he asked, looking at the statue with his main eyes.

<Yes.  It’s a … nice statue,> I said awkwardly.

<It is a ridiculous one, you mean, unnecessary.  A statue of the children would have been more appropriate, but my opinion wasn’t asked.>

I frowned at him for deflecting his great part in stopping the War, saving Earth.  Maybe the humans had helped but I was sure Father did most of the work.  <Maybe they should have made both,> I offered.

<The problem with that, is that humans don’t want statues of human children as saviors, and the children don’t want them either.  So they pick me.  Not to say that the children do not have statues somewhere, but they are not here.>

<Why did they put your human morph on?> I demanded.  <It’s not you.>

He blinked, startled at my logical question.  <I could not say, not exactly,> he said slowly.  <It may make it more approachable, if humans see my human form.  And I am not ashamed to have it included.  I was not ashamed of being human.  I did not want to be human,> he added before I could protest, <but that does not negate that I did find enjoyment in it.>

It was almost a shameful admission.  How could Father have _liked_ being a human, even if it was pretend and only for a few hours? 

<Did you _really_ land here? >

Father smiled and looked around.  <Each time I come to Earth, I seem to start here.  And each time it changes.  It used to be a forest.  And then it was a construction site.  And now it is … this.>

<You came a really long time ago, too?>

<One of my very first missions dealt with humans.  They have plagued me, some more than others.>  He was looking at the group we had left, and I thought he was looking at Tobias speaking with Mother.  <The interesting thing … the statue is not _exactly_ where I landed when I met the children, but it is significant. >

<How so?>

<That is my secret,> he said lightly, and I tried not to pout.  Father caught it.  <I suppose, Zefer, it is here that I always remember that, just because some stories may be fairy tales, it does not mean they cannot be true.  Perhaps it is appropriate the humans placed this monstrosity here, then.>

<Do you really not like the statue?>

<I could be pleased without its existence, but, on the whole, I have learned to let things be as they are when I cannot change them.  At least it is not in some silly grand pose,> he chuckled, wiping away some extra rain water from his face. 

I blushed, remembering my own thoughts on the pose, and instead pointed to the plaque.  <Did you really say that?>  It said, _While it is true that if we want peace, we must prepare for war, it is also true that if we want war, we will most assuredly get it.  If I must continue to prepare for war, I prefer it to be for peace and that the war may never come, not for a war that will never end._

Father laughed.  <Yes.  Thankfully, they picked that one, not _Animorphs 3:16_.  Though it is rather verbose.  If they had asked me, I would not have picked that to be on the memorial. >

<What would you have put on?> I asked.

<If it had to be something I said often, it might have been, _Don’t get yourselves killed_. >

I tried not to laugh and scolded, <Father, seriously.>

<I am not sure.  Something shorter.  Something someone else said, since I’m not very imaginative.  Love conquers all; never give up, never surrender; love the warrior, hate the war; statements like that.>

<You have to have some idea,> I pressed, disappointed.

Father shook his stalks at me, amused, and waved a hand at the statue.  <I do not even desire a statue in my honor, Zefer.  And you ask for a statement to put on it!  What would _you_ put on a statue of yourself? >

The tail turned, I tried to think.  <Ummm … I don’t know.>  What would I suggestion, making everyone who would read it associate it with me?

<See, it is not as easy as you think,> Father said, tapping my tail.  <Though your mother also agrees that I should have something thought out, but she only does it to tease me.>

<Does Mother have a suggestion?>

<When does she not?  She thought perhaps, _I got lucky_. >

This time I did laugh. 

<Yes, it is very amusing.  And true.>  He looked back at the statue.  <It is strange, to remember that time, with the distance time brings.  In the middle of a war, there is precious little time to think, to plan.  There is always the risk of death, of yourself and your fellow warriors.   Always the battles, the search for anything information that could help.  Time crawls and flies.  It is surreal.>

There was a long moment of quiet, and I looked down at the ground, unable to look at Father just then, with his quiet, contemplative voice.  The rain sprinkled around us.

<All we had was hope.  Hope for the Fleet, for each other, for ourselves.  Hope is one of the worst things in the universe, Zefer.  It can crush a being, destroy them, with the constant disappointments.  You can’t survive on it. 

<And yet … I would never allow myself to live without it.  It is one of the strongest forces in the universe.  Hope can see you to the end, whatever it is.  You have to be strong enough to survive hope, but hope will help you survive.  And live.>

I looked at Father, still standing in study at his double.  But then he smiled when he looked at me.  <Come now, we have to return to the ceremony.  We _are_ the guests of honor. >

It took me a moment, but then I said cheekily back, <Well, _you_ are. >

<If I must suffer, so must everyone else, especially my son.>  He started back towards the shelter, and after a last look at the statue, I followed at a run, getting a snack and wishing I hadn’t. 

Earth grass, I decided, was an acquired taste.  Poor Father and Uncle Aximili being forced to survive on _this_.  No wonder they hoped to win, if only to get better food.  Why did Andalites even want to visit this planet?  The nature might be pretty, perhaps exotic, but there was nothing good to eat.  Later, when we got to Tobias and Megan’s home, when we were feeding, I’d let Father know I felt sorry he had to go through this trial for so long, with nothing tasty to eat. 

Slipping back into the ceremony, I realized I had to make sure none of the humans overheard me, especially since I was a guest.  It wasn’t their fault there was nothing a sane Andalite wanted to eat on their planet.  Despite how many times Tobias asked Uncle Aximili, I knew there was no way he’d eat one of those Cinnabun things.  Uncle Aximili was only joking when he threatened to harm Tobias for the human treat, especially since all the humans and Mother were laughing.

Who’d want to eat one of those sticky things anyway?  I never would, I knew it, and I laughed with everyone else as Uncle Aximili made his teasing threats. 

“Don’t worry,” Tobias said, taking a huge bite of the food, “I have a huge box at home.  Andalite-sized.”

‹You had better.›

At least, while everyone laughed, I hoped he was only teasing.  There was a strange sort of look in his eyes.

No, I was being silly.  Uncle Aximili was joking.  Andalites do not eat Cinnabuns.

At least I hoped not, because from the way Megan was shifting awkwardly.  I very much didn’t want her in trouble, almost as much as I wanted to not be proven wrong.  The Universe was not allowed to change such a truth, that Andalites did not eat Cinnabuns.  I knew we didn’t! If we could, they’d have been transported to my world!  How could that go up a hoof properly?  It was impossible.

Yet, as I thought it, I remembered Father saying nothing was impossible, the only constant in the Universe was change, which is why we Andalites had to invent the morphing technology.

 _‹How else, Zefer, does the impossible became possible, if we cannot change ourselves?  And sometimes the greatest change makes the most impossible, possible.›_   And then he taught me how to do a very difficult homework problem, one I had proclaimed impossible.

Was it possible to ingest a Cinnabun through a hoof?  If it was, Uncle Aximili must have been _very_ desperate for something other than yucky Earth grasses to eat to make that possible.

…. Maybe … someday … I would try a Cinnabun, too.  If it _was_ possible.  I’ll ask Father later.

****

Fin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing Zefer, all full of pride and sooo many misconceptions, and I loved writing Noorlin, because I just imagine him as this ridiculously good-natured Andalite. Still looks down on humans, but is much more willing to get involved and be all curious. (Ax and Elfangor had to get it from somewhere.) The third actually is missing a lot of little scenes I would have loved to write but I felt it was long enough. There was going to be a longer bit dealing with Loren not being as "smart" as the other Andalites and a live-in tutor, some jokes about there being a fad on Earth about Elfangor Facts (similar to Chuck Norris Facts, which Marco would have started and Andalites are all like, whoa, well, he is the great Elfangor, or humans really believe this? and Elfangor just doesn't know about it until he does and just does his narrowed stalk eye thing and twitch his tail at Marco and makes him hide behind Jake but basically just accepts it because what can he even do about it.) Also, since it was restricted to not-Elfangor's POV (since his story was done), it did leave off on explaining his punishments and difficulties, which I wanted to hint more at. For instance, there was a *reason* Elfangor had to go to the Port when he took Zefer. (It was basically going to be along the lines of "And you have another child," to the response of, "it's not illegal." It really was dealing with Quwent, though not in a pleasant way.) As to Zefer ever learning the truth, well, who knows?


	39. Bonus: Veyoup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little Special Extra, a little Elfangor childhood piece that explains Veyoup.

It would rain soon. At the moment, the sky was cloudy, but in a few patches the suns shown. None of this was especially important to the creatures around. Hoobers crawled and tangled in the flowers and trees, and two adult Andalites were bent over a work console, reengineering designs for more efficiency, if it was possible. Their attention was torn between their work and the small Andalite that was weaving under them and through their legs, not so much desperate for attention as that at age when it was enough to merely wish to be by his parents.

He wasn't old by any stretch of imagination. His size alone would attest to that, able to walk under their bodies with hardly any stooping or bending of eyestalks, and he was more fluff than fine fur, more eyes and ears than face, and more legs than anything else. He didn't speak cohesively, projected nothing but basic emotions and desires, and tripped far more often than either his parents had heard a young one doing. Even still, he was the pride of his parents' hearts.

He continued weaving under them, sometimes stretching his stalks so they rubbed their bellies, dragging his hands and petting their fur as if to make sure they were solid, and tangling his tail around their ankles and sides.

‹Little One, please be still,› Mother chastised gently, one eye monitoring his movements. ‹We are working.›

‹Leave him be,› Father scolded playfully. He was still amused by his young son and had not nearly reached the limits of his rather generous tolerance.

He did still, advancing to their workstation, stretching his arms so his hands could grip the edge, extending his stalks so his eyes could barely see what they were working on. He watched as they handled the small instruments and buttons.

Annoyed that he could not see as well as he wished, he approached closer and carefully set his front hooves on the bar. Upper torso leaning back and balancing with his tail, he shakily used his reserves of leg strength and pushed himself wobbly up, gaining perhaps six inches, his weak arms keeping him steady.

He watched a little longer, then grabbed a tool, lost his balance, and would have tumbled if his father's tail hadn't arched to his leaning side. His hand quickly regained its purchase, and his tail shifted, and for a moment, he just stood and made sure he was steady. Once that was sure, he proudly handed over the small tool, ignorant of the fact that had his father's tail moved from his side, he would have fallen quite hard.

Father smiled and took the object. ‹My thanks. Go play, Little One. Shoo.› With his tail, he gently scooped the small Andalite up and set him on his four hooves before batting his away.

He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure if he wanted to leave the side of his parents, but he was a generally brave little one, and he bounced away, stumbling only a little. He dashed about in the grass and, in an effort to imitate his parents, attempted to rear back. He lost his balance quickly and fell straight to his side. He rolled to his stomach quickly, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed his fall. When he was sure, he leaped up and pranced away, the disastrous fall fading into memory.

It started to drizzle and he ran in the rain. Upon finding a puddle of water, created mostly by his mother's watering device, he jumped happily to make a large splash of water and mud, both that coated his legs and underbelly. He jumped in it several times before movement caught his eyes, and he stalked over the flowers, slowly, carefully.

Then he leaped into the bed, an act that would displease Mother when she saw what he had done. From his entrance, the nest of hoobers sprang out, hopping every which way, and he quickly found his hooves and ran after one, and then another when it sprang into his path.

There was no logic to his chase, more a diverting of attention. He slid often on the wet grass, getting wetter, muddier, and slippery in the growing waterfall.

He had been chasing one especially springy hoober around the lodge, when he slipped on the graded incline downwards and tumbled with a roll, hitting hard the main supports. He lay stunned for a few moments, breathing deeply to combat the various pains that sprang from his body. Once he seemed recovered, he carefully stood. Under the mud he could see blood and his bravado trembled, and he made to dash to his parents. He did not get far, because with a yank he found himself on his stomach. Looking backwards, he saw his tail wedged firmly into the support. He pulled and pulled again, then moved back and kicked the beam with his hind legs. Again and again and again and he tried to break free, but nothing helped. His tail was firmly embedded.

The rain fell harder and it got muddier, sucking at his hooves, and the Andalite grew scared. His tail wouldn't get free! He was stuck! Neither of his parents were within sight, and he was hurt all over. Panicking, he pushed and kicked and batted the support, and slowly it tilted until one good yank caused it to fall to the ground with a rather painful twist of his tail. Along with the beam, the roof tilted down greatly, dropping a waterfall onto the little Andalite's head.

With terror and pain and desperation, he got to his hooves, slipping, and tried to rush around. The beam was heavy and he was getting nowhere, for it straightened and was hard to drag through the grass, and his tail did not like being turned such a way.

Where were his parents? He wanted them _right now_! He didn't like being alone.

He tugged his tail again and kept walking. However, he didn't have to get very far, because he heard familiar hoofbeats and brightened considerably when Mother and Father appeared, both drawn by the flash of emotion.

They stared, blinked in surprised at the mess their Little One had made.

‹Oh, you are _Veyoup_ , aren't you, Little One?› Father sighed, both exasperated and amused. ‹You will be lucky if you don't share his fate.›

‹Hush! How can you find this funny? Come, help me with the roof, before this rain gets even harder.›

And, to the little Andalite's shock, they _ignored_ him and started to repair the roof. He whined, because now the rain was getting very heavy and he did not want to get wet anymore, the drops were hitting him too hard and stinging his eyes.

In what really wasn't that long but seemed like eternity to a little Andalite, his parents returned their attention to him, amusement mixed with empathy.

‹Our poor Little One,› Mother soothed, stepping over him to shield him from the worst of the rain. ‹Look at your stalks. Oh, and your knees and elbows. You are hurt everywhere, aren't you?›

‹And he's stuck quite well!› Father added, chuckling. ‹I would almost say he tries, but no Andalite can be purposefully uncoordinated and unlucky. I'm going to have to cut him out.›

‹Do be careful.›

With her own tail, Mother held her son's tail steady with a firm pressure, and it was necessary. When the youngest saw that his father's blade was heading straight for his, he screamed in panic and wrestled, pushing against his mother and ignoring all their calming words and presence. He slipped and twisted under her, and then he was free and he twisted away.

He had been surprised and analyzed his newly-freed tail, and then understood what his parents had done, and he went back to them, tangling under them lovingly again.

His father laughed, while the mother sighed at the mud being spread about her person. ‹What shall we do with you, Elfangor? You are the clumsiest Andalite I have ever heard of.›

‹What of _Veyoup_?› Father teased, brushing his son's head.

‹He will never be allowed anywhere, because others will chase him away! We might as well change his name, for he most certainly have _Veyoup's_ spirit.› Mother sighed. ‹How is he to be well, if he cannot even run properly?›

Father smiled. ‹He is young. Trust me, he shall be great. In time.›

Mother looked down at her son, her muddy, sopping wet, bruised little Elfangor, their little _Veyoup_. ‹In _much_ time.›

Her husband had to agree.

Elfangor, with the understanding of a child, didn't understand. It was enough that his parents were by him, and that his tail was free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!
> 
> The entire work (except the epilogues) are from Elfangor's point of view, because this is his story. It ends at the end, and the epilogues aren't his story anymore. Really, they were for my benefit, to end this monster. 
> 
> And I wrote this because I'm a romantic and wanted Elfangor and Loren to have a happy story. (Yeah, that happened.) The very first thing I wrote for this story was them meeting in the store, and hence why this story was saved as "For three months I followed her" for a very, very long time. Since this was written from Elfangor's POV, we never really know how Loren's coping/thinking, but she suffered about as much, perhaps more, because she'd admit she loved him. Elfangor buried his under duty and responsibility and denial, though to be fair, he had the weight of their history to deal with. Loren only knew Alan Fangor for a few months, who was remarkably like Elfangor once she got over the whole He's-An-Alien thing. Elfangor had to deal with Amnesia-Loren compared to Wife-Who-Knew-Everything-Loren, as well as a couple decades of romanticizing their relationship.
> 
> As one bonus, though, I got to write the chance for Ax to know Elfangor, for them to get a chance to be brothers. Throughout the series Ax only knows and speaks about Elfangor in idealized, story-hero way, and he deserved to know his brother, even and especially the flaws.
> 
> The reason it's never directly addressed that Tobias is Elfangor's son in a strange little head-canon that sprung up in the writing. It turned into "the secret everyone knew but Elfangor thought they didn't," and even now I'm not really sure how he would have reacted if everyone just said, We Know. I just imagined him floundering in shame, personal and cultural, and being unable to actually *do* anything like what he does when it hasn't been said, even though no one would really be upset or judge him. (I mean, hello, Ellimists! Fighting Yeerks and saving the galaxy.) I just have in my mind this cultural taboo he really *couldn't* have worked around if he had honestly admitted it, something deeper than "I abandoned my family," whatever that might be. And I guess that's why there's never any big reveal. Anyway, some things don't have to be admitted for them to be true, and the father-son relationship was better left understated.
> 
> With Elfangor present, it also influences how the Animorphs battle, and what battles they face. To me, Elfangor would end up taking their burdens, but as the way I imagine Andalite culture, or at least how Ax and he were raised: the herd before the individual, young before the old. A strong warrior background with a strong emphasis on honor, duty, and – and here I quote Dumbledore – doing what's right, not what's easy. So it made it easy to write Elfangor -- a great war hero who had already made a life full of difficult decisions meant to protect those he cares about – as someone who could make the choices and make it through them with some sanity intact. He's also older, and, not to say it negates anything about what the Animorphs did or went through, he's had 20 years of experience with this war, so there is the slight inuring to everything: he can make the call because he's made it before. He's not against sacrifice, but he'd prefer it be useful and not children making it.
> 
> So, fortunately or unfortunately, Elfangor did turn into a shield for the Animorphs, and now I can wonder if it was too much. However, I can't see him *not* being a shield for them, and short of creating new adventures for everything (and I'm really not that creative), I don't know how I could have made them grow as much as they did in the series. Yes, the war and everything did affect them, but it wasn't the trial by fire for any of them. Jake was a leader, in a way, but he never actually made most of the very difficult decisions. Cassie didn't make the choice with the Escafil device, but to be fair, I always took that as more luck than anything things worked out the way they did. She would try to do the right thing, but I don't think she ever looked at the full consequences of her actions if things had gone the wrong way (for instance, Karen, however young, knew the truth, and it was a huge risk when she had already been taken as a host once). Don't get me wrong, I love Cassie as a character, and I think the way I wrote her made it seem like I didn't, but it's very easy to point out problems with her choices. Tobias clearly made out the best, because yeah, his life was infinitely better when he end up a nothlit, but with Elfangor around, I couldn't see him putting them in any sort of situation where it would be a risk at the beginning. Ax did well too, at least getting to know his brother.
> 
> That said, the Animorphs still went through a war they were ill-prepared to face. They had challenges, and because this is Elfangor's POV, we don't see them

**Author's Note:**

> Four years of my life working on this. It generally follows the books, because I run out of originality.


End file.
